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THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNCLE, Eſq CONTAINING Various OBSERVATIONS and REFLECTIONS, Made in ſeveral Parts of the WORLD; AND Many extraordinary RELATIONS.

Foelix ille animi, Diviſque ſimillimus ipſis,
Quem non mendaci reſplendens gloria fuco
Sollicitat, non faſtoſi mala gaudia luxus.
Sed tacitos ſinit ire dies, et paupere cultu
Exigit innocuae tranquilla ſilentia vitae.
VOLUSENUS.

LONDON: Printed for J. NOON, at the White Hart in Cheapſide, near the Poultry.

MDCCLVI.

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TO THE CRITICKS, THIS JOURNAL Is moſt humbly DEDICATED, BY Their moſt humble Servant,

The AUTHOR.

A PREFACE By WAY of DEDICATION.

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GENTLEMEN,

THIS book is not addreſſed to you, in order to aſk your protection for its faults; or in hopes, that ſuch valuable names at the head of it, may preſerve it. Things in print muſt ſtand by their own worth. But it is offered to you, to let the world ſee I had that confidence in the goodneſs of my deſign in writing it, as to ſubmit it to ſuch great and impartial judges; and that I believe you will report your opinion in ſuch a manner, as to procure me the eſteem of the virtuous; when you find that my principal intention in this piece, is to ſerve the intereſts of truth, liberty, and religion, and to advance uſeful learning, to the beſt of my abilities: — that I have the happineſs of mankind at heart, and attempt, in a hiſtorical manner, to encreaſe their knowledge in general; and in particular, to lead them to a pious contemplation and acknowledgment of God's unſpeakable wiſdom and goodneſs manifeſted in the works of the creation; — ſhew them the truth of the teſtimony [v]of Jeſus Chriſt concerning a divine providence, immortality, and a future ſtate; and that as virtue advances and improves, human felicity augments, and becomes a ſure prognoſtick of that fulneſs of bliſs, which men of goodneſs and integrity are to enjoy, without interruption, frailty, and infirmity, in an unchangeable and everlaſting life. This was my ſcheme. Theſe things I had principally in view, when, to vindicate my character from miſrepreſentation and idle ſtories, and to illuſtrate my memoirs of ſeveral ladies of Great-Britain, I ſat down to write a true hiſtory of my life and notions. You will ſee at once, gentlemen, that this is the labored part of my work. Were I able to write ſo as to perſuade even a few to alter their way of living, and employ their time for the future, in forming and training up their moral powers to perfection, I ſhould think myſelf more fortunate and glorious than the greateſt genius in the temple of Fame. Indeed, gentlemen, fame or name, in this world, is not the thing I think of. Non eſt mortale quod opto, I can ſay with Lactantius: and were it within my power to chooſe, ſure I am, that I would be for ever unknown. But that was impoſſible. In juſtice to myſelf, as before obſerved, and that tradition might not hand me down, when I [vi]am gone, in that variety of bad and fooliſh characters, which a malice, that knows nothing of me, whiſpers while I am living; it was neceſſary I ſhould tell my own ſtory. The relation was likewiſe requiſite, to render the memoirs before mentioned intelligible. The volumes of that work, which are to be publiſhed, would be quite dark, and not ſo grateful as intended, without a previous account of the author's life.

This, gentlemen, is the truth of the caſe, and as I ſay as little of myſelf, in my relation, as I can; and as much for true religion and uſeful learning, as I was able, I hope, from your rectitude and judgment, that you will get me a fair hearing; and I call upon you as my patrons, and the friends to learning and truth, for your approbation of my good and pious intentions, tho' you ſhould not be able to ſay one word of any excellencies in my writings. This is all I aſk. As I wiſh well to your cauſe, the cauſe of virtue and letters, and have chiefly endeavoured, according to my abilities, to make my readers acquainted with the majeſty of the Deity, and his kingdom, and the greatneſs of his excellency, before whom all the inhabitants of the earth, all powers and principalities, are as nothing; I hope you will, in return, favour me with your beſt wiſhes.

As to ſome ſtrange things you will find in the following journal; and a life, in various [vii]particulars, quite contrary to the common courſe of action, I can aſſure you, gentlemen, in reſpect of the ſtrange things, that however wonderful they may appear to you, yet they are; excluſive of a few decorations and figures, (neceſſary in all works), ſtrictly true: and as to the difference of my life, from that of the generality of men, let it only be conſidered, that I was born in London, and carried an infant to Ireland, where I learned the Iriſh language, and became intimately acquainted with its original inhabitants: — that I was not only a lover of books from the time I could ſpell them to this hour; but read with an extraordinary pleaſure, before I was twenty, the works of ſeveral of the fathers, and all the old romances; which tinged my ideas with a certain piety and extravagance, that rendered my virtues as well as my imperfections particularly mine: — that by hard meaſure, I was compelled to be an adventurer, when very young, and had not a friend in the univerſe but what I could make by good fortune, and my own addreſs: — that my wandering life, wrong conduct, and the iniquity of my kind, with a paſſion for extraordinary things and places, brought me into ſeveral great diſtreſſes; and that I had quicker and more wonderful deliverances from them than people in tribulation generally receive: — that the dull, the formal, and the viſionary, the hard-honeſt man, and [viii]the poor-liver, are a people I have had no connexion with; but have always kept company with the polite, the generous, the lively, the rational, and the brighteſt freethinkers of this age: — that beſide all this, I was in the days of my youth, one of the moſt active men in the world, at every exerciſe; and to a degree of raſhneſs, often venturous, when there was no neceſſity for running any hazards: in diebus illis, I have deſcended head-foremoſt from a high cliff into the ocean, to ſwim, when I could, and ought, to have gone off a rock not a yard from the ſurface of the deep. — I have ſwam near a mile and a half out in the ſea, to a ſhip that lay off, went on board, got clothes from the mate of the veſſel, and proceeded with them to the next port; while my companion I left on the beach concluded me drowned, and related my ſad fate in the town.—I have taken a cool thruſt over a bottle, without the leaſt animoſity on either ſide; but both of us depending on our ſkill in the ſmall ſword, for preſervation from miſchief. — Such things as theſe I now call wrong, and mention them only as ſamples of a raſhneſs I was once ſubject to, as an opportunity happened to come in the way. Let all theſe things be taken into the account, and I imagine, gentlemen, that what may at firſt ſight ſeem ſtrange, and next to incredible, will, on conſidering theſe particulars, not [ix]long remain ſo, in your opinion; though you may think the relator an odd man. As to that, I have nothing to ſay. And if oddneſs conſiſts in ſpirit, freedom of thought, and a zeal for the divine unity; in a taſte for what is natural, antique, romantic, and wild; in honouring women, who are admirable for goodneſs, letters, and arts; and in thinking, after all the ſcenes I have gone through, that every thing here is vanity; except that virtue and charity, which gives us a right to expect beyond the grave; and procures us, in this world, the direction of infinite wiſdom, the protection of infinite power, and the friendſhip of infinite goodneſs; — then, may it be written on my ſtone,—Here lies an odd man.

Thus much, gentlemen, I thought proper to ſay to you, that by being acquainted with the particulars relative to the complexion, and deſign of the author, you might the eaſier and the better comprehend the various things you will find in the work he dedicates to you.

I have only to add, that I wiſh you all happineſs; that your heads may lack no ointment, and your garments be always white and odoriferous: but eſpecially, may you preſs on, like true critics, towards perfection; and may bliſs, glory, and honour, be your reward and your Portion.

CONTENTS.

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N. B. What refers to the Notes is diſtinguiſhed thus ( ).

  • 1 INtroduction — Page 1
  • 2 A reflection on the author's ſituation and temper Page 2
  • 3 A college life — and courſe of reading Page 3
  • 4 The advantages derived from natural and moral phiphiloſophy — Page 6
  • 5 The ſuperior excellence of revelations Page 11
  • 6 A reflexion on true and falſe religion — Page 14
  • 7 A method of reading hiſtory — Page 16
  • 8 A reflexion on hiſtory — Page 18
  • 9 A reflexion on government and religion Page 22
  • 10 (1. Nothing to be received as points of faith, but what is recorded in the ſacred records) Page 28
  • 11 The hiſtory of Miſs Noel — Page 28
  • 12 A converſation in relation to the primevity of Hebrew tongue — Page 36
  • 13 (2. Time of the Jewiſh captivity) — Page 38
  • 14 (3. Account of Shinaar) — Page 39
  • 15 (4. Of the longevity of the Antediluvians) Page 41
  • 16 A deſcription of Miſs Noel's grotto — Page 43
  • 17 (5. Of Mrs. OHara's and Mrs. Crafton's grottos)
  • 18 An image of Epictetus in this grotto, and the philoſophers account of the maſter ſcience Page 54
  • 19 Old Mr. Noel's character — Page 56
  • 20 A converſation relating to the miracle at Babel Page 60
  • 21 (6. Of the words, barbarous, balderdaſh, and the Welch baldwridd) — Page 63
  • 22 Miſs Noel's notion of Hutchinſon's cherubim — the Deity — and the preſervation of the Hebrew tongue — Page 67
  • 23 (7. An account of Samuel Bochart, and his writings) Page 69
  • 24 A ſong, in imitation of the 19th ode of the firſt book of Horace — Page 71
  • 25 (8. Mr. Francis's tranſlation of this ode) — Page 73
  • 26 A ſong, called the Solitude — Page 75
  • 27 The death and character of Miſs Noel — Page 78
  • 28 A reflexion on the death of Miſs Noel — Page 79
  • 29 The author leaves the univerſity, and goes to ſee his father in the country, but has a miſerable reception by means of a ſtep-mother, and on account of a religious difference — Page 82
  • 30 The author leaves his father's houſe, and returns to Dublin, in order to go to England — Page 86
  • 31 (9. A ſummary of the author's notion of God and Chriſt) — Page 86
  • 32 (10. An account of a little public houſe, called the Conniving-houſe, on the ſide of the bay of Dublin; where the author reſted three days before he ſailed for England) — Page 87
  • 33 The author departs from Ring's-End, and is in a tempeſt at ſea — Page 88
  • 34 Four remarkable things, while the ſtorm laſted Page 89
  • 35 The paſſengers land at Whitehaven, and divide — The ſtory of Whitwell, the mate of the ſhip Page 92
  • 36 An extraordinary ſcene — Page 95
  • 37 Miſs Melmoth's character — Page 97
  • 38 The author parts with Miſs Melmoth at the Bell, on Stanemore, and promiſes to ſee her again as ſoon as poſſible — Page 98
  • 39 A journey over that part of Stanemore Mountains which belong to Weſtmorland — Page 99
  • 40 The author arrives by chance at the houſe of his friend and ſchool-fellow, Jack Price Page 102
  • 41 The ſtory of Jack Price — Page 104
  • 42 A converſation between Jack Price and the author Page 112
  • 43 An account of Mrs. Price of Stanemore, and a converſation the author had with her, concerning the nature of the chriſtian religion Page 119
  • 44 (11, 12, 13. A paſſage in the prophet Jeremiah explained) — Page 145
  • 45 The author leaves his friend Price, and proceeds up Weſtmorland-Stanemore — Page 163
  • 46 A reflexion on the margin of a fine lake among the fells of Weſtmorland — Page 166
  • 47 An extraordinary effuſion of water from the inſide of a mountain — Page 168
  • 48 The cauſe of this eruption of water, and its ſudden increaſe — Page 169
  • 49 The origin of earthquakes— Of the abyſs, etc. Page 170
  • 50 A reflexion on ſecond cauſes; — and the reaſon of tides — Page 173
  • 51 An account of muſcular motion — Page 180
  • 52 (14. Of ſpontaneous motion) — Page 186
  • 53 (15. Of the organization of dead matter) Page 188
  • 54 An extraordinary loch on the top of a high mountain — Page 191
  • 55 Remarks on the deluge — Page 192
  • 55 (16. An account of Eldine-hole in Derbyſhire) Page 195
  • 56 Account of an aſſemblage of columnar marble near a river among the fells of Weſtmorland Page 198
  • 57 Account of a burning ſpring — Page 202
  • 58 Account of a ſwallow, and another unfathomable loch — Page 205
  • 59 An amazing arch through a mountain — Page 206
  • 60 A reflexion on the completion of every wiſh the moment it is formed — Page 209
  • 61 (17. A paſſage relative to wiſhing in the ſecond volume of familiar letters) — Page 211
  • 62 A deſcription of a natural grotto in one of the mountains of Weſtmorland-Stanemore — Page 214
  • 63 The hiſtory of Azora Burcot — her notions, and account of chriſtianity — Page 215
  • 64 (19. Sacrifice of the Maſſilienſes) — Page 234
  • 65 The gardens of Burcot-Lodge — Page 244
  • 66 Account of a pike-pond — Page 246
  • 67 An account of the public worſhip at Burcot-Lodge Page 247
  • 68 A further account of Azora — and the hiſtory of Mr. Burcot, her father — Page 261
  • 69 (20. A way to make gold.) — Page 262
  • 70 An account of ten extraordinary country girls Page 270
  • 71 An obſervation on the underſtanding of women Page 273
  • 72 (21. An account of Mrs. Antonia Fletcher, and her colony:—the death of Mrs. Burcot.—Of Stanemore and its villages) — Page 277
  • 73 The author's departure from Burcot-Hamlet — and arrival at a burning fountain — Page 278
  • 74 An acount of an extraordinary water-fall among the fells of Weſtmorland — Page 286
  • 75 An acount of great deliverances — Page 287
  • 76 (22. An account of ſome Iriſh kings and knights) Page 288
  • 77 (23. An account of Cormac Maccuillenan, king of Munſter, and archbiſhop of Caſhel — The pſalter of Tarah, and the pſalter of Caſhel) Page 290
  • 78 The caſe of John Orton — Page 294
  • 79 A reflexion on the bones of John Orton Page 304
  • 80 (24. An explanation of the author's expreſſion — Partaker of the divine nature by impreſſions from it) — Page 308
  • 81 A meditation in a cloſet — Page 311
  • 82 An inventory of the goods the author found at Mr. Orton's Lodge — Page 312
  • 83 The piſmires the beſt preparers of a ſkeleton Page 314
  • 84 The author's ſcheme of a life to be paſſed at Orton-Lodge — Page 315
  • 85 A deſcription of an extraordinary cave in one of the northern fells of Weſtmorland — Page 319
  • 86 (25. A deſcription of the cave near Cape-Bonn; which was the grot that Dido and Aeneas ſheltered themſelves in: — and St. Donat's-Cave in Glamorganſhire) — Page 320
  • 87 A deſcription of a fine ſeat in Yorkſhire-Stanemore Page 324
  • 88 An account of the owners of this ſeat — Page 327
  • 89 A rule to determine the tangents of curve lines Page 333
  • 90 Microſcopical obſervations on plants, inſects, etc. Page 334
  • 91 A reflexion on the works of nature as ſeen in the microſcope — Page 342
  • 92 An account of the library at Ulubrae — Page 343
  • 93 An account of the book called Vindiciae contra Tyrannos, — and who was the author of it Page 344
  • 94 (29. Some remarks on Charles I.—and account of two ſermons preached at his martyrdom) Page 345
  • 95 (30. Accounts of Du Pleſſis Mornay — Cardinal Perron — Paul V. — Cardinal d'Oſſat — Cardinal Baronius — Iſaac Caſaubon — Centuriators of Magdebourg— Cardinal Bellarmine — The edict of Nantz — Theodore Agrippa Aubigne — Page 350
  • 96 Account of the author of a book De libertate eccleſiaſtica — Page 358
  • 97 (32. An account of the writings of the two Scaligers, and of Lewis Cappel — Page 359
  • 98 An account of ſome ſubterraneous chambers in one of the mountains of Yorkſhire-Stanemore Page 362
  • 99 (33. Account of Penpark-hole in Glouceſterſhire) Page 363
  • 100 (34. Oſ Pool's-hole in Derbyſhire) — Page 367
  • 101 The author's dangerous deſcent from the top of the mountain he arrived on, to the valley where Mr. Harcourt-lived — and his kind reception by that gentleman — Page 369
  • 102 The author's diſcourſe with Miſs Harcourt, in relation to his religion — Page 376
  • 103 (35. Of Dr. Joſeph Smith's book, ſect. 3.) Page 378
  • 103 Mr. Harconrt's obſervation on the diſcourſe I had with his daughter, and his generous offer Page 385
  • 104 An account of Harriot Euſebia Harcourt, (the lady mentioned in the firſt volume of my memoirs of ſeveral ladies of Great-Britain, p. 324.) — and her paintings — Page 388
  • 105 (37. What a moral Shechinah is) — Page 393
  • 106 A deſcription of a fine chamber in a mountain, and a deſcent from the chamber to a valley, where the author found his friend Turner's houſe Page 402
  • 107 Characters of Miſs Turner and Miſs Jaquelot Page 415
  • 108 The author departs from Skelſmore-Vale, and on the ſide of a mountain, makes a morning reflexion on the riſing ſun — Page 418
  • 109 (39. The weakneſs of tradition) — Page 421
  • 110 A fine landſcape from the top of a mountain — and the author's arrival at the ſeat of Mr. Berrisfort; a gentleman who came with him from Ireland in the ſhip he had his paſſage in Page 432
  • 111 A paſſage in a Greek author: and ſome reflexions Page 435
  • 112 The kind reception the author had from Mr. Berrisfort — Page 438
  • 113 Manner of living at Mr. Berrisfort's houſe — His character — and the characters of Miſs Berrisfort and Miſs Fox — Page 440
  • 114 The daring ſpirit of Miſs Berrisfort in hunting Page 441
  • 115 An account of two ſad falls in the field in a morning hunt — Page 442
  • 116 A religious converſation between Mr. Berrisfort and the author — Page 444
  • 117 (40. Accounts of Eraſmus, Grotius, Limborch, Baxter, Dodwell, and their writings, and of Dr. Sykes—Courcelles—and Polienbourg Page 453
  • 118 (40. A remark on our little Vaux-halls; — and a word of advice to the rich and gay, who frequent Ranelagh and Vaux-hall) — Page 460
  • 119 (41. Of Simon of the Oratory — Du Pin; and their writings: and of Le Clerc's Sentimens de quelques theologiens) — Page 470
  • 120 (42. Of Mr. Macknight's harmony) Page 479
  • 120 (43. Of Jones's method of ſettling the canonical authority of the books of the New Teſtament— the ſacred claſſics — Dr. Lardner's credibility of the goſpel hiſtory; particularly his admirable ſupplement to the firſt book of the ſecond part; and Mr. Jacob Ilive's letter to the biſhop of London) — Page 485
  • 121 (44. The caſe of prophecy — and of Jerom, Ambroſe, and the firſt St. Gregory) Page 450
  • 122 The author departs from Yeoverin-Green, and arrives at a ſhaking-bog — the nature of this kind of bog — Page 496
  • 123 A continuation of the journey from the ſhakingbog— to Mr. Fleming's houſe — and the hiſtory of Mr. Fleming and his two brothers Page 498
  • 124 The author arrives at laſt at Ulubrae, to the great joy of the gentlemen, his friends; and from thence proceeds the next day to Eggleſton — the day after to other places, to enquire for Miſs Melmoth, but cannot find her — Page 502
  • 125 By chance however he met with her at Gretabridge, and from that place they ſet out for Orton-Lodge, where they were married Page 506

ERRATA.

— Page 5. line 16. after the words my private tutor, add Mr. John Bruce, who was a bright and excellent man: you will find a large account of him in the firſt volume of my memoirs of ſeveral ladies, p. 7.—P. 6. l. 8. after elſe, inſert till. p. 19. l. 4. gluto read glutto. p. 87. note 10. penult. delightful, read charming, and in the laſt line delightful, read happy. P. 88 note 10. l. 6. them, read men, l. 2. extreme, read extremely. p. 156. l. 2. diſpenation, read diſpenſation. p. 160. l. 6. dele and. p. 165. l. 9. after ſubjacent, read clouds. p. 186. note 14. l. 12. ſponteneity, read ſpontaneity. p. 227. laſt line, part, read paſt. p. 229. l. 18. after muſt, inſert have. p. 230. l. 1. h, read a, p. 231. l. 11. after more, inſert to. p. 232. l. 11. after beauty, inſert and. p. 233. l. 1. after principle, put a comma. Ib. l. 14. oblotion, read oblation. p. 234. l. 11. with him, read within us. p. 238. l. 23. thro' read the. p. 239. l. 2. after which, inſert he. p. 239. l. 22. derived, read doubted. Ib. 24. one, read our. p. 241. l. 28. eve, read ever. p. 242. l. 21. trial, read trials. p. 264. in the note 5. innovation, read invention. p. 281. in the note, line laſt, Stanemore, read Boulneſs. p. 287. l. 13. July, read June, p. 290. in the note 1, Cuillenau, read Mac Cuillenan. p. 319. l. 14. after read during. p. 344. l. 19. marionalotry, read marianolatry. p. 344. l. 20. demonalatry, read domonolatry. p. 359. in the note 6. his, read the. p. 401. l. 17. after the word reſurrection, inſert in the firſt volume of my memoirs of ſeveral ladies, p. 324. you will find a further account of Mrs. Harcourt. p. 405. l. 12. after no, inſert other. p. 512. after No. 5. in the advertiſement at the end of the life, (relative to an appendix) add No. 6. Strictures on Mr. Jacob Ilive's letter to the biſhop of London. No. 7. Continuation of Mrs. Harcourt's paintings of the viſions in the revelations of St. John.

THE LIFE OF John Buncle, Eſq

[1]
‘Nec Vixit Male, qui Natus Morienſque fefellit.’

THAT the Tranſactions of my Life, and the obſervations and reflections I have made on men and things, by ſea and land, in various parts of the world, might not be buried in oblivion, and by length of time, be blotted out of the Memory of Men, it has been my wont, from the days of my youth to this time, to write down Memorandums of every thing I thought worth noticing, as men and matters, books and circumſtances, came in my way; and in hopes they may be of ſome ſervice to my fellow-mortals I publiſh them. Some pleaſing, and ſome [2]ſurprizing things the Reader will find in them. He will meet with miſcellany thoughts upon ſeveral ſubjects. He will read, if he pleaſes, ſome tender ſtories. But all the relations, the thoughts, the obſervations, are deſigned for the advancement of valuable Learning, and to promote whatſoever things are true, whatſoever things are honeſt, whatſoever things are juſt, whatſoever things are pure, whatſoever things are lovely, whatſoever things are of good report.

1. A Reflection.

About fifty years ago the Midwife wheeled me in, and much ſooner than half a Century hence, in all human probability, Death will wheel me out. When Heaven pleaſes, I am ſatisfied. Life and death are equally welcome, becauſe equally parts of my way to Eternity. My lot has been a ſwarthy one in this firſt State, and I am in hopes I ſhall exchange worlds to advantage. As God, without all peradventure, brought his moral creatures into being, in order to increaſe their Virtue, and provide ſuitable happineſs for the Worthy, the moſt unfortunate here may expect immutable felicity at laſt, if they have endeavoured, in proportion to what power they had, to render themſelves uſeful and valuable, by a ſincerity and benevolence of temper, a diſintereſtedneſs, [3]a communicativeneſs, and the practice of thoſe duties, to which we are obliged by the frame of our Nature, and by the Relations we bear to God, and to the ſubjects of his government.

For my part, I confeſs that, many have been the failings of my Life, and great the defects of my obedience. But in the midſt of all my failings and imperfections, my Soul hath always ſympathiſed with the afflicted, and my heart hath ever aked for the miſeries of others. My hand has often relieved, when I wanted the ſhilling to comfort my ſelf, and when it hath not been in my power to relieve, I have grieved for the ſcanty Accommodations of others. Many troubleſome and expenſive offices I have undertaken to do good to Men, and ever ſocial and free have I been in my demeanour, eaſy and ſmooth in my addreſs; and therefore, I truſt that, whenever I am removed from this horizon, it will be from a dark and cloudy ſtate, to that of joy, light, and full Revelation. This felicitates my every day, let what will happen from without. This ſupports me under every Affliction, and enables me to mentain a habit of ſatisfaction and joy in the general courſe of my Life.

2. Went to the Univerſity in 1720

The things of my Childhood are not worth ſetting down, and therefore I commence my Life from the firſt month of the [4]ſeventeenth year of my Age, when I was ſent to the Univerſity, and entred a penſioner, tho' I had a larger yearly allowance than any fellow-commoner of my College. I was reſolved to read there, and determined to improve my natural faculties to the utmoſt of my power. Nature, I was ſenſible, had beſtowed no genius on me. This and underſtanding are only the privilege of extraordinary perſons; who receive from Heaven the happy conjunction of qualities, that they may execute great and noble deſigns, and acquire the higheſt pitch of excellence in the profeſſion they turn to; if they will take the pains to perfect the united qualities by art, and carefully avoid running into caprice and paradox; the Rocks on which many a Genius has ſplit. But then I had a tolerable ſhare of natural underſtanding, and from my infancy was teachable, and always attentive to the directions of good ſenſe. This I knew might riſe with ſome labour, to a half merit, tho' it could never gain immortality upon any account: and this was enough for me. I wanted only to acquire ſuch degrees of perfections as lay within the ſmall ſphere nature had chalked out for me.

3. A College-Life.

To this purpoſe I devoted my college-life to books, and for five years that I reſided in the Univerſity, converſed ſo much with the dead that I had very little intercourſe with the living. So totally had letters [5]engaged my mind, that I was but little affected towards moſt other things. Walking and Muſick were my favorite recreations, and almoſt the only ones I delighted in. I had hardly a thought at that time of the fooliſh choiſes and purſuits of men; thoſe fatal choices and purſuits, which are owing to falſe judgments, and to a habit of acting precipitantly, without examining the fancies and appetites; and therefore, very rarely went into the pleaſures and diverſions which men of fortune in a Univerſity too commonly indulge in. My relaxation, after ſtudy, was my german-flute, and the converſation of ſome ingenious, ſober friend; generally, my private tutor, who was a bright and excellent man; and if the weather permitted, I walked out into the country ſeveral miles. At this exerciſe, I had often one or other with me; but for the moſt part, was obliged to go alone. My dog and my gun however were diverſion enough on the way, and they frequently led me into ſcenes of entertainment, which laſted longer than the day. Some of them you will find in this Journal. The hiſtory of the beautiful Harriot Noel you ſhall have by and by.

4. A Courſe of Reading in a College.

At preſent, my ſcheme requires me to ſet down the method I purſued in my Readings, and let my Reader know the iſſue of my ſtudies. — My time I devoted to Philoſophy, [6]Coſmography, Mathematicks, and the Languages, for four years, and the fifth I gave to Hiſtory.

Of Mr. Locke's Eſſay. The firſt book I took into my hand, after receiving my note of admiſſion, was the eſſay of that fine Genius, Mr. Locke, and I was ſo pleaſed with this clear and accurate writer, that I looked into nothing elſe, by reading it three times over, I had made a thorough acquaintance with my own underſtanding. He taught me to examine my abilities, and enabled me to ſee what objects my mind was fitted to deal with. He led me into the ſanctuary of vanity and ignorance, and ſhewed me how greatly true knowledge depended on a right meaning of words, and a juſt ſignificancy of expreſſion. In ſum, from the Eſſay my Underſtanding received very great benefits, and to it I owe what improvement I have made in the reaſon given me. If I could, I would perſuade all young Gentlemen to read it over and over with great attention, and I am ſure they would find themſelves very richly rewarded for their pains in reading it. They would acquire that juſtneſs and truth of underſtanding, which is the great perfection of rational Beings.

5. Natural Philoſophy.

When I had done, for a time, with this admirable Eſſay, I then began to ſtudy the firſt principles of things, the ſtructure of [7]the Univerſe, the contexture of human bodies, the properties of beaſts, the virtues of plants, and the qualities of metals, and was quite charmed with the contemplation of the beautiful order, and wiſe final cauſes of nature in all her laws and productions. The ſtudy had a delightful influence on the temper of my mind, and inſpired into it a love of order in my heart, and in my outward manners. It likewiſe led me to the great firſt Cauſe, and in repeated views of harmony, wiſdom and goodneſs in all the works of nature, rivited upon my mind a fixed conviction, that all is under the adminiſtration of a general Mind, as far remote from all malice as from all weakneſs, whether in reſpect of underſtanding or of power. This gave me a due affection towards the infinitely perfect Parent of Nature, and as I contemplated his glorious Works, I was obliged in tranſports to confeſs, that he deſerved our love and admiration. This did alſo ſatisfy me, that whatever the order of the world produces, is in the main both juſt and good, and of conſequence, that we ought in the beſt manner to ſupport whatever hardſhips are to be endured for virtue's ſake: that acquieſcence and complacency with reſpect to ill accidents, ill men and injuries, ought to be our part under a perfect adminiſtration; and with benignity and [8]conſtancy we muſt ever act, if there be a ſettled perſuaſion, that all things are framed and governed by a univerſal mind. — Such was the effect the ſtudy of Natural Philoſophy had upon my Soul. It ſet beyond all doubt before me the moral perfection of the Creator and Governor of the Univerſe. And if this Almighty God, I ſaid, is perfect Wiſdom and Virtue, does it not follow, that he muſt approve and love thoſe who are at due pains to improve in wiſdom; — and what he loves and delights in, muſt he not make happy? This is an evident truth. It renders the cauſe of virtue quite triumphant.

6. Moral Philoſophy.

But upon Ethicks or Moral Philoſophy I dwelt the longeſt. This is the proper food of the Soul, and what perfects her in all the virtues and qualifications of a gentleman. This Science I collected in the firſt place from the antient ſages and philoſophers, and ſtudied all the moral writers of Greece and Rome. With great pleaſure I ſaw, that theſe immortal authors had delineated as far as human reaſon can go, that courſe of life which is moſt according to the intention of nature, and moſt happy; had ſhewn that this univerſe, and human nature in particular, was formed by the wiſdom and counſel of a Deity, and that from the conſtitution of our nature various duties aroſe: — that ſince God is the original independent Being, [9]compleat in all poſſible perfection, of boundleſs power, wiſdom and goodneſs; the Creator, Contriver, and Governor of this world, to whom mankind are indebted for innumerable benefits moſt gratuitouſly beſtowed; we ought to manifeſt the moſt ardent love and veneration toward the Deity, and worſhip him with affections of Soul ſuited to the pre-eminence and infinite grandeur of the original Cauſe of all; ought to obey him, as far as human weakneſs can go, and humbly ſubmit and reſign ourſelves and all our intereſts to his will; continually confide in his goodneſs, and conſtantly imitate him as far as our weak nature is capable. This is due to that original moſt gracious Power who formed us, and with a liberal hand ſupplies us with all things conducive to ſuch pleaſure and happineſs as our nature can receive: — That in reſpect of mankind, our natural ſenſe of right and wrong points out to us the duties to be performed towards others, and the kind affections implanted by nature, excites us to the diſcharge of them: that by the law of our conſtitution and nature, juſtice and benevolence are preſcribed; and aids and an intercourſe of mutual offices required, not only to ſecure our pleaſure and happineſs, but to preſerve ourſelves in ſafety and in life: that the law of nature, or natural right, forbids every inſtance of injuſtice, [10]a violation of life, liberty, health, property; and the exerciſe of our honourable, kind powers, are not only a ſpring of vigorous efforts to do good to others, and thereby ſecure the common happineſs; but they really procure us a joy and peace, an inward applauſe and external advantages; while injuſtice and malice, anger, hatred, envy, and revenge, are often matter of ſhame and remorſe, and contain nothing joyful, nothing glorious: In the greateſt affluence, the ſavage men are miſerable: — that as to ourſelves, the voice of reaſon declares, that we ought to employ our abilities and opportunities in improving our minds to an extenſive knowledge of nature in the ſciences; and by diligent meditation and obſervation, acquire that prudence, juſtice, temperance, and fortitude, which ſhould conſtantly govern our lives: — That ſolid prudence, which abhors raſhneſs, inconſiderateneſs, a fooliſh ſelf-confidence, and craft, and under a high ſenſe of moral excellence, conſiders and does what is really advantageous in life: — That juſtice, which conſtantly regards the common intereſt, and in ſubſerviency to it, gives to each one whatever is due to him upon any natural claim: — That temperance, which reſtrains and regulates the lower appetites, and diſplays the grace and beauty of manners: — And that fortitude, which [11]repreſſes all vain and exceſſive fears, gives us a ſuperiority to all the external accidents of our mortal ſtate, and ſtrengthens the ſoul againſt all toils or dangers we may be expoſed to in diſcharge of our duty; as an early and painful death with virtue and honour, is highly preferable to the longeſt ignominious life, and no advantages can be compared in point of happineſs with the approbation of God, and of our own hearts.

That if in this manner we live prepared for any honourable ſervices to God, our fellows, and ourſelves, and practice piety toward God, good-will toward men, and immediately aim at our own perfection, then we may expect, notwithſtanding our being involved in manifold weakneſſes and diſorders of ſoul, that the divine goodneſs and clemency will have mercy on ſuch as ſincerely love him, and deſire to ſerve him with duty and gratitude; will be propitious and placable to the penitents, and all who exert their utmoſt endeavours in the purſuits of virtue: And ſince the perfection of virtue muſt conſtitute the ſupreme felicity of man, our efforts to attain it, muſt be effectual in obtaining compleat felicity, or at leaſt ſome lower degree of it.

7. Of Revealed Religion.

This beautiful, moral Philoſophy I found ſcattered in the wtitings of the old [12]theiſt philoſophers, and with great pains reduced the various leſſons to a ſyſtem of active and virtuous offices: but this I knew was what the majority of mankind were incapable of doing; and if they could do it, I ſaw it was far inferior to revelation. Every Sunday I appropriated to the ſtudy of reveled Religion, and perceived as I read the ſacred records, that the Works of Plato, and Cicero, and Epictetus, and all the uninſpired ſages of antiquity, were but weak rules in reſpect of the divine oracles. It is the mercy and power of God in the triumphs of grace, that reſtores mankind from the bondage and ignorance of idolatry. To this the ſinner owes the converſion of his ſoul. It is the ſtatutes of the Lord that rejoyce the heart, and enlighten the eyes. What are all the reaſonings of the philoſophers to the melody of that heavenly voice which crys continually, Come unto me all ye that travel and are heavy laden, and I will refreſh you. — And what could their leſſons avail without thoſe expreſs promiſes of grace and ſpiritual aſſiſtance, which the blood of the new covenant confirms to mankind? The philoſophy of Greece and Rome was admirable for the times and men: but it admits of no compariſon with the divine leſſons of our holy religion, and the charter of God's pardon granted to us by his bleſſed [13]Son. Beſide, the philoſophers were in ſome degree dark and doubtful in reſpect of death and futurity; and in relation to this world, there is not a power in their diſcourſes, to preſerve us from being undone by allurements, in the midſt of plenty, and to ſecure our peace againſt the caſualties of fortune, and the torments of diſappointments; to ſave us from the cares and ſollicitudes which attend upon large poſſeſſions, and give us a mind capable of reliſhing the good things before us; to make us eaſy and ſatisfied as to the preſent, and render us ſecure and void of fear as to the future. Theſe things we learn from revelation, and are informed by the ſacred records only, that if we are placed here in the midſt of many fears and ſorrows, and are often perplexed with evils in this world; yet they are ſo many warnings not to ſet up our reſt here, but to keep a ſtedfaſt eye upon the things which God has prepared for thoſe who love him. It is the goſpel informs us, there is another ſcene prepared for the moral world, and that juſtice only waits to ſee the full proof of the righteouſneſs, or unrighteouſneſs of men: that that ſcene will open with the judgment ſeat of Chriſt, and we ſhall either receive glory and immortality, if we have obeyed the calls of grace []to virtue and holineſs; — or, be doomed to the moſt dreadful miſeries, if we reject the counſel of God, and live quite thoughtleſs of the great concerns of eternity. Theſe conſiderations made me prefer reveled religion, in the beginning of my rational life. The morality of the antient philoſophers I admired. With delight I ſtudied their writings, and received, I gratefully confeſs, much improvement from them. But the religion of our bleſſed Lord I declared for, and look on the promiſed Meſſiah as the moſt conſummate bleſſing God could beſtow, or man receive. God having raiſed up his Son Jeſus, ſent him to bleſs you, in turning every one of you from your iniquities. And would men but hear and obey this life-giving Redeemer, his Goſpel would reſtore reaſon and religion to their rightful authority over mankind; and make all virtue, and true goodneſs, flouriſh in the earth.

8. Of falſe religion.

But I muſt obſerve that, by the religion of the New Teſtament, I do not mean any of thoſe modern ſchemes of religion, which diſcover the evident marks and ſignatures of ſuperſtition and enthuſiaſm, or of knavery and impoſture; thoſe ſyſtems which even miracles cannot prove to be true, becauſe the pieties are abſurd, inconſiſtent and contradictory. The notions that are not [15]characterized by the reaſon of things, and the moral fitneſs of actions, I conſidered as repugnant to the veracity, wiſdom, and goodneſs of the Almighty, and concluded, that that only could be chriſtian religion, which beared the viſible marks and ſignatures of benevolence, ſocial happineſs, and moral fitneſs, and was brought down from heaven to inſtruct mankind in the worſhip of One eternal mind, and bring them to repentance, and amendment of life. This was the religion I found in my Bible. I ſaw with pleaſure, as I thoughtfully went through the divine pages, that natural religion is the foundation and ſupport of revelation; — ſupplies the defects of nature, but never attempts to overthrow the eſtabliſhed principles of it; —caſts new light upon the dictates of reaſon, but never overthrows them. Pure theiſm, and Chriſt the appointed Mediator, Advocate, and Judge, by a commiſſion from God the Father, to me appeared to be the Goſpel;— and the directions of the holy Spirit, to believe in one ſupreme independent firſt cauſe, and worſhip in ſpirit and truth this one God and Father of All, in the name of Chriſt Jeſus; as the diſciples of the Meſſiah; to copy after the life of our bleſſed Saviour, and to the utmoſt of our abilities, obey all his commands.—This was the religion I found in the writings of the apoſtles, and I then [16]determined to regard only this Goſpel-doctrine.

9. Coſmography and Mathematicks.

The manner of my ſtudying Coſmography and Mathematicks is not worth ſetting down, as there was nothing uncommon in it. In the one I only learned to diſtinguiſh climates, latitudes, and the four diviſions of the world; the provinces, nations, kingdoms and republicks comprized therein, and to be able to diſcourſe upon them: — And in the other, I went no further than to make myſelf a maſter of vulgar and decimal arithmetick, the doctrine of infinite ſeries, and the application of algebra, to the higher geometry of curves. Algebra I was charmed with, and found ſo much pleaſure in reſolving its queſtions, that I have often ſat till morning at the engaging work, without a notion of its being day till I opened the ſhutters of my cloſet. I recommend this ſtudy in particular to young gentlemen, and am ſatisfied, if they would but take ſome pains at firſt to underſtand it, they would have ſo great a reliſh for its operations, as to prefer them many an evening to the clamorous pleaſures; or, at leaſt, not be uneaſy for being alone now and then, ſince their algebra was with them.

10. Method of reading Hiſtory.

In reading hiſtory, (my laſt years principal employment, during my reſidence in college), I began with the beſt writers of antient hiſtory and ended with modern times, epochs, centuries, ages; the extent of empires, [17]kingdoms, common-wealths; their progreſs, revolutions, changes and declenſions; the number, order, and qualities of the Princes, that have reigned over thoſe ſtates and kingdoms, their actions military and civil; the characters and actions of the great men that flouriſhed under them; and the laws, the arts, learning and manners, I carefully marked down, and obſerved not only how the firſt governments were formed, but what the progreſs was of induſtry and property, which may be called the generative principle of empire.

When I had done with antient Hiſtory, I ſat down to the beſt modern ſtories I could get, and read of diſtant nations before I began to ſtudy my country's conſtitution, hiſtory and laws. When I had finiſhed the hiſtories of France, and Spain, and Italy, and Germany, and many more, then I turned to Great-Britain, and in the firſt place took a view of the Engliſh conſtitution and government, in the antient books of the common law, and ſome more modern writers, who out of them have given an account of this government. From thence I proceeded to our Hiſtory, and with it joined in every King's reign the laws then made. This gave me an inſight into the reaſon of our ſtatutes, and ſhewed me the true ground upon which they came to be made, and what [18]weight they ought to have. By this means, I read the hiſtory of my country with intelligence, and was able to examine into the excellence or defects of its government, and to judge of the fitneſs or unfitneſs of its orders and laws. By this method I did likewiſe know enough of the law for an Engliſh gentleman, tho' quite ignorant of the chicane, or wrangling and captious part of the law, and was well acquainted with the true meaſure of right and wrong. The arts how to avoid doing right, and to ſecure one's ſelf in doing wrong, I never looked into.

11. A reflection on Hiſtory.

Thus did I read Hiſtory, and many noble leſſons I learned from it; juſt notions of true worth, true greatneſs, and ſolid happineſs. It taught me to place merit where it only lies, not in birth, not in beauty, not in riches, not in external ſhew and magnificence, not in voluptuouſneſs; but, in a firm adherence to truth and rectitude; in an untainted heart, that would not pollute or proſtitute its integrity in any degree, to gain the higheſt worldly honours, or to ward off the greateſt worldly miſery. This is true magnanimity: And he alone can be truly happy, as well as truly great, who can look down with generous contempt upon every thing that would tempt him to recede in the ſmalleſt degree from the paths of rigid honeſty, candour and veracity.

[19]
Es Modicus Voti, preſſo lare, dulcis Amicis;
Jam nunc aſtringas; jam nunc granaria laxes;
Inque luto fixum poſſis tranſcendere Nummum;
Nec gluto ſorbere Salivam Mercurialem?
Haec mea ſunt, teneo, cum vere dixeris: Eſto
Liberque ac Sapiens, Praetoribus ac Jove dextro.
Sin tu, cum fueris Noſtrae paulò ante farinae,
Pelliculam veterem retines, et fronte politus
Aſtutam Vapido ſervas ſub pectore Vulpem;
Quae dederam ſuprà, Repeto, funemque Reduco.
Nil tibi conceſſit Ratio: digitum exere peccas,
Et quid tam parvum eſt? Sed nullo thure litabis,
Haereat in Stultis brevis ut ſemuncia Recti.
Haec miſcere Nefas: —

Are you moderate in your deſires, frugal, and obliging to your friends? Do you know when to ſpare, and when to be liberal, as occaſion requires? And can you give a check to your avarice, in ſpight of all temptations which are laid in your way? Can you refrain from being too greedy in your purſuits after riches? When you can ſincerely affirm that you are maſter of your ſelf, and of all theſe good qualities, then you are free indeed, [20]and wiſe, by the propitious power of Jove and the Praetor.

But if you retain the old habits of a ſlave, and harbour ill qualities, under the hypocritical appearance of virtue, you are as much a ſlave as ever, while thus enſlaved to your vices. Philoſophy gives no indulgence to vice — makes no allowance for any crime. If in wagging your finger, you acted againſt reaſon, you tranſgreſs, tho' the thing be of ſo trifling a nature. All the ſacrifices you can offer will never paſs for a dram of rectitude, while your conduct is faulty. Wiſdom is incompatible with folly.

When to be bountiful, and when to ſpare,
And never craving, or oppreſs'd with care;
The baits of gifts, and money to deſpiſe,
And look on wealth with undeſiring eyes;
When thou canſt truly call theſe virtues thine,
Be wiſe and free by Heav'n's conſent and mine.
But thou, who lately of the common ſtrain,
Wert one of us, if ſtill thou doſt retain
The ſame ill habits, the ſame follies too,
Gloſs'd over only with a ſaint-like ſhow,
Then I reſume the freedom which I gave,
Still thou art bound to vice, and ſtill a ſlave.
Thou canſt not wag thy finger, or begin
The leaſt ſlight motion, but it tends to ſin.
[21]How's this? Not wag my finger, he replies?
No, friend; not fuming gums, nor ſacrifice,
Can ever make a madman free, or wiſe.
Virtue and vice are never in one ſoul:
A man is wholly wiſe, or wholly is a fool.

This is the great leſſon, that virtue alone is true honour, true freedom, and ſolid, durable happineſs. It is indeed its own reward. There are no ſatisfactions equal to, or comparable with virtuous, rational exerciſes; nor can virtuous diſpoſitions, and well improved moral powers be rewarded, or receive happineſs ſuited to their nature, but from their exerciſes and employments about proper objects. And as virtue gives pleaſure here in proportion to the improvements it makes, far beyond all that mere ſenſe can yield, in the moſt advantageous circumſtances of outward enjoyment; ſo in a ſtate to come, it ſhall be ſo placed as its improvements require, that is, be placed in circumſtances that ſhall afford it buſineſs or employment proportioned to its capacity, and by means thereof the higheſt ſatisfaction. — Such a baſis for building moral inſtructions upon we find in hiſtory. We are warned in ſome pages to avoid the miſeries and wretchedneſs which many have fallen into by departing from reaſon or virtue: — And in others, we meet with ſuch virtuous characters and actions, as ſet forth the charms [22]of integrity in their full luſtre, and prove that virtue is the ſupreme beauty, the ſupreme charm: that in keeping the precepts of moral rectitude, we ſecure a preſent felicity and reward; and have a preſage of thoſe higher rewards which await a ſteady courſe of right conduct in another world.— Glorious, natural virtue! Would mankind but hearken to its voice, and obey its dictates, there would be no ſuch Beings as Invaders, Delinquents, and Traitors, in this lower world. The ſocial inclinations and diſpoſitions would for ever prevail over the ſelfiſh appetites and paſſions. The law of benevolence would be the rule of life. The advancement of the common good would be the work of every man.

12. A Reflection on Government and Religion.

The caſe however is; that the generality of mankind are too corrupt, to be governed by the great univerſal law of ſocial nature, and to gratify ambition, avarice, and the like, employ a cunning or power, to ſeize the natural rights and properties of others: and therefore, to natural virtue grounded on the reaſon and fitneſs of things, in themſelves, the firſt and principal mean of ſecuring the peace and happineſs of ſociety, it was neceſſary to add two other grand principles, civil government and Religion, and ſo have three conducible means to ſocial happineſs. Theſe three are neceſſary to the being of a publick, and of [23]them, religion as I take it, is of the firſt conſequence; for the choice few only mind a natural Virtue, or benevolence flowing from the reaſon, nature, and fitneſs of things; and civil government cannot always ſecure the happineſ of mankind in particular caſes: but Religion, rightly underſtood, and fixed upon its true and proper foundation, might do the work, in conjunction with the other two principles, and ſecure the happineſs of Society. If mankind were brought to the belief and worſhip of one only true God, and to a ſincere obedience to his Will, as we have it diſcovered in Revelation, I think, appetite and paſſion would ceaſe to invade by violence or fraud, or ſet up for private intereſt in oppoſition to the publick ſtock or common good. But, alas! Religion is ſo far from being rightly underſtood, that it is rendered by ſome explainers the moſt doubtful and diſputable thing in the world. They have given it more phaſes than the moon, and made it every thing, and nothing, while they are ſcreaming or forcing the people into their ſeveral factions. This deſtroys the moment of Religion, and the multitude are thereby wandered into endleſs mazes and perplexities, and rendered a hairing, ſtaring, wrathful rabble; inſtead of being transformed into ſuch chriſtians as filled the firſt church at [24] Jeruſalem; chriſtians who acknowledged and worſhipped God the Father Almighty, in the name of Chriſt, that is, under a belief of that authority and power which the Father of the Univerſe has, for the good of mankind, conferred upon him; and in humility and meekneſs, in mortification and ſelf-denial, in a renunciation of the ſpirit, wiſdom, and honours of this world, in a love of God, and deſire of doing God's will, and ſeeking only his honour, were by the Goſpel made like unto Chriſt. Golden Religion! Golden Age! The Doctrine of Chriſtianity was then a Reſtoration of true Religion: the practice of Chriſtianity, a Reſtoration of human Nature. But now, alas! too many explainers are employed in darkening and making doubtful the reveled Will of God, and by paraphraſes, expoſitions, commentaries, notes, and gloſſes, have almoſt rendered revelation uſeleſs. What do we ſee in the vaſt territories of Popery, but a perfect Diaboliſm in the place of the religion of our Lord; doctrines the moſt impious and abſurd, the moſt inconſiſtent and contradictory in themſelves, the moſt hurtful and miſchievous in their conſequences; the whole ſupported by perſecution, by the ſophiſtry of learned knaves, and the tricks of jugling prieſts? And if we turn our eyes from theſe regions of impoſture and cruelty, to the realms of proteſtants, do we not find ſome learned chriſtian crities and expoſitors [25]reducing the inſpired writings to a dark ſcience? without regard to the nature and intrinſick character of their doctrines, do they not advance notions as true and divine, which have not one appearance of divine Authority; but, on the contrary, mililitate with the reaſon of things, and the moral fitneſs of actions; and are ſo far from being plain and clear, free from all doubtfulneſs, or ambiguity, and ſuited to the underſtandings and capacity of men, that the darkneſs of them renders ſuch pretended revelations of little ſervice; and impeaches the veracity, wiſdom, and goodneſs of God? Alas! too many explainers are clamorous, under the infallible ſtrength of their own perſuaſions, and exert every power to unman us into believers. How the apoſtles argued for the great excellency and dignity of Chriſtianity is not with them the queſtion; ſo far as I am able to judge from their learned writings; but the fathers, and our ſpiritual ſuperiors have put upon the ſacred writings the proper explications; and we muſt receive the truth as they diſpenſe it to us. This is not right, in my conception. I own it does not ſeem to anſwer the end of the Meſſiah's coming, which was to reſtore Reaſon and Religion to their rightful authority over mankind; and to make all virtue, and true goodneſs, flouriſh in the earth; the moſt perfect bleſſing to [26]be ſure that God could beſtow on man, or man receive from God. This bleſſing we muſt miſs, if human authority is to pin us down to what it pleaſes to call ſenſe of ſcripture, and will ſet up the judgment of fallible men as the teſt of Chriſtianity. The Chriſtian Laity are miſerable indeed, if they be put under an obligation to find that to be truth which is taught by theſe Leaders. In truth, we ſhould be unhappy men, with a revelation in our churches and our cloſets, if the leaders had a right to make their own faith paſs for the faith of the Apoſtles; or, if we refuſed it, might lance the weapons of this world at their people. What muſt we do then as true Chriſtians? I think for my ſelf, that we ought to form our judgment, in matters of faith, upon a ſtrict, ſerious and impartial examination of the Holy Scriptures, without any regard to the judgment of others, or human authority whatever: that we ought to open the ſacred records, without minding any ſyſtems, and from the reveled word of God learn that, Chriſtianity does not conſiſt in a jingle of unintelligible ſounds, and new fundamentals, hewn out by craft, enthuſiaſm, or bigotry, and maintained with an outrage of uncharitable zeal, which delivers Chriſtians to the flames of an eternal hell: but that, the heavenly religion of our Lord conſiſts in looking on the promiſed Meſſiah, [27]as the moſt conſummate bleſſing God could beſtow, or man receive; and that Jeſus is that Meſſiah; in acting according to the rules of the Goſpel, and in ſtudying to imitate God, who is the moſt perfect underſtanding nature, in all his moral perfections; in becoming the Children of God by being (according to our capacity) perfect as he is perfect, and holy as he is holy, and merciful as he is merciful; and in our whole moral behaviour as like to him as poſſible.

In a word, to flee injuſtice, oppreſſion, intemperance, impurity, pride, unmercifulneſs, revenge: — to practiſe juſtice, piety, temperance, chaſtity, humility, beneficence, placability — to turn from our iniquities to the practice of all virtue: and through the alone mediation of the only-begotten Son of God, believe in and worſhip the eternal mind, the one ſupreme Spirit, in hope of a glorious immortality, through the ſanctification of the Holy Ghoſt: — Theſe are the things the Lord came down to teach mankind. For the New Teſtament itſelf then we muſt declare, and look upon it as the only guide, or rule of faith. It is now the only deliverer of the declarations of our Lord: And the rule in our enquiry is, that every thing neceſſary to be believed by a Chriſtian, is in thoſe Books not left to be gathered by conſequences, or implications; but the things neceſſary to [28]obtain the favor of God promiſed to Chriſtians are expreſsly declared. If this was not the caſe — if things abſolutely neceſſary were not expreſſly proclaimed to be ſo, the goſpel revelation would be no rule at all (1) .

13. The ſtory of Harriot Noel.

But it is time to tell my reader the ſtory of the beautiful Harriot Noel, which I promiſed in my third memorandum. — [29]On the glorious firſt of Auguſt, before the beaſts were rouſed from their lodges, or the [30]birds had ſoared upwards, to pour forth their morning harmony; while the mountains and the groves were overſhadowed by a dun obſcurity, and the dawn ſtill dappled the drowſy Eaſt with ſpots of grey; in ſhort, before the ſun was up, or, with his auſpicious preſence, began to animate inferior nature, I left my chamber, and with my gun and dog, went out to wander over a pleaſant country. The different aſpects and the various points of view were charming, as the light in fleecy rings encreaſed; and when the whole flood of day deſcended, the imbelliſhed early ſcene was a fine entertainment. Delighted with the beauties of this morning, I climbed up the mountains, and travelled through many a valley. The game was plenty, and for full five hours, I journeyed onward, without knowing where I was going, or thinking of a return to college.

About nine o'clock however I began to grow very hungry, and was looking round to ſee if I could diſcover any proper habitation [31]to my purpoſe, when I obſerved in a valley, at ſome diſtance, ſomething that looked like a manſion. That way therefore I moved, and with no little difficulty, as I had a precipice to deſcend, or muſt go a mile round, to arrive at the place I wanted: down therefore I marched, got a fall by the way that had like to have deſtroyed me, and after all, found it to be a ſhed for cattle. The bottom however was very beautiful, and the ſides of the hills ſweetly copſed with little woods. The valley is ſo divided, that the riſing ſun gilds it on the right hand, and when declining, warms it on the left.

— Veniens dextrum latus aſpiciat Sol,
Laevum diſcedens curru fugiente vaporet.

A pretty brook here likewiſe babbles along, and even Hebrus ſtrays not round Thrace with a purer and cooler ſtream.

Fons etiam rivo dare nomen idoneus, ut nec Frigidior Thracam nec purior ambiat Hebrus.

A Country Seat. In this ſweet and delicious ſolitude, I crept on for ſome time, by the ſide of the murmuring ſtream, and followed as it winded through the vale, till I came to a little harmonick building, that had every charm and [32]proportion architecture could give it. It was ſituated on a riſing ground in a broad part of the fruitful valley, and ſurrounded with a garden, that invited a penſive wanderer to roam in its delightful retreats, and walks amazingly beautiful. Every ſide of this fine ſpot was planted thick with underwood, and kept ſo low, as not to prevent a proſpect to every pleaſing remote object.

Finding one of the garden doors left open, I entred immediately, and to ſcreen my ſelf from the ſcorching beams of the ſun, got into an imbowered way, that led me to a large fountain, in a ring or circular opening, and from thence, by a gradual, eaſy, ſhady aſcent, to a ſemicircular amphitheatre of ever-greens, that was quite charming. In this were ſeveral ſeats for eaſe, repaſt, or retirement; and at either end of it a rotunda or temple of the Ionick order. One of them was converted into a grotto or ſhell-houſe, in which a politeneſs of fancy had produced and blended the greateſt beauties of nature and decoration. The other was a library, filled with the fineſt books, and a vaſt variety of mathematical inſtruments. Here I ſaw Miſs Noel ſitting, and ſo intent at writing, that ſhe did not take any notice of me, as I ſtood at the window, in aſtoniſhment looking at the things before me, and eſpecially at the [33]amazing beauties of her face, and the ſplendor of her eyes; as ſhe raiſed them now and then from the paper ſhe writ on, to look into a Hebrew Bible, that lay open upon a ſmall deſk before her. The whole ſcene was ſo very uncommon, and ſo vaſtly amazing, that I thought my ſelf for a while on ſome ſpot of magic ground, and almoſt doubted the reality of what my eyes beheld; till Miſs Noel, by accident, looked full at me, and then came forward to the open window, to know who I wanted.

Before I could anſwer, I found a venerable old gentleman ſtanding by my ſide, and he ſeemed much more ſurprized at the ſight of me than his daughter was; for, as this young lady told me afterward, ſhe gueſſed at once the whole affair; ſeeing me with my gun and dog, in a ſhooting dreſs; and knew it was a natural curioſity brought me into the garden, and ſtoped me at the window, when I ſaw her in ſuch an attitude, and in ſuch a place. — This I aſſured them was the truth of my caſe, with this ſmall addition however, that I was ready to periſh for want of ſomething to eat; having been from four in the morning at hard exerciſe, and had not yet broke my faſt.— If this be the caſe, ſays the good old man, you are welcome, Sir, to Eden-Park, and you ſhall ſoon have the beſt breakfaſt our houſe affords.

[34]Upon this Mr. Noel brought me into his houſe, and the lovely Harriot made tea for me, and had ſuch plenty of fine cream, and extraordinary bread and butter ſet before me, that I breakfaſted with uncommon pleaſure. The honour and happineſs of her company rendered the repaſt quite delightful. There was a civility ſo very great in her manner, and a ſocial goodneſs ſo charming in her talk and temper, that it was unſpeakable delight to ſit at table with her. She aſked me a number of queſtions relating to things and books, and people, and there was ſo much good ſenſe in every inquiry, ſo much good humour in her reflections and replications, that I was intirely charmed with her mind; and loſt in admiration, when I contemplated the wonders of her face, and the beauties of her perſon.

When breakfaſt was over, it was time for me to depart, and I made half a dozen attempts to riſe from my chair; but without her laying a roſy finger on me, this illuſtrious maid had ſo totally ſubdued my ſoul, and deprived me of all motive power, that I ſat like the renowned Prince of the Maſſagetes, who was ſtiffened by inchantment in the apartment of the Princeſs Phedima, as we read in Amadis de Gaul. This Miſs Noel ſaw very plain, and in compaſſion to my misfortune, generouſly threw in a hint []now and then, for a little farther converſation to colour my unreaſonable delay. But this could not have been of ſervice much longer, as the clock had ſtruck twelve, if the old gentleman, her father, had not returned to us, and told me, he inſiſted on my ſtaying to dine with him; for he loved to take a glaſs after dinner with a facetious companion, and would be obliged to me for my company. At preſent (Mr. Noel continued) you will excuſe me, Sir, as buſineſs engages me till we dine: but my daughter will chat the hours away with you, and ſhew you the curioſities of her library and grott. Harriot will ſupply my place.

This was a delightful invitation indeed, and after returning my hearty thanks to the old gentleman for the favour he did me, I addreſſed my ſelf to Miſs Noel, when her father was gone, and we were walking back to the library in the garden, and told her ingenuouſly, that tho' I could not be poſitive as to the ſituation of my ſoul, whether I was in love with her or not, as I never had experienced the paſſion before, nor knew what it was to admire a woman; having lived till that morning in a ſtate of indifference to her ſex; yet, I found very ſtrange emotions within me, and I was ſure I could not leave her without the moſt lively and afflicting inquietude. You will pardon, I [36]hope, Madam, this effuſion of my heart, and ſuffer me to demonſtrate by a thouſand and a thouſand actions, that I honour you in a manner unutterable, and from this time, can imagine no happineſs but with you.

A Converſation with Miſs Noel, in relation to the Language of Adam, and the Primaevity of the Hebrew Tongue. Sir, (this inimitable maid replied) you are an intire ſtranger to me, and to declare a paſſion on a few hours acquaintance, muſt be either to try my weakneſs, or becauſe you think a young woman is incapable of reliſhing any thing but ſuch ſtuff, when alone in converſation with a gentleman. I beg then I may hear no more of this, and as I am ſure you can talk upon many more rational ſubjects, requeſt your favor, to give me your opinion on ſome articles in this Hebrew Bible you ſee lying open on the table in this room. My father, Sir, among other things he has taken great pains to inſtruct me in, for ſeveral years that I have lived with him in a kind of ſolitary ſtate, ſince the death of my mother, whom I loſt when I was very young, has taught me to read and underſtand this inſpired Hebrew book; and ſays we muſt aſcribe primaevity and ſacred prerogatives to this language. For my part, I have ſome doubts as to this matter, which I dare not mention to my father. Tell me, if you pleaſe, what you think of the thing.

[37]Miſs Noel, (I anſwered) ſince it is your command, that I ſhould be ſilent as to that flame your glorious eyes and underſtanding have lighted up in my ſoul, like ſome ſuperior nature, before whom I am nothing, ſilent I will be, and tell you what I fancy on a ſubject I am certain you underſtand much better than I do. My knowledge of the Hebrew is but ſmall, tho' I have learned to read and underſtand the Old-Teſtament in the Ante-Babel language.

My opinion on your queſtion is, that the Biblical Hebrew was the language of Paradiſe, and continued to be ſpoken by all men down to, and at the time of Moſes writing the pentateuch, and long after. Abraham, tho' bred in Chaldea, could converſe freely with the Egyptians, the Sodomites, and the King of Gerar; nor do we find, that any variety of ſpeech interrupted the commerce of his ſon Iſaac with the ſeveral nations around, or that it ever ſtopt Jacob in his travels. Nay, the Iſraelites, in their journey through the deſarts of Arabia, (after they had been ſome hundred years in Egypt) tho' joined by a mixt multitude, and meeting with divers kinds of people, had not corrupted their language, and were eaſily underſtood, becauſe it was then the univerſal one. The ſimplicity and diſtinctneſs of the Hebrew tongue preſerved its purity ſo long [38]and ſo univerſally. It could not well be degenerate till the knowledge of nature was loſt, as its words conſiſt but of two or three letters, and are perfectly well ſuited to convey ſenſible and ſtrong ideas. It was at the captivity (2) , in the ſpace of ſeventy years, that the Jews, by temporiſing with the ignorant victors, ſo far neglected the uſage of their own tongue, that none but the ſcribes or learned men could underſtand Moſes's books.

This I confeſs (Miſs Noel ſaid) is a plauſible account of the primaevity and pre-eminence of the ſacred Hebrew, but I think it is not neceſſary the account ſhould be allowed as fact. As to its being the language in Paradiſe, this is not very probable, as a compaſs of 1800 years muſt have changed the firſt language very greatly by an increaſe of words, and new inflections, applications, and conſtructions of them. The few firſt inhabitants of the earth were occupied in few things, and wanted not a [41]variety of words; but when their deſcendants invented arts and improved ſciences, they were obliged to coin new words and technical terms, and by extending and transferring their words to new ſubjects, and uſing them figuratively, were forced to multiply the ſenſes of thoſe already in uſe. The language to be ſure was thus gradually cultivated, and every age improved it. All living languages are liable to ſuch change. I therefore conclude, that the language which ſerved the firſt pair would not do for ſucceeding generations. It became vaſtly more copious and extenſive, when the numbers of mankind were great, and their language muſt ſerve converſation and the ends of life, and anſwer all the purpoſes of intelligence and correſpondence. New words and new terms of ſpeech, from time to time were neceſſary, to give true ideas of the things, actions, offices, places, and times peculiar to the Hebrews. Even Hutchinſon allows there was ſome coinage, ſome new words framed. We find in the latter prophets words not to be met with in the Pentateuch: and from thence we may ſuppoſe, that Moſes uſed words unknown to Nimrod and Heber: and that the men at Shinaar (3) had words which the people before []the flood were ſtrangers to. Even in the ſeventeenth century, there muſt have been a great alteration in the language of Adam; and when the venerable Patriarch and his family came into a new world, that was in a different ſtate from the earth before the deluge, and ſaw a vaſt variety of things without precedent in the old world, the alterations in nature and diet, muſt introduce a multitude of new terms in things of common experience and uſage; as, after that amazing revolution in the natural world, not only the clouds and meteors were different, and the ſouls that were ſaved had a new and aſtoniſhing view of the ruin and repair of the ſyſtem; but Noah did then begin to be an huſbandman; he planted a vineyard; he invented wine; and to him the firſt grant was given of eating fleſh. All theſe things required as it were a new language, and the terms to be ſure with mankind encreaſed. The Noachical language muſt be quite another thing after the great events of the flood. Had Methuſelah, who converſed many years with Adam, who received [41]from his mouth the hiſtory of the creation and fall, and who lived 600 years with Noah, to communicate to him all the knowledge he got from Adam; had this Antediluvian wiſe man been raiſed from the dead to converſe with the poſtdiluvian fathers, or even with Noah, the year he died, that is, 350 years after the flood; is it not credible, from what I have ſaid, that he would have heard a language very different from that tongue he uſed in his converſations with Adam, even in the 930th year of the firſt man (4) ? I imagine, Methuſelah [42]would not have been able to have talked with Noah, at the time I have mentioned, of the circumſtances that then made the caſe of mankind, and of the things of common experience and uſage. He muſt have been unable to converſe at his firſt appearance.

What you ſay, Madam, (I replyed) is not only very probable, but affords a ſatisfaction unexpected in a ſubject on which we are obliged, for want of data, to uſe conjectures. I offer up to your ſuperior ſenſe the notion, that the Scriptures were wrote in the language of Paradiſe. Moſt certain it is, that even in reſpect of our own language, for example, the ſubjects of Henry the 1ſt, would find it as much out of their power to underſtand the Engliſh of George the 1ſt's reign, were they brought up again, as the ordinary people of our time are at a loſs to make any thing of the Engliſh written in the 1ſt Henry's reign. But when I have granted this, you will be pleaſed to inform me, how Abraham and his ſons converſed and commerced with the nations, if the Hebrew was not the univerſal language in their time? If the miracle at Babel was a confuſion of tongues, as is generally ſuppoſed, how did the holy family talk and act with ſuch diſtant Kings and people? Illuminate me, thou glorious girl in this dark article, and be my teacher in Hebrew learning, as I flatter [43]my ſelf you will be the guide and dirigent of all my notions and my days. Yes, charming Harriot, my fate is in your hands. Diſpoſe of it as you will, and make me what you pleaſe.

You force me to ſmile, (the illuſtrious Miſs Noel replyed) and oblige me to call you an odd compound of a man. Pray, Sir, let me have no more of thoſe romantic flights, and I will anſwer your queſtion as well as I can; but it muſt be at ſome other time. There is more to be ſaid on the miracle at Babel, and its effects, than I could diſpatch between this and our hour of dining, and therefore, the remainder of our leiſure till dinner, we will paſs in a viſit to my grotto, and in walking round the garden to the parlour we came from. To the grotto then we went, and to the beſt of my power I will give my reader a deſcription of this ſplendid room.

A Deſcription of Miſs Noel's grotto. In one of the fine rotunda's I have mentioned, at one end of the green amphitheatre very lately deſcribed, the ſhining apartment was formed. Miſs Noel's hand had covered the floor with the moſt beautiful Moſaic my eyes have ever beheld, and filled the arched roof with the richeſt foſſil gems. The Moſaic painting on the ground was wrought with ſmall coloured ſtones or pebbles, and ſharp pointed bits of glaſs, meaſured [44]and proportioned together, ſo as to imitate in their aſſemblage the ſtrokes and colour of the objects, which they were intended to repreſent, and they repreſented by this lady's art, the Temple of Tranquillity, deſcribed by Voluſenus in his dream.

The Temple of Tranquility and a remarkable Inſcription. At ſome diſtance the fine temple looks like a beautiful painted picture, as do the birds, the beaſts, the trees, in the fields about it, and the river which murmurs at the bottom of the riſing ground; Amnis lucidus & vadoſus in quo cernere erat varii generis piſces colludere. So wonderfully did this genius perform the piece, that fiſhes of many kinds ſeem to take their paſstime in the bright ſtream. But above all, is the image of the philoſopher, at the entrance of the temple, vaſtly fine. With pebbles and ſcraps of glaſs, all the beauties and graces are expreſſed, which the pencil of an able artiſt could beſtow on the picture of Democritus. You ſee him as Diogenes Ldertius has drawn him, with a philoſophical joy in his countenance, that ſhews him ſuperior to all events. Summum bonorum finem ſtatuit eſſe laetitiam, non eam quae ſit eadem voluptati, ſed eam per quam animus degit perturbationis expers; and with a finger, he points to the following golden inſcription on the portico of the temple:— [45]Flagrans ſit ſtudium bene merendi de ſeipſo, Et ſeipſum perficiendi.’ That is, By a rectitude of mind and life, ſecure true happineſs and the applauſe of your own heart, and let it be the labour of your every day, to come as near perfection as it is poſſible for human nature to get. This Moſaic piece of painting is indeed an admirable thing. It has a fine effect in this grotto, and is a noble monument of the maſterly hand of Miſs Noel.

Nor was her fine genius leſs viſible in the ſtriking appearance of the extremely beautiful ſhells and valuable curioſities, all round the apartment. Her father ſpared no coſt to procure her the fineſt things of the ocean and rivers from all parts of the world, and pebbles, ſtones, and ores of the greateſt curioſity and worth. Theſe were all diſpoſed in ſuch a manner as not only ſhed a glorious luſtre in the room, but ſhewed the underſtanding of this young lady in natural knowledge.

In one part of the grot, were collected and arranged the ſtony coverings of all the ſhell-fiſh in the ſea, from the ſtriated patella and its ſeveral ſpecies, to the pholades in all their ſpecies: and of thoſe that live in the freſh ſtreams, from the ſuboval limpet or umbonated patella and its ſpecies, to the triangular, [46]and deeply ſtriated cardia. Even all the land-ſhells were in this collection, from the pomatia to the round-mouthed turbo. The moſt beautiful genera of the ſea-ſhells, intermixed with foſſil corals of all the kinds; with animal ſubſtances become foſſil; and with copper-ores; agates; pebbles, pieces of the fineſt marmora and alabaſtritae, and the moſt elegant and beautiful marcaſites, and chryſtals, and ſpars. Theſe filled the greateſt part of the walls, and in claſſes, here and there, were ſcattered, as foils to raiſe the luſtre of the others, the inferior ſhells.

Among the ſimple ſea-ſhells, that is, thoſe of one ſhell, without a hinge, I ſaw ſeveral rare ones, that were neither in Mrs. O'Hara's, nor in Mrs. Crafton's grottos in Fingal, as I obſerved to thoſe ladies (5) . The ſhells I mean are the following ones.

[47]
Fine ſhells.
  • 1. The Sea Trumpet. The ſea-trumpet, which is in its perfect ſtate, nine inches long, an inch and half diameter at its mouth or irregular lip, and the opening at the ſmall end about half an inch. The ſurface is a beautiful brown, prettily ſpotted with white, and the pipe has fourteen annular ridges that are a little elevated, and of a fine purple colour.
  • 2. The Admiral. The admiral is vaſtly beautiful, a voluta two inches and a half long, and an inch in diameter, at the head, from whence it decreaſes to a cone with an obtuſe point. The ground colour is the brighteſt, elegant yellow, finer than that of Sienna marble, and this ground ſo variegated with the [48]brighteſt colours, that a little more than a third part of the ground is ſeen. Broad faſciae, the moſt charmingly varied, ſurround it, and the clavicle is the moſt elegant of objects in colours, brightneſs and irregularities. There is a punctuated line of variations that runs in the centre of the yellow faſcia, and is wonderfully pretty. This beautiful Eaſt Indian ſells at a great price.
  • 3. The Crown Imperial. The crown imperial is likewiſe extremely beautiful. This voluta is four inches long, two in diameter at the top, and its head adorned with a charming ſeries of fine tubercles, pointed at the extremities. The ground is a clear pale, and near the head and extremity of the ſhell, two very beautiful zones run round. They are of the brighteſt yellow, and in a manner the moſt elegant, are variegated with black and white purple. It is an Eaſt Indian.
  • 4. The Hebrew Letter. The Hebrew letter, another voluta, is a fine curioſity. It is two inches in length, and an inch and a quarter in diameter at the top. It is a regular conic figure, and its exerted clavicle has ſeveral volutions. The ground is like the white of a fine pearl, and the body all over variegated with irregular marks of black, which have a near reſemblance of the Hebrew characters. This elegant ſhell is an Eaſt Indian.
  • 5. The white Voluta. The white voluta, with brown and blue and purple ſpots. This very elegant ſhell, whoſe ground is a charming white, is found on the coaſt of Guinea, from five to ſix inches in length, and its diameter at the head often three inches. It tapers gradually, and at the extremity is a large obtuſe. Its variegations in its ſpots are very beautiful, and its ſpots are principally diſpoſed in many circles round the ſhell.
  • 6. The Butterfly. The butterfly is a voluta the moſt elegant of this beautiful genus. Its length is five inches in its perfection, and two and a half broad at the head. The body is an obtuſe cone: the clavicle is pointed, and in ſeveral volutions. The ground is the fineſt yellow, and beautifyed all over with ſmall brown ſpots, in regular and round ſeries. Theſe variegations are exceeding pretty, and as this rare Eaſt Indian ſhell has beſide theſe beauties three charming bands round the body, which are formed of large ſpots of a deep brown, a pale brown, and white, and reſemble the ſpots on the wings of butterflies, it is a beautiful ſpecies indeed. The animal that inhabits this ſhell is a limax.
  • 7. The Tulip Cylinder. The tulip cylinder is a very ſcarce and beautiful native of the Eaſt-Indies, and in its ſtate of perfection and brightneſs of colour, of great value. Its form is cylindric, its length four inches, and its diameter two and [50]a half, at its grateſt increaſe. Its clavicle has many volutions, and terminates in an obtuſe point. The ground colour is white, and its variegations blue and brown. They are thrown into irregular clouds in the moſt beautiful manner, and into ſome larger and ſmaller ſpots. The limax inhabits this fine ſhell.

I likewiſe ſaw in this grotto the fineſt ſpecies of the purpura, the dolia, and the porcellana. There was of the firſt genus the thorny woodcock: — of the ſecond, the harp ſhell: — and of the third, the argus ſhell.

  • 8. The thorny Woodcock. The thorny woodcock is ventricoſe, and approaches to an oval figure. Its length, full grown, is five inches; the clavicle ſhort, but in volutions diſtinct; and its roſtrum from the mouth twice the length of the reſt of the ſhell. This ſnout and the body have four ſeries of ſpines, generally an inch and half long pointed at the ends, and ſomewhat crooked. The ſpines lie in regular, longitudinal ſeries. The mouth is almoſt round, but the opening is continued in the form of a ſlit up the roſtrum. The colour of this American, and extremely elegant ſhell, is a tawny yellow, with a fine mixture of a lively brown, and by bleaching on the coaſts, it gets many ſpots of white.
  • 9. The Harp. The beautiful harp is a Chineſe; three inches and half long, and two and a half [51]in diameter. The ſhell is tumid and inflated, and at the head largeſt. It has an oblong clavicle in ſeveral volutions, pointed at the extremity, and the other extreme is a ſhort roſtrum. The whole ſurface is ornamented with elevated ribs, that are about twice as thick as a ſtraw, and as diſtant from each other as the thickneſs of four ſtraws. The colour is a fine deep brown, variegated with white and a paler brown, in a manner ſurprizingly beautiful.
  • 10. The Argus. The extremely elegant argus is from the coaſt of Africa, and is ſometimes found in the Eaſt-Indies. Its length, in a ſtate of perfection, is four inches and a half; its diameter three. It is oblong and gibbous, has a wide mouth, and lips ſo continued beyond the verge, as to form at each extremity a broad and ſhort beak. The colour is a fine pale yellow, and over the body are three brown faſciae: but the whole ſurface, and theſe faſciae, are ornamented with multitudes of the moſt beautiful round ſpots, which reſemble eyes in the wings of the fineſt butterflies. The limax inhabits this charming ſhell. This creature is the ſea-ſnail.
  • 11. The concha of Venus. The concha of Venus was the next ſhell in this young lady's collection that engaged my attention. One of them was three inches long, and two and a half in diameter. The valves were convex, and in longitudinal [52]direction deeply ſtriated. The hinge at the prominent end was large and beautifully wrought, and the opening of the ſhell was covered with the moſt elegant wrinkled lips, of the moſt beautiful red colour, finely intermixed with white; theſe lips do not unite in the middle, but have ſlender and beautiful ſpines round about the truncated ends of the ſhell. This ſhell of Venus is an American, and valued by the collectors at a high rate.
  • 12. The Hammer Oyſter. But of all the curious ſhells in this wonderful collection, the hammer oyſter was what I wondered at moſt; it is the moſt extraordinary ſhell in the world. It reſembles a pickax, with a very ſhort handle and a long head. The body of the ſhell is in the place of the handle of the inſtrument, and is four inches and a half long, and one inch and a half in diameter. What anſwered to the head of the pickax was ſeven inches long, and three quarters of an inch in diameter. This head terminates at each end in a narrow obtuſe point, is uneven at the edges, irregular in its make, and lies croſswiſe to the body: yet the valves ſhut in the cloſeſt and moſt elegant manner. The edges are deeply furrowed and plated, and the lines run in irregular directions. The colour without is a fine mixture of brown and purple; and within, a pearly white, with a tinge of [53]purple. This rare ſhell is an Eaſt-Indian, and whenever it appears at an auction is rated very high. I have known ten guineas given for a perfect one.

With a large quantity of theſe moſt beautiful ſhells, which are rarely ſeen in any collections, and with all the family of the pectens, the cardiae, the ſolens, the cylindri, the murexes, the turbines, the buccina, and every ſpecies of the fineſt genera of ſhells, Miſs Noel formed a grotto that exceeded every thing of the kind I believe in the world; all I am ſure that I have ſeen, except the late Mrs. Harcourt's in Richmondſhire; which I ſhall give my Reader a deſcription of, when I travel him up thoſe Engliſh Alpes. It was not only, that Miſs Noel's happy fancy had blended all theſe things in the wildeſt and moſt beautiful diſpoſition over the walls of the rotunda; but her fine genius had produced a variety of grotts within her grotto, and falling waters, and points of view. In one place, was the famous Atalanta, and her delightful cave: and in another part, the Goddeſs and Ulyſſes's ſon appeared at the entrance of that grott, which under the appearance of a rural plainneſs had every thing could charm the eye: the roof was ornamented with ſhell-work; the tapeſtry was a tender [54]vine; and limpid fountains ſweetly purled round.

An image of Epictetus and a remarkable Legend. But what above all the finely fancyed works in Miſs Noel's grotto pleaſed me, was, a figure of the Philoſopher Epictetus, in the centre of the grott. He ſat at the door of a cave, by the ſide of a falling water, and held a book of his philoſophy in his hand, that was written in the manner of the antients, that is, on parchment rolled up cloſe together. He appeared in deep meditation, and as part of the book had been unwrapped and gradually extended, from his knee on the ground, one could read very plain, in large Greek characters, about fifty lines. The Engliſh of the leſſon was this.

The MASTER SCIENCE.

All things have their nature, their make and form, by which they act, and by which they ſuffer. The vegetable proceeds with perfect inſenſibility. The brute poſſeſſes a ſenſe of what is pleaſurable and painful, but ſtops at mere ſenſation. The rational, like the brute, has all the powers of mere ſenſation, but enjoys a farther tranſcendent faculty. To him is imparted the maſterſcience of what he is, where he is, and the end to which he is deſtined. He is directed by the cannon of reaſon to reverence the dignity [55]of his own ſuperior character, and never wretchedly degrade himſelf into natures to him ſubordinate. The maſter ſcience (he is told) conſiſts in having juſt ideas of pleaſures and pains, true notions of the moments and conſequences of different actions and purſuits, whereby he may be able to meaſure, direct or controul his deſires or averſions, and never merge into miſeries. Remember this, Arrianus. Then only you are qualified for life, when you are able to oppoſe your appetites, and bravely dare to call your opinions to account; when you have eſtabliſhed judgment or reaſon as the ruler in your mind, and by a patience of thinking, and a power of reſiſting, before you chooſe, can bring your fancy to the teſt of truth. By this means, furniſhed with the knowledge of the effects and conſequences of actions, you will know how you ought to behave in every caſe. You will ſteer wiſely through the various rocks and ſhelves of life. In ſhort, Arrianus, the deliberate habit is the proper buſineſs of man; and his duty, to exert upon the firſt proper call, the virtues natural to his mind; that piety, that love, that juſtice, that veracity, that gratitude, that benevolence; which are the glory of human kind. Whatever is fated in that order of incontroulable events, by which the divine power preſerves and adorns [56]the whole, meet the incidents with magnanimity, and co-operate with chearfulneſs in whatever the ſupreme mind ordains. — Let a fortitude be always exerted in endurings; a juſtice in diſtributions; a prudence in moral offices; and a temperance in your natural appetites and purſuits. — This is the moſt perfect humanity. This do, and you will be a fit actor in the general drama; and the only end of your exiſtence is the due performance of the part allotted you.

Old Mr. Noel's character. Such was Miſs Noel's grotto, and with her, if it had been in my power to chooſe, I had rather have paſſed in it, the day in talking of the various fine ſubjects it contained, than go in to dinner; which a ſervant informed us was ſerving up, juſt as I had done reading the above recited philoſophical leſſon. Back then we returned to the parlour, and there found the old Gentleman. We ſat down immediately to two very good diſhes, and when that was over, Mr. Noel and I drank a bottle of old Alicant. Tho' this Gentleman was upwards of eighty, yet years had not deprived him of reaſon and ſpirits. He was lively and ſenſible, and ſtill a moſt agreeable companion. He talked of Greece and Rome, as if he had lived there before the Aera of chriſtianity. The court of Auguſtus he was ſo far from being a ſtranger [57]to, that he deſcribed the principal perſons in it; their actions, their pleaſures, and their caprices, as if he had been their contemporary. We talked of all theſe great characters. We went into the the gallery of Verres. We looked over the antient theatres. Several of the moſt beautiful paſſages in the Roman poets this fine old man repeated, and made very pleaſant, but moral remarks upon them.

The cry (ſaid he) ſtill is as it was in the days of Horace

O cives, cives, quaerenda pecunia primum,
Virtus poſt nummos.—
Unde habeas nemo quaerit, ſed oportet habere.
Quorum animis, a prima lanugine, non inſedit illud?

And what Catullus told his Leſbia, is it not approved to this day by the largeſt part of the great female world?

Vivamus, mea Leſbia, atque amemus,
Rumoreſque Senium Severiorum,
Omnes unius aeſtimemus aſſis.
Soles occidere et redire poſſunt,
Nobis, cum ſemel occidit brevis lux,
Nox eſt perpetua una dormiendo.
Haec diſcunt omnes ante Alpha & Beta puellae.

The girls all learns this leſſon before their [58]A. B. C: And as to the opinion of the poet, it ſhews how ſadly the Auguſtan age, with all its learning, and polite advantages, was corrupted: and as Virgil makes a jeſt of his own fine deſcription of a paradiſe or the Elyſian fields; as is evident from his diſmiſſing his hero out of the ivory gate; which ſhews he was of the ſchool of Epicurus; it is from theſe things manifeſt, that we can never be thankful enough for the principles and dictates of reveled religion: we can never ſufficiently adore the goodneſs of the moſt glorious Eternal for the goſpel of Jeſus Chriſt; which opens the unbounded regions of eternal day to the virtuous and charitable, and promiſes them a reſt from labour, and ever blooming joys: while it condemns the wicked to the regions of horror and ſolid darkneſs; that dreadful region, from whence the cries of miſery for ever aſcend, but can never reach the throne of mercy.—O heavenly religion! deſigned to make men good, and for ever happy: that preſerves the dignity of human nature — Guards and encreaſes virtue—And brings us to the realms of perfect reaſon and excellent glory.

But (continued this fine old Gentleman) Tibulius has ever pleaſed me in the deſcription of his miſtreſs: [59]

Illam quicquid agit, quoquo veſtigia flectit.
Componit furtim ſubſequiturque decor;
Seu ſolvit crines, fuſis decet eſſe capillis;
Seu compſit comptis eſt veneranda comis.
Urit ſeu Tyria voluit procedere pulla;
Urit ſeu nivea candida veſte venit.
Talis in aeterno felix Vertumnus Olympo
Mille habet ornatus, mille decenter habet.

Theſe elegant lines contain an inimitably beautiful deſcription of outward grace, and its charming effects upon all who ſee it. Such a grace, without thinking of it, every one ſhould ſtrive to have, whatever they are doing. They ſhould make it habitual to them. Quintilian ſeems to have had theſe fine lines in view, in his deſcription of outward behaviour: Neque enim geſtum componi ad ſimilitudinem ſaltationis volo, ſed ſubeſſe aliquid, in hac exercitatione puerili, unde nos non id agentes, furtim decor ille diſcentibus traditus ſubſequatur. Cap. 10.—I am not for having the mein of a gentleman the ſame with that of a dancing-maſter; but that a boy while young, ſhould enter upon this exerciſe, that it may communicate a ſecret gracefulneſs to his manner ever after.

In this manner, did the old gentleman and I paſs the time, till the clock ſtruck five, when Miſs Noel came into the parlour again, and her father ſaid he muſt retire, to take [60]his evening nap, and would ſee me at ſupper; for with him I muſt ſtay that night. Harriot, make tea for the Gentleman. I am your ſervant, ſir; and he withdrew. To Harriot then, my life and my bliſs, I turned, and over a pot of tea was as happy, I am ſure, as ever with his Statira ſat the conqueror of the world. I began to relate once more the ſtory of a paſſion, that was to form one day, I hoped, my ſole felicity in this world, and with vows and proteſtations affirmed, that I loved from my ſoul. Charming angel, I ſaid, the beauties of your mind have inſpired me with a paſſion, that muſt encreaſe every time I behold the harmony of your face; and by the powers divine, I ſwear to love you, ſo long as Heaven ſhall permit me to breath the vital air. Bid me then either live or die, and while I do live, be aſſured, that my life will be devoted to you only.—But in vain was all this warmth. Miſs Noel ſat as unmoved as Erycina on a monument, and only anſwered, with a ſmile, Since your days, ſir, are in my diſpoſal, I deſire you will change to ſome other ſubject, and ſome article that is rational and uſeful: otherwiſe, I muſt leave the room.

A ſecond converſation with Miſs Noel; relating to the Miracle at Babel, and the Confuſion of tongues. To leave me, I replied, would be inſupportable, and therefore, at once I have done. If you pleaſe then, Madam, [61]we will conſider the miracle at Babel, and enquire into the language of the world at that time. Allowing, as you have proved in our late converſation, that the language after the flood was quite another thing from that uſed in Paradiſe, and of conſequence, that Moſes did not write in that tongue which Adam and Eve converſed in; nor is Hebrew of that primevity which ſome great men affirm; yet, if there was a confuſion of tongues at Babel, and many languages were ſpoken in the earth in the days of Abraham, then, how did he and his ſons converſe ſo eaſily with the various nations they paſſed through, and had occaſional connexions with? For my part, I think with Mr. Hutchinſon, that the divine interpoſition at Babel was for quite another end, to wit, to confound their confeſſion, and caſt out of their minds the name or object of it, that a man might not liſten to the lip or confeſſion of his neighbour. They were made to loſe their own lip, and to differ about the words of their atheiſtical confeſſion.

As to a confuſion of confeſſions (Miſs Noel replyed), it appears to me to be a notion without any foundation to reſt on. The argument of Hutchinſon that the word Shephah, the name for a lip, when uſed for the voice or ſpeech, is never once in the Bible uſed in any other ſenſe than for confeſſion, is [62]not good; becauſe tho' Shephah is often generally uſed for religious diſcourſe or confeſſion; yet the phraſes, other lips and other tongues, are alſo uſed for other languages, utterances, pronunciations, dialects. St. Paul, 1. Cor. 14.21.22. applys Shephah to language or dialect in his quotation from the prophet Iſaiah, ch. 28. ver. 11.12.—He ſays, in the law it is written, With The words men of are not in the Greek. MEN OF other tongues and other lips will I ſpeak unto this people, and yet for all that, they will not hear me: —And the words of the prophet are, ſpeaking of Chriſt promiſed; with ſtammering lips, and another tongue will be ſpeak to this people. It is evident from this, that the Hebrew word Shephah here ſignifies tongues or languages, and not confeſſions or diſcourſe: So the apoſtle applies it, and explains the prophet: and by ſtammering lips Iſaiah means the uncouth pronunciations of barbarous dialects, or languages of the nations, which muſt produce in ſtrangers to them ridiculous lips or mouths; and in this he refers undoubtedly to the ſtammering and ſtrange ſounds, at the Babelconfuſion; when God, by a miracle and viſible exhibition, diſtorted their organs of ſpeech, and gave them a trembling, heſitation, and precipitancy, as to vocal and other powers: In ſhort, the miraculous gift of tongues would in ſome meaſure affect the ſaints, in reſpect of pronunciation, [31]as the miracle of Babel did the people of that place. (6) Nor is this the only place [64]in ſcripture where Shephah, lip, ſignifies language, pronunciations, and dialects; and where there is reference to the confuſion of tongues at Babel: Iſaiah ſpeaking of the privileges of the godly, ſays,—Thou ſhalt not ſee a fierce people, of a deeper ſpeech than thou canſt perceive, (of a deeper lip than thou canſt bear, Heb.) of a ſtammering or ridiculous tongue, that thou canſt not underſtand. This is enough in anſwer to Mr. Hutchinſon and his fautors, in reſpect of what they ſay on the confuſion at Babel. This proves that the word Shephah, lip, ſignifies language, utterance, dialect, as well as confeſſion or diſcourſe: and therefore, Moſes, in his account of the miracle at Babel, might have meant a confuſion of languages. That he did mean this, is plane not only from a tradition gone out into all the earth, which is a matter of greater regard than Mr. Hutchinſon's fancy; [65]but becauſe the ſacred oracles allude to this event. Beſide St. Paul aforementioned; the royal prophet in Pſalm 55. ver. 9. refers to the means of the diviſion of tongues, and denounces a curſe in terms taken from that inflicted at Babel. Swallow up, O Lord, and divide their tongues. This ſeems to deſcribe the manner of that confuſion; — that the ſubſtance of the one language was ſunk or ſwallowed up in a vaſt chaos of univerſal babble: and that out of that jargon, it was again (by another act) divided or broken into many particular diſſonant dialects, or tongues.

All this (I ſaid) is very juſt, and gives me delight and ſatisfaction. I am now convinced, not only, that Hebrew was not the language of Paradiſe, or that Adam did not ſpeak the tongue the old world uſed immediately before the confuſion at Babel; but likewiſe, that the diviſion there was a diviſion and confuſion of the one language then ſpoken; and not a confuſion of confeſſions, as Mr. Hutchinſon affirms. Inform me however, if you pleaſe, what you mean by that tradition you mentioned, which declared the miracle of Babel was a confuſion of languages.

The Jews tradition (replied Miſs Noel) is preſerved in their Targum, and tells us, that the whole earth after the flood was of one ſpeech, or ſort of words, and when at their firſt remove from Ararat, they came to Shinar, they conſulted to build them a city, [66]and a tower for an houſe of adoration, whoſe head might reach to, or be towards the Heavens, and to place an image of the hoſt of Heaven, for an object of worſhip, on the top of it; and to put a ſword in his hand, that he might make war for them againſt the divine armies, to prevent their diſperſion over the whole earth. Whereupon the word of the Lord was reveled from Heaven, to execute vengeance upon them, and the Lord corrupted their tongue, broke their ſpeech into ſeventy languages, and ſcattered them over the face of the whole earth. No one knew what his fellow ſaid: and they ſlew one another, and ceaſed from building the city. Therefore he called the name of it Babel; becauſe there the Lord mingled together the tongues of all the inhabitants of the other. This you read in the Targum that was written before the days of Jeſus Chriſt, as the Jews affirm: or, if not ſo early, yet it is a very antient book, and the doctor who compoſed it muſt certainly know the meaning of the word Shephah better than Mr. Hutchinſon. It appears upon the whole, that the argument of this famous modern is without foundation.

It is indeed (I anſwered): But then I am not able to conceive how Abraham and his ſons converſed with ſo many nations —or how the Hebrew that Moſes writ in was preſerved. Illuminate me in theſe things, [67] illuſtrious Harriot, and from your fine underſtanding, let me have the honour and happineſs of receiving true Hebrew leſſons. Proceed I beſeech you, and ſtop not till you have expounded to my underſtanding the true nature of Cherubim? What do you think of Mr. Hutchinſon's Rub and Rubbim, and of his notions of Ezekiel's cherubic form.

To talk of Cherubim and Elohim (reſumed Miſs Noel), and ſay all that ought to be ſaid, (to ſpeak to any purpoſe) of the three heads and four viſages, the bull, the man, the lyon, and the eagle, mentioned in the prophet, requires more knowledge in Hebrew learning than I pretend to be miſtreſs of, and muſt take up more time than there is now to ſpare. I may hereafter however, if you ſhould chance to come again to our houſe, let you know my fancys upon theſe grand ſubjects, and why I cannot accord with Mr. Hutchinſon and my father, in their notion of the Cherubim's ſignifying the unity of the eſſence, the diſtinction of the Perſons, and man's being taken into the eſſence by his perſonal union with the ſecond perſon, whoſe conſtant emblem was the lyon. This I confeſs appears to my plain underſtanding very miſerable ſtuff. I can ſee no text either in the Old Teſtament, or in the New, for a plurality of Beings, co-ordinate and independent. The ſacred pages declare there is One original perfect mind. The Lord ſhall [68]be King over all the earth. In that day there ſhall be ONE LORD, and his name ONE; ſays the prophet Zechariah, ſpeaking of the prodigious revolution in the Gentile world, whence in proceſs of time, by the Goſpel of Jeſus Chriſt, the worſhip of One true God ſhall prevail all over the earth, as univerſally as Polytheiſm had done before. — This I dare not obſerve to my father, as he is an admirer of Mr. Hutchinſon, and will not bear any contradiction: but my private judgment is, that Mr. Hutchinſon on the Cherubim and Elohim or Eloim, is a mad commentator, as I may ſhow you, if we ever happen to meet again.

At preſent, all I can do more on the Hebrew ſubject, is to obſerve that, in reſpect of the preſervation of the Hebrew tongue, I imagine the one prevailing language before the miracle at Babel, (which one language was afterwards called Hebrew) tho' divided and ſwallowed as it were at the Tower, was kept without change in the line of Shem, and continued their tongue. This cannot be diſputed, I believe. I likewiſe imagine, it muſt be allowed, that this Hebrew continued the vernacular tongue of the old Canaanites. It is otherwiſe unaccountable how the Hebrew was found to be the language of the Canaanites, when the family of Abraham came among them again, after an abſence of more than 200 years. If they had [69]had another tongue at the confuſion, was it poſſible for Abraham, during his temporary ſojournments among them, and in the neceſſities of his peregrination, to perſuade ſo many tribes to quit their dialect, and learn his language;— or, if his influence had been ſo amazing, can it be ſuppoſed, they would not return again to their old language, after he had left them, and his family was away from them more than 200 years? No, Sir. We cannot juſtly ſuppoſe ſuch a thing. The language of the old Canaanites could not be a different one from the Hebrew. If you will look into Bochart (7) , you will find this was his opinion. That great man ſays the Ante-Babel language eſcaped the confuſion two ways, viz. by the Canaanites, through God's providence preſerving it in their colonies for the future uſe of the Hebrews, who [70]were to poſſeſs the land; and by the patriarch Heber, as a ſacred depoſitum for the uſe of his poſterity and of Abraham in particular.

This being the caſe: the Phenician or Canaanitiſh tongue, being the ſame language that the line of Heber ſpoke, with this only difference, that by the latter it was retained in greater purity, being in the mouths of a few, and tranſmitted by inſtruction; it follows, that Abraham and his ſons could talk with all theſe tribes and communities; and as to the other nations he had communication with, he might eaſily converſe with them, as he was a Syrian by birth, and to be ſure could talk the Aramitiſh dialect as well as Laban his brother. The Aramitiſh was the cuſtomary language of the line of Shem. It was their vulgar tongue. The language of the old world, that was ſpoken immediately before the confuſion, and was called Hebrew from Heber, they reſerved for ſacred uſes.

Here Miſs Noel ended, and my amazement was ſo great, and my paſſion had riſen ſo high for ſuch uncommon female intelligence, that I could not help ſnatching this beauty to my arms, and without thinking of what I did, impreſſed on her balmy mouth half a dozen kiſſes. This was wrong, and gave very great offence: but ſhe was too [71]good to be implacable, and on my begging her pardon, and proteſting it was not a wilful rudeneſs, but the magic of her glorious eyes, and the bright powers of her mind, that had tranſported me beſide my ſelf, ſhe was reconciled, and aſked me, if I would play a game of cards? With delight I replyed, and immediately a pack was brought in. We ſat down to cribbage, and had played a few games, when by accident Miſs Noel ſaw the head of my german flute, which I always brought out with me in my walks, and carried in a long pocket within ſide my coat. You play, Sir, I ſuppoſe, on that inſtrument, this lady ſaid, and as of all ſorts of muſick this pleaſes me moſt, I requeſt you will oblige me with any thing you pleaſe. In a moment I anſwered, and taking from my pocket book the following lines, I reached them to her, and told her I had the day before ſet them to one of Lulli's airs, and inſtantly began to breathe the ſofteſt harmony I could make —

A SONG.

I.
ALmighty love's reſiſtleſs rage,
No force can quell, no art aſſwage:
While wit and beauty both conſpire,
To kindle in my breaſt the fire:
[72]The matchleſs ſhape, the charming grace,
The eaſy air, and blooming face,
Each charm that does in Flavia ſhine,
To keep my captive heart combine.
II.
I feel, I feel the raging fire!
And my ſoul burns with fierce deſire!
Thy freedom, Reaſon, I diſown,
And beauty's pleaſing chains put on;
No art can ſet the captive free,
Who ſcorns his offer'd liberty;
Nor is confinement any pain,
To him who hugs his pleaſing chain.
III.
Bright Venus! Offspring of the ſea!
Thy ſovereign dictates I obey;
I own ſubmiſs thy mighty reign,
And feel thy power in every vein:
I feel thy influence all-confeſt,
I feel thee triumph in my breaſt!
'Tis there is fix'd thy ſacred court,
'Tis there thy Cupids gaily ſport.
IV.
Come, my Boy, the altar place,
Add the blooming garland's grace;
Gently pour the ſacred wine,
Hear me, Venus! Power divine!
[73]Grant the only boon I crave,
Hear me, Venus! Hear thy ſlave!
Bleſs my fond ſoul with beauty's charms,
And give me Flavia to my arms (8) .
(8).

As this ſong is a ſhort imitation of the 19th Ode of the firſt book of Horace, it is worth your while, Reader, to ſee how Mr. Francis has done the whole. I will here ſet down a few lines:

Urit me Glycerae nitor
Splendentis pario marmore purius:
Urit grata protervitas,
Et vultus nimium lubricus aſpici.

Which lines are imitated in the firſt verſe of the above ſong, and a part of the ſecond; and the ingenious Mr. Francis renders them in the following manner —

Again for Glycera I burn,
And all my long forgotten flames return.
As Parian marble pure and bright,
The ſhining maid my boſom warms;
Her face too dazling for the ſight,
Her ſweet coquetting — how it charms!
In me tota ruens Venus
Cyprum deſeruit —

Of which the third verſe of the ſong is an imitation: — Mr. Francis tranſlates in the following manner—

Whole Venus ruſhing through my veins,
No longer in her favourite Cyprus reigns.

[74] And —

Hic vivum mihi ceſpitem, hic
Verbenas, pueri, ponite thuraque
Bimi cum patera meri:
Mactatâ veniet laenior hoſtiâ:

Which lines are imitated in the fourth verſe of the ſong — Mr. Francis tranſlates as follows —

Here let the living altar riſe,
Adorn'd with every herb and flower;
Here flame the incenſe to the ſkies,
And pureſt wines libation pour;
Due honours to the Goddeſs paid,
Soft ſinks to willing love the yielding maid.

You ſee in this the difference between a tranſlation and an imitation.

[73]

Juſt as I was finiſhing this piece of muſick, old Mr. Noel came into the parlour, [74]in his wonted good humour, and ſeemed very greatly pleaſed with me and my inſtrument. He told me, I was the young man he wanted to be acquainted with, and that if it was no detriment to me, I ſhould not leave him this month to come. Come, Sir, (continued this fine old gentleman) let me hear another piece of your muſick — vocal or inſtrumental — as you will, for I ſuppoſe you ſing as well as you play. Both you ſhall have, Sir, (I replied), to the beſt of my abilities, and by way of change, I will give you firſt a ſong, called the Solitude.

[75]

A SONG called the Solitude.

I.
YE lofty mountains, whoſe eternal ſnows
Like Atlas ſeem to prop the diſtant ſkies;
While ſhelter'd by your high and ample brows
All nature's beauties feaſt my raviſh'd eyes:
And far beneath me o'er the diſtant plain
The thunders break, and ratling tempeſts reign.
II.
Here, when Aurora with her chearful beam
And roſy bluſhes marks approaching day;
Oft do I walk along the purling ſtream,
And ſee the bleating flocks around me ſtray:
The woods, the rocks, each charm that ſtrikes my ſight,
Fills my whole breaſt with innocent delight.
III.
Here gaily dancing on the flow'ry ground
The chearful ſhepherds join their flute and voice;
While thro' the groves the woodland ſongs reſound,
And fill th' untroubled mind with peaceful joys.
[76]Muſick and love inſpire the vocal plain,
Alone the turtle tunes her plaintive ſtrain.
IV.
Here the green turf invites my wearied head
On nature's lap, to undiſturb'd repoſe;
Here gently laid to reſt — each care is fled;
Peace and content my happy eye-lids cloſe.
Ye golden flattering dreams of ſtate adieu!
As bright my ſlumbers are, more ſoft than you.
V.
Here free from all the tempeſts of the Great,
Craft and ambition can deceive no more!
Beneath theſe ſhades I find a bleſt retreat,
From Envy's rage ſecure, and Fortune's pow'r:
Here call the actions of paſt ages o'er,
Or truth's immortal ſource alone explore.
VI.
Here far from all the buſy world's alarms,
I prove in peace the Muſe's ſacred leiſure:
No cares within, no diſtant ſound of arms,
Break my repoſe, or interrupt my pleaſure.
Fortune and Fame! Deceitful forms! Adieu!
The world's a trifle far beneath my view.

This ſong delighted the old gentleman to a great degree. He told me, he was charmed [77]with it, not only for the fine muſick I made of it, but the morality of it, and liked me ſo much, that I was moſt heartily welcome to make his ſolitary retreat my home, as often and as long as I pleaſed. And indeed I did ſo, and continued to behave in ſuch a manner, that in two months time, I gained ſo intirely his affections, and ſo totally the heart of his admirable daughter, that I might have her in wedlock when I pleaſed, after the expiration of that current year, which was the young lady's requeſt, and be ſecured of his eſtate at his death; beſide a large fortune to be immediately paid down; and this, tho' my father ſhould refuſe to ſettle any thing on me, or Miſs Noel, my wife. This was generous and charming as my heart could deſire. I thought my ſelf the happieſt of men. Every week I went to Eden-Park, one time or other, to ſee my dear Miſs Noel, and pay my reſpects to her worthy father. We were while I ſtayed a moſt happy family, and enjoyed ſuch ſatisfactions as few I believe have experienced in this tempeſtuous hemiſphere. Mr. Noel was paſſionately fond of his daughter, and he could not regard me more if I had been his own ſon. I loved my Harriot with a fondneſs beyond deſcription, and that glorious girl had all the eſteem I could wiſh ſhe had for me. Our mutual felicity could [78]riſe no higher till we gave our hands, as we had already plighted our hearts.

This world is a ſeries of viſionary ſcenes, and contains ſo little ſolid, laſting felicity, as I have found it, that I cannot call life more than a deception; and, as Swift ſays it, he is the happieſt man, who is beſt deceived. When I thought myſelf within a fortnight of being married to Miſs Noel, and thereby made as compleatly happy in every reſpect as it was poſſible for a mortal man to be, the ſmall pox ſteps in, and in ſeven days time, reduced the fineſt human frame in the univerſe to the moſt hideous and offenſive block. The moſt amiable of human creatures mortifyed all over, and became a ſpectacle the moſt hideous and unbearable.—This broke her father's heart in a month's time, and the paradice I had in view, ſunk into everlaſting night.

Miſs Noel's character. My heart, upon this ſad accident, bled and mourned to an extreme degree. All the tender paſſions were up in my ſoul, and with great difficulty could I keep my ruffled ſpirits in tolerable decorum. I loſt what I valued more than my life — more than repeated millions of worlds, if it had been poſſible to get them in exchange. This engaged, beloved partner, was an honour to her ſex, and an ornament to human kind. She was one of the wiſeſt and moſt agreeable of women; [79]and her life quite glorious for piety to God, compaſſion to the neceſſitous and miſerable, benevolence and good will to all, with every other grace and virtue. Theſe ſhined with a bright luſtre in her whole deportment, and rendered her beloved, and the delight of all that knew her. Senſe and genius were in her united, and by ſtudy, reflexion, and application, ſhe improved the talents, in the happieſt manner. She had acquired a ſuperiority in thinking, ſpeaking, writing, and acting, and in manners, her behaviour, her language, her deſign, her underſtanding, was inexpreſſibly charming. Miſs Noel died in the 24th year of her age, the 29th of December, in the year 1724.

A reflexion on the death of Miſs Noel. This diſmal occurrence ſat powerfully on my ſpirits for ſome time, and for near two months, I ſcarcely ſpoke a word to any one. I was ſilent, but not ſullen. As my tears and lamentations could not ſave her, ſo I knew they could not fetch her back again. Death and the grave have neither eyes nor ears. The thing to be done upon ſo melancholly an occaſion, is to adore the Lord of infinite wiſdom, as he has a right to ſtrike our comforts dead, and ſo improve the awful event, by labouring to render our whole temper and deportment chriſtian and divine, that we may able to live, while we do live, ſuperior to the ſtrokes of fortune, and the [80]calamities of human life; and when God bids us die, (in whatever manner, and at whatever time it may be) have nothing to do but to die, and ſo go enter into our maſter's joy. This is wiſdom. This good we may extract from ſuch doleful things. This was the effect my dear Miſs Noel's death had on me, and when I ſaw myſelf deprived of ſo invaluable a thing in this world, I determined to double my diligence in ſo acting my part in it, that whenever I was to paſs through the laſt extremity of nature, I might be diſmiſſed with a bleſſing to another world, and by virtue of the ſublime excellencies of our holy religion, proceed to the abodes of immortality and immutable felicity.

I wiſh I could perſuade you, reader, to reſolve in the ſame manner. If you are young, and have not yet experienced life, believe me, all is vanity, diſappointment, wearineſs, and diſſatisfaction, and in the midſt of troubles and uncertainties, we are haſtening on to an unknown world, from whence we ſhall never return again. Whether our diſſolution be near, we know not; but this is certain, that death, that univerſal conqueror, is making after us apace, to ſeize us as his captives; and therefore, tho' a man live many years, and rejoice in them all, (which is the caſe of very few), yet let him remember the days of darkneſs.

[81]And when death does come, our lot may be the moſt racking pains and diſtempers, to faſten us down to our ſick-beds, till we reſign our ſpirits to ſome ſtrange region, our breath to the common air, and our bodies to the duſt from whence they were taken. Diſmal ſituation! If in the days of our health, we did not make our happineſs and moral worth correſpond — did not labour, in the time of our ſtrength, to eſcape from wrong opinion and bad habit, and to render our minds ſincere and incorrupt; if we did not worſhip and love the ſupreme mind, and adore his divine adminiſtration, and all the ſecrets of his providence. If this was not our caſe, before corruption begins to lay hold of us, deplorable muſt we be, when torments come upon us, and we have only hopeleſs wiſhes that we had been wiſer, as we deſcend in agonies to our ſolitary retreat; to proceed from thence to judgment. Language cannot paint the horrors of ſuch a condition. The anguiſh of mind, and the torture of body, are a ſcene of miſery beyond deſcription.

Or if without torment, we lie down in ſilence, and ſink into the land of forgetfulneſs, yet, ſince the Lord Jeſus is to raiſe us from the regions of darkneſs, and bring us to the ſeſſions of righteouſneſs, where all our actions are to be ſtrictly tried and examined, and every one ſhall be judged according to [82]the deeds done in the body, whether they have been good or evil; what can ſcreen us from the wrath of that mighty power, which is to break off the ſtrong fetters of death, and to throw open the iron gates of the grave, if injuſtice, cruelty, and oppreſſion, have been our practice in this world; or if, in the neglect of the diſtreſſed and hungry, we have given up ourſelves to chambering and wantonneſs, to gluttony and volutuouſneſs? It is virtue and obedience, acts of goodneſs and mercy, that only can deliver us. If we worſhip in ſpirit and in truth the moſt glorious of immortal Beings, that God who is omnipotent in wiſdom and action, and perform all the offices of love and friendſhip to every man, then our Lord will pronounce us the bleſſed of his Father. If we do evil, we ſhall come forth unto the reſurrection of damnation. — This merits your attention, reader, and I hope you will immediately begin to ponder, what it is to have a place aſſigned in inconceivable happineſs or miſery for ever.

14. Left the Univerſity, and went down to ſee my father in the country, and had a very miſerable reception.

Having thus loſt Miſs Noel, and my good old friend, her worthy father, I left the univerſity, and went down to the country, after five years and three months abſence, to ſee how things were poſited at home, and pay my reſpects to my father; but I found them very little to my liking, and in a ſhort time, returned to Dublin again. He [83]had lately married in his old age a young wife, who was one of the moſt artful, falſe, and inſolent of women, and to gratify her to the utmoſt of his power, had not only brought her nephew into his houſe, but was ridiculouſly fond of him, and laviſhly gratifyed all his deſires. Whatever this little brute (the ſon of a drunken beggar, who had been a journey-man glover) was pleaſed, in wantonneſs, to call for, and that his years, then ſixteen, could require, my father's fortune in an inſtant produced; while ſcarcely one of my rational demands could be anſwered. Money, cloaths, ſervants, horſes, dogs, and all things he could fanſy, were given him in abundance; and to pleaſe the baſeſt of women, and the moſt cruel ſtep-mother that ever the Devil inſpired to make the ſon of another woman miſerable, I was denied almoſt every thing. The fine allowance I had at the Univerſity was taken from me. Even a horſe to ride out to the neighbouring gentlemen, was refuſed me, tho' my father had three ſtables of extraordinary cattle; and till I purchaſed one, was forced to walk it, where-ever I had a mind to viſit. What is ſtill more incredible (if any thing of ſeverity can be ſo, when a mother-in-law is ſovereign) I was not allowed to keep my horſe even at graſs on the land, tho' five hundred acres of freehold [84]eſtate ſurrounded the manſion, but obliged to graze it at a neighbouring farmer's. Nor was this all the hard meaſure I received. I was ordered by my father to become the young man's preceptor; to ſpend my precious time in teaching this youngſter, and in labouring to make the little deſpicable dunce a ſcholar. All this was more than I could bear. My life became inſupportable, and I reſolved to range even the wilds of Africa, if nothing better offered, rather than live a miſerable ſlave under the cruel tyranny of thoſe unrelenting oppreſſors.

My father however, by the way, was as fine a gentleman as ever lived, a man of extraordinary underſtanding, and a ſcholar; likewiſe remarkably juſt and good to all the world, except my ſelf, after I left the Univerſity: and to do him all the juſtice in my power, and vindicate him ſo far as I am able, I muſt not conceal, that great as the aſcendant was, which my mother-in-law had over him, and as much as he was henpecked by that low woman, who had been his ſervant maid, yet it was not to her only that my ſufferings were owing. Religion had a hand in my miſery. Falſe religion was the ſpring of that paternal reſentment I ſuffered under.

15. A religious diſpute with my Father.

It was my father's wont to have prayers read every night and morning in his [85]family, and the office was the litany of the common-prayer book. This work, on my coming home, was transferred from my ſiſter to me, and for about one week I performed to the old gentleman's ſatisfaction, as my voice was good, and my reading diſtinct and clear: but this office was far from being grateful to me, as I was become a ſtrict Unitarian, by the leſſons I had received from my private tutor in college, and my own examinations of the vulgar faith. It went againſt my conſcience to uſe the tritheiſtic form of prayer, and became at laſt ſo uneaſy to me, that I altered the prayers the firſt Sunday morning, and made them more agreeable to ſcripture as I conceived. My father at this was very highly enraged, and his paſſion aroſe to ſo great a height, upon my defending my confeſſion, and refuſing to read the eſtabliſhed form, that he called me the moſt impious and execrable of wretches, and with violence drove me from his preſence. Soon after however he ſent me Lord Nottingham's Letter to Mr. Whiſton, and deſired I would come to him when I had carefully read it over. I did ſo, and he aſked me what I thought of the book. I anſwered, that I thought it a weak piece, and if he would hear me with patience, in relation to that in particular, and to the caſe in general, perhaps he might think my religion [86]a little better than at preſent he ſuppoſed it to be. I will hear you, he ſaid: proceed. — Then I immediately began, and for a full hour repeated an apology I had prepared (9) . He did not interrupt me once, and when I had done, all he replyed was, I ſee you are to be placed among the incurables. Be gone, he ſaid, with ſtern diſdain; and I reſolved to obey. Indeed it was impoſſible for me to ſtay for my father took no farther notice of me, and my mother-in-law and the boy, did all they could invent to render my life miſerable.

15. May 1, 1725. I left my father's houſe.

On the firſt day of May then, early in the morning, as the clock ſtruck one, I mounted my excellent mare, and with my boy, O'Fin, began to journey as [87]I had projected, on ſeeing how things went. I did not communicate my deſign to a ſoul, nor take my leave of any one, but in the true ſpirit of adventure, abandoned my father's dwelling, and ſet out to try what fortune would produce in my favor. I had the world before me, and Providence my guide. As to my ſubſtance, it conſiſted of a purſe of gold, that contained fifty Spaniſh piſtoles, and half a ſcore moidores; and I had one bank note for five hundred pounds, which my dear Miſs Noel left me by her will, the morning ſhe ſickened; and it was all ſhe had of her own to leave to any one. With this I ſet forward, and in five days time arrived from the Weſtern extremity of Ireland at a village called Rings-end, that lies on the Bay of Dublin. Three days I reſted there, and at the Conniving-Houſe (10) , and then got my horſes on board a ſhip that was ready to ſail, and [88]bound for the land I was born in, I mean Old England.

16. My departure from Rings end, and what happened at ſea.

The wind, in the afternoon, ſeemed good and fair, and we were in hopes of getting to Cheſter the next day: but at midnight, a tempeſt aroſe, which held in all the horrors of hurricane, thunder and lightning, for two nights and a day, and left us no hope of eſcape. It was a dreadful ſcene indeed, and looked as if the laſt fatal aſſault was making on the globe. As we had many paſſengers, their cries were terrible, and affected me more than the flaſhing fires and the winds. For my part, I was well reconciled to the great change, but I confeſs that nature ſhrunk at the frightful manner of my going off, which I expected every moment the ſecond night. At laſt however, we got into Whitehaven. It pleaſed the great King of all the earth to bid the ſtorm, Have done.

Four remarkable things I noticed while the tempeſt laſted.

The caſe of Dean Whaley.
One was, that the Dean [89]of Derry, Dr. Whaley, whom we had on board, (who had nineteen hundred a year from the church, for teaching the people to be Chriſtians) was vaſtly more afraid than one young lady of the company, who appeared quite ſerene. The Dean, tho' a fine Orator at land, was ridiculous in his fears at ſea. He ſcreamed as loud as any of the people: But this young lady behaved, like an angel in a ſtorm. She was calm and reſigned, and ſat with the mate and me, the ſecond night, diſcourſing of the divine power, and the laws of nature, in ſuch uproars. By the way, neither mate, nor maſter, nor hand, could keep the deck. The ſhip was left to the mercy of the winds and waves.
The Caſe of Miſs Melnoth.
The ſecond remarkable thing is, that as this young lady went into naked bed in her cabbin, the firſt night, before the tempeſt began to ſtir, it was not many hours till a ſea ſtruck us upon the quarter, and drove in one of our quarter, and one of our ſtern dead lights, where we ſhipped great quantities of water, that put us under great apprehenſions of foundering, and filled ſo ſuddenly the cloſe wooden bed in which Miſs Melmoth lay, that had not I chanced to be then leaning againſt the partition, and ſnatched her out, the moment I found my ſelf all over wet, and half covered with the breaking ſea, ſhe muſt inevitably have periſhed. I ran up on deck [90]with her in my arms, and laid her almoſt ſenſeleſs and naked there: and as there was no ſtaying many minutes in that place, I threw my great coat over her, and then brought her down to my own birth, which I gave her, and got her dry cloaths from her trunk, and made her drink a large glaſs of brandy, which ſaved her life. She got no cold, which I thought very ſtrange, but was hurt a little in the remove. When all was over, ſhe proteſted ſhe would never go into naked bed, on board ſhip, again.
The caſe of ſome officers in the ſtorm.
The third particular is, that there were ſome officers on board, moſt monſtrouſly wicked men, and when we were given over by the captain, and no hope he thought of being ſaved, theſe warriors lamented like young children, and were the moſt diſmal, diſturbing howlers on board: yet, when we got on land, they had done with O Lord, O Lord, and began again their obſcene talk, and to damn themſelves at every word to the center of hell.
The caſes of Gavan and Henley.
The fourth thing was this. There was on board with us a young gentleman of my acquaintance, one Pierce Gavan, who had been a fellow-commoner in my time of Trinity, Dublin. The firſt day of the ſtorm, he was carried over-board by a rolling ſea, and fairly lodged in the ocean, at above twenty yards diſtance from the ſhip; but the next tumbling [91]billow brought him back again. He was laid on the deck without any hurt. On the contrary, one Charles Henley, a young merchant, was beat over, and we never ſaw him more.

Henley's character. Henley was not only a man of ſenſe and prudence, who had an honeſt mind, and a cultivated underſtanding, but by ſearch and enquiries into the doctrines, inſtitutions and motives of reveled religion, had the higheſt regard for the truths of genuine Chriſtianity, and choſe the beſt means in his power to make himſelf acceptable to God.

Gavan's character. Gavan, on the contrary, had no ſenſe of religion, nor did he ever think of the power and goodneſs of God. He was a moſt prophane ſwearer, drank exceſſively, and had the heart to debauch every pretty woman he ſaw, if it had been poſſible for him to do ſo much miſchief. — Yet this man, who never reformed that I heard, and whoſe impieties have ſhocked even young fellows who were no ſaints, was aſtoniſhingly preſerved; and Henley, who had the juſteſt natural notions, and liſtened to Revelation, periſhed miſerably? How ſhall we account for ſuch things? By ſaying, that the world that now is, and the world that is to come, are in the hands of God, and every tranſaction in them is quite right, tho' the reaſon of the procedure may be beyond our view. We cannot judge certainly of the ends and purpoſes of Providence, [92]and therefore to paſs judgment on the ways of God, is not only impious, but ridiculous to the laſt degree. This we know for certain, that whenever, or however, a good man falls, he falls into the hand of God, and ſince we muſt all die, the difference as to time and manner, ſignifies very little, when there is an infinite wiſdom to diſtinguiſh every caſe, and an infinite goodneſs to compenſate all our miſeries. This is enough for a Chriſtian. Happy is the man, and for ever ſafe, let what will happen, who acts a rational part, and has the fear and love of God in his thoughts. With pleaſure he looks into all the ſcenes of futurity. When ſtorms and earthquakes threaten calamity, diſtreſs, and death, he maintains an inward peace.

17. The paſſengers land, and divide into ſeveral companies, May 10, 1725.

When we had obtained the wiſhed for ſhore, the paſſengers all divided. The Dean and his lady, and ſome other ladies, went one way, to an inn recommended to them by a gentleman on board; the warriors and Gavan marched to another houſe; and the young lady, whoſe life was by me preſerved, and I, went to the Talbot, which the mate informed me had the beſt things and lodging, tho' the ſmalleſt inn of the town. This mate, Mr. Whitwell, deſerves to be particularly mentioned, as he was remarkable for good breeding, good ſenſe, and a [93]conſiderable ſhare of learning, tho' a ſailor; as remarkable this way, as the captain of the ſhip was the other way, that is, for being the rougheſt and moſt brutal old tar that ever commanded a veſſel.

18. The ſtory of Whitwell, the mate of the Skinner and Jenkins.

Whitwell the mate, about thirty-ſix years of age at this time, told me, he was the ſon of a man who once had a great fortune, and gave him a univerſity education, but left an eſtate ſo encumbered with debts, and ruined with mortgages, that its income was almoſt nothing, and therefore the ſon ſold the remains of it, and went to ſea with an Eaſt-India captain, in the 22d year of his age, and was ſo fortunate abroad, that he not only acquired riches, in four years time that he trafficked about, between Batavia and the Gulph of Perſia, but married a young Indian Lady, (the daughter of a Rajah, or petty Prince in the Mogul Empire) who was rich, wiſe, and beautiful, and made his life ſo very happy, for three years that ſhe lived, that his ſtate was a mere Paradiſe, and he ſeemed a little ſovereign. But this fleeting ſcene was ſoon over, and on his return to England with all his wealth, their ſhip was taken by the pirates of Madagaſcar, who robbed him of all he had, and made him a miſerable ſlave for two years and upwards. That he eſcaped from them to the tawny generation of Arabs, who lived on [94]the mountains, the other ſide of this African iſland, and uſed him with great humanity; their chief being very fond of him, and entertaining him in his mud-wall palace: he married there a pretty little yellow creature, niece to the poor ruler, and for twelve months was very far from being miſerable with this partner, as they had a handſome cottage and ſome cattle, and this wife was good-humour itſelf, very ſenſible, and a religious woman; her religion being half Mahometaniſm and half Judaiſm. But ſhe died at the years end, and her uncle, the Chief, not living a month after her, Whitwell came down from the mountains to the next ſea coaſt under the conduct of one of the Arabians, his friend, and meeting with a European ſhip there, got at laſt to London. A little money he had left behind him in England, by way of reſerve, in caſe of accidents, if he ever ſhould return to his own country, and with this he dreſt himſelf, got into buſineſs, and came at laſt to be mate of the Skinner and Jenkins. His deſtiny, he added, was untoward, but as he had thought, and read, and ſeen enough in his wide travels, to be convinced, the world, and every being, and every atom of it, were directed and governed by unerring wiſdom, he derived hopes and comforts from a due acknowledgment of God. There are more [95]born to miſery than to happineſs, in this life: but all may die to be for ever glorious and bleſſed, if they pleaſe. — This concluſion was juſt and beautiful, and a life and ſentiments ſo uncommon I thought deſerved a memorial.

19. An uncommon ſcene of life.

Miſs Melmoth and I continued at the Talbot for three weeks, and during that time, breakfaſted, dined, and ſupped together. Except the hours of ſleep, we were rarely from each other. We walked out together every day, for hours converſed, ſometimes went to cards, and often ſhe ſung, delightfully ſung, while on my flute I played. With the greateſt civility, and the moſt exact good manners, we were as intimate as if we had been acquainted for ages, and we found a ſatisfaction in each others company, as great as lovers generally experience: yet ſo much as one ſyllable of the paſſion was no mentioned: not the leaſt hint of love on either ſide was given, while we ſtayed at Whitehaven; and I believe, neither of us had a thought of it. It was a friendſhip the moſt pure and exalted, that commenced at my ſaving her life, in the manner I have related, and by ſome ſtrange kind of magic, our notions and inclinations, tempers and ſentiments, had acquired ſuch a ſameneſs in a few days, that we ſeemed as two ſpiritual Socias, or duplicates of each others mind. [96] Body was quite out of the caſe, tho' this lady had an extravagance of beauty. My ſole delight was that fine percepient, which ſhed a luſtre on her outward charms. How long this ſtate would have laſted, had we continued more time together, and had the image of the late Miſs Noel been more effaced, or worn out of the ſenſory of my head, I cannot ſay; but while it did laſt, there could be nothing more ſtrange. To ſee two young people of different ſexes, in the higheſt ſpirits and moſt confirmed health, live together for twenty-one days, perfectly pleaſed with each other, intirely at their own diſpoſal, and as to fortune, having abundantly enough between them both for a comfortable life; and yet, never utter one word, nor give a look, that could be conſtrued a declaration of the paſſion, or a tendency towards a more intimate union; — to compleat that connexion which nature and providence requires of beings circumſtanced as we were; — this was very odd. Till the clock ſtruck twelve every night we ſat up, and talked of a vaſt variety of things, from the Bible down to the clouds of Ariſtophanes, and from the comedies and tragedies of Greece and Rome to the Minerva of Sanctius, and Hickes's northern Theſaurus. Inſtead of Venus or any of her court, our converſation would often be on the morals of Cicero, his academicks, [97]and de finibus; on the Engliſh or the Roman hiſtory; Shakeſpear's ſcenes of nature, or maps of life; whether the OEdipus or the Electra of Sophocles was the beſt tragedy; and the ſcenes in which Plautus and Terence moſt excelled. Like two criticks, or two grammarians, antiquarians, hiſtorians, or philoſophers, would we paſs the evening with the greateſt chearfulneſs and delight.

Miſs Melmoth's character. Miſs Melmoth had a memory aſtoniſhing, and talked on every ſubject extremely well. She remembred all ſhe had read. Her judgment was ſtrong, and her reflections ever good. She told me her mother was another Mrs. Dacier, and as her father was killed in a duel, when ſhe was very young, the widow Melmoth, inſtead of going into the world, continued to live at her country ſeat, and diverted herſelf with teaching her daughter the languages of Greece and Rome, and in educating her heart and mind. This made this young lady a maſter of the Latin tongue and Greek, and enable her to acquire a knowledge ſo various and fine, that it was ſurprizing to hear her expatiate and explain. She talked with ſo much eaſe and good humour, and had a manner ſo chearful and polite, that her diſcourſe was always entertaining, even tho' the ſubject happened to be, as it was one evening, the paulo [98]paulo poſt futurum of a Greek verb. Theſe things however were not the only admirable ones in this character. So happily had her good mother formed and inſtructed her mind, that it appeared full of all the principles of rational honour, and devoted to that truly God-like religion, which exalts the ſoul to an affection rather than dread of the ſupreme Lord of all things, and to a conviction that his laws lead us both to happineſs here and hereafter. She thorowly underſtood the uſe and excellence of Revelation, and had extracted from the inſpired volumes everlaſting comfort and ſecurity under the apprehenſions of the divine Power and Majeſty: but ſhe told me, ſhe could not think rites and outward performances were eſſential to real religion. She conſidered what was juſt and beautiful in theſe things as uſeful and aſſiſting only to the devout mind.—In a word, this young lady was wiſe and good, humble and charitable. I have ſeen but one of her ſex ſuperior to her, in the powers of mind, and the beauties of body: that was Miſs Noel. Very few have I know that were equal.

20. Miſs Melmoth and part, June 2, 1725.

The 2d day of June Miſs Melmoth and I left Whitehaven, and proceeded from thence to Weſtmoreland. We travelled for five days together, till we came to Brugh under Stainmore, where we ſtayed a night at [99] Lamb's, (a houſe I recommend to the reader, if ever he goes that way), and the next morning we parted. Miſs Melmoth and her ſervants went right onwards to Yorkſhire, and I turned to the left, to look for one Mr. Charles Turner, who had been my near friend in the Univerſity, and lived in ſome part of the north-eaſt extremity of Weſtmoreland, or Yorkſhire. But before we ſeparated on the edge of Stainmore, we ſtopped at the Bell to breakfaſt, which is a little lone houſe on a deſcent to a vaſt romantic glin, and all the public houſe there is in this wild, ſilent road till you come to Jack Railton, the Quaker's houſe at Bows. We had a pot of coffee and toaſt and butter for breakfaſt, and as uſual we were very chearful over it; but when we had done, and it was time to depart, a melancholy, like a black and diſmal cloud, began to overſpread the charming face of Charlotte, and after ſome ſilence, the tears burſt from her eyes. What is the matter, Miſs Melmoth, I ſaid — what makes this amazing change? I will tell you, Sir, this beauty replyed. To you I owe my life, and for three weeks paſt have lived with you in ſo very happy a way, that the end of ſuch a ſcene, and the probability of my never ſeeing you L ore, is too much for me. Miſs Melmoth, (I anſwered) you do me more honor than I deſerve in ſhedding tears for [100]me, and ſince you can think me worth ſeeing again, I promiſe you upon my ſacred word, that as ſoon as I have found a beloved friend of mine I am going up the hills to look for, and have paid my reſpects to him for a while, if he is to be found in this deſolate part of the world, I will travel with my face in the next place, if it be poſſible, towards the eaſt-riding of Yorkſhire, and be at Mrs. Aſgil's door, where you ſay you are to be found. This reſtored the glories to Charlotte's face again, and for the firſt time, I gave Miſs Melmoth a kiſs, and bid her adieu.

21. A journey among the hills, in that part of Stainmore, which belongs to Weſtmorland. 1725, June 8.

Having thus loſt my charming companion, I travelled into a vaſt valley, encloſed by mountains whoſe tops were above the clouds, and ſoon came into a country that is wilder than the Campagna of Rome, or the uncultivated vales of the Alps and Apennines. Warm with a claſſical enthuſiaſm, I journeyed on, and with fancy's eye beheld the rural divinities, in thoſe ſacred woods and groves, which ſhade the ſides of many of the vaſt ſurrounding fells, and the ſhores and promontories of many lovely lakes and bright running ſtreams. For ſeveral hours I travelled over mountains tremendous to behold, and through vales the fineſt in the world. Not a man or houſe could I ſee in eight hours time, but towards five in the afternoon, there appeared at the foot of [101]a hill a ſweetly ſituated cottage, that was half covered with trees, and ſtood by the ſide of a large falling ſtream: a vale extended to the ſouth from the door, that was terminated with rocks, and precipices on precipices, in an amazing point of view, and through the flowery ground, the water was beautifully ſeen, as it winded to a deeper flood at the bottom of the vale. Half a dozen cows were grazing in view: and a few flocks of feeding ſheep added to the beauties of the ſcene.

To this houſe I ſent my boy, to enquire who lived there, and to know, if for the night I could be entertained, as I knew not where elſe to go. O' Fin very quickly returned, and informed me, that one farmer Price was the owner of the place, but had gone in the morning to the next town, and that his wife ſaid, I was welcome to what her houſe afforded. In then I went, and was moſt civilly received by an exceeding pretty woman, who told me her huſband would ſoon be at home, and be glad ſhe was ſure to ſee me at their lone place; for he was no ſtranger to gentlemen and the world, tho' at preſent he rarely converſed with any one. She told me, their own ſupper would be ready an hour hence, and in mean time would have me take a can of fine ale and a bit of bread. She brought me a cup [102]of extraordinary mault-drink and a cruſt, and while I was eating my bread, in came Mr. Price.

22. A ſurprizing meeting

The man ſeemed very greatly aſtoniſhed at entering the room, and after he had looked with great earneſtneſs at me for a little while, he cryed out, Good Heaven! What do I ſee! Falſtaff, my claſs-fellow, and my ſecond ſelf. My dear friend you are welcome, thrice welcome to this part of the world. All this ſurprized me not a little, for I could not recollect at once a face that had been greatly altered by the ſmall-pox: And it was not till I reflected on the name Price that I knew I was then in the houſe of one of my ſchool-fellows, with whom I had been moſt intimate, and had played the part of Plump Jack in Henry the fourth, when he did Prince Henry. This was an unexpected meeting indeed: and conſidering the place, and all the circumſtances belonging to the ſcene, a thing more ſtrange and affecting never came in my way. Our pleaſure at this meeting was very great, and when the moſt affectionate ſalutations were over, my friend Price proceeded in the following manner.

Often have I remembered you ſince we parted, and excluſive of the Greek and Engliſh plays we have acted together at Sheridan's ſchool, in which you acquired no [103]ſmall applauſe, I have frequently thought of our frolickſome rambles in vacation time, and the merry dancings we had at Mother Red-Cap's in Back-Lane; the hurling matches we have played at Dolphin's-Barn, and the cakes and ale we uſed to have at the Organ-houſe on Arbor-Hill. Theſe things have often occurred to my mind: but little did I think we ſhould ever meet again on Stainmore-hills. What ſtrange things does time produce! It has taken me from a town life to live on the moſt ſolitary part of the globe:— And it has brought you to journey where never man I believe ever thought of travelling before. So it is, (I replyed), and ſtranger things, dear Jack, may happen yet before our eyes are cloſed: why I journey this untravelled way, I will inform you by and by; when you have told me by what ſtrange means you came to dwell in this remote and ſilent vale. That you ſhall know, (Mr. Price ſaid) very ſoon, as ſoon as we have eaten a morſel of ſomething or other which my dear Martha has prepared againſt my return. Here it comes, a fowl, bacon and greens, and as fine I will anſwer as London market could yield. Let us ſit down, my friend, and God bleſs us and our meat.

Down then we ſat immediatly to our diſh, and moſt excellent every thing was. [104]The ſocial goodneſs of this fond couple added greatly to the pleaſure of the meal, and with mirth and friendſhip we eat up our capon, our bacon, and our greens. When we had done, Price brought in pipes and tobacco, and a freſh tankard of his admirable ale. Liſten now (he ſaid) to my ſtory, and then I will hearken to yours.

23. The ſtory of Jack Price.

When I left you at Sheridan's ſchool, my remove was from Ireland to Barbadoes, to become a rich uncle's heir, and I got by my Indian airing a hundred thouſand pounds. There I left the bones of my mother's brother, after I had lived two years in that burning place, and from thence proceeded to London, to ſpend what an honeſt, laborious man had long toiled to ſave. But I had not been above three months in the capital of England, when it came into my head to paſs ſome time in France, and with a girl I kept made haſt to the French metropolis. There I lived at a grand rate, and took from the French Opera-houſe another where. The Gaul and the Briton were both extreme fine girls, and agreed ſo well together, that I kept them both in one houſe. I thought my ſelf ſuperlatively happy in having ſuch a brace of females, and ſpared no coſt in procuring them all the finery and pleaſures that Paris and London could yield. I had a furniſhed houſe in both theſe cities, [105]and with an expenſive equipage went backwards and forwards. In four years time I ſpent a great deal of money, and as I had loſt large ſums at play, and theſe two whores agreed in the end to rob me, and retire with the money, where I ſhould never diſcover them, I found my ſelf in very midling circumſtances, and had not ſix hundred pounds left in the fourth year from my uncle's death. How to diſpoſe of this and my ſelf was now the queſtion. What ſhall I do, (was my deliberation) to ſecure bread and quiet? Many a thoughtful hour this gave me, and at length I determined to purchaſe a little annuity. But before this could be effected, I went down to Weſtmoreland, on an information I had received, that my two ladies were at Appleby with other names, and on my money appeared as women of fortune. But this journey was to no purpoſe, and I was preparing to return to London, when my wife you ſaw at the head of the table a while ago, came by chance in my way, and pleaſed me ſo well with her good underſtanding, face and perſon, that I reſolved to marry her, if ſhe would have me, and give her the management of my five hundred pounds on a farm, as ſhe was a farmer's daughter, and could manage one to good advantage. Her father was [106]lately dead, and this little mountain farm ſhe continued to occupy: therefore nothing could be more to my purpoſe, if I could prevail on her to make me her huſband, and with ſome difficulty ſhe did, to my unſpeakable felicity. She had no money worth mentioning: but her houſe was pretty and comfortable, and her land had grain and cattle; and as I threw into her lap my five hundred pounds, a little before we were married, to be by her diſpoſed of and managed, according to her pleaſure, ſhe ſoon made ſome good improvements and additions, and by her fine underſtanding, ſweet temper, and every Chriſtian virtue, continues to render my life ſo compleatly happy; ſo joyous and delightful; that I would not change my partner and condition, for one of the firſt quality and greateſt fortune. In her I have every thing I could wiſh for in a wife and a woman, and ſhe makes it the ſole ſtudy and pleaſure of her life to crown my every day with the higheſt ſatisfactions and comforts. Two years have I lived with her on theſe wild mountains, and in that time I have not had one dull or painful minute, but in thinking that I may loſe her, and be the wretched ſurvivor. That thought does ſometimes wound me. — In ſum, my friend, we are the happieſt of wedded mortals, and on this ſmall, remote farm, live [107]in a ſtate of bliſs to be envyed. This proves that happineſs does not flow from riches only: but that, where pure and perfect love, ſtrict virtue, and unceaſing induſtry, are united in the conjugal ſtate, they can make the Stainmore mountains a Paradice to mortals, in peace and little.

But it is not only happineſs in this world that I have acquired by this admirable woman, but life eternal. You remember, my friend, what a wild and wicked one I was when a ſchool-boy, and as Barbadoes of all parts of the globe is no place to improve a man's morals in, I returned from thence to Europe as debauched a ſcelerate as ever offended Heaven by blaſphemy and illegal gratifications. Even my loſſes and approaching poverty were not capable of making any great change in me. When I was courting my wife, ſhe ſoon diſcerned my impiety, and perceived that I had very little notion of hell and heaven, death and judgment. This ſhe made a principal objection againſt being concerned with me, and told me, ſhe could not venture into a married connexion with a man, who had no regard to the divine laws, and therefore, if ſhe could not make me a Chriſtian, in the true ſenſe of the word, ſhe would never be Mrs. Price.

[108]This from a plain, country girl, ſurprized me not a little, and my aſtoniſhment aroſe very high, when I heard her talk of religion, and the great end of both, a bleſſed life after this. She ſoon convinced me, that religion was the only means by which we can arrive at true happineſs, by which we can attain to the laſt perfection and dignity of our nature, and that the authority and word of God is the ſureſt foundation of religion. The ſubſtance of what ſhe ſaid is as follows. I ſhall never forget the leſſon.

The plain declarations of our Maſter in the Goſpel reſtore the dictates of uncorrupted reaſon to their force and authority, and give us juſt notions of God and of our ſelves. They inſtruct us in the nature of the Deity, diſcover to us his unity, holineſs, and purity, and afford certain means of obtaining eternal life. Revelation commands us to worſhip One Supreme God, the Supreme Father of all things; and to do his will, by imitating his perfections, and practiſing every thing recommended by that Law of Reaſon, which he ſent the Meſſiah to revive and enforce: that by repentance, and righteouſneſs, and acts of devotion, we may obtain the Divine favor, and ſhare in the glories of futurity: for, the Supreme Director, whoſe goodneſs gives counſel to his power, commanded us into exiſtence to conduct us to everlaſting happineſs, and therefore, teaches us by his [109]Son to pray, to praiſe, and to repent, that we may be entitled to a nobler inheritance than this world knows, and obtain life and immortality, and all the joys and bleſſings of the heavenly Canaan. This was the godlike deſign of our Creator. That ſuperior Agent, who acts not by arbitrary will, but by the maxims of unclouded reaſon, when he made us, and ſtationed us in this part of his creation, had no glory of his own in view, but what was perfectly conſiſtent with a juſt regard to the felicity of his rational ſubjects.

It was this made the Apoſtle ſhew Felix the unalterable obligations to juſtice and equity; to temperance, or, a command over the appetites; and then, by diſplaying the great and awful judgment to come, urge him to the practice of theſe, and all the other branches of morality; that by uſing the means preſcribed by God, and acting up to the conditions of ſalvation, he might eſcape that dreadful puniſhment, which, in the reaſon and nature of things, is connected with vice, and which the good government of the rational world requires ſhould be inflicted on the wicked; and might, on the contrary, by that mercy offered to the world thro' Jeſus Chriſt, ſecure thoſe immenſe rewards, which are promiſed to innocence and the teſtimony of an upright heart. This faith [110]in Chriſt St. Paul placed before the Roman governor in the beſt light. He deſcribed the complexion and genius of the Chriſtian faith. He repreſented it as reveling the wrath of God againſt all immorality; and as joining with reaſon and uncorrupted nature, enforcing the practice of every moral and ſocial duty.

What effect this diſcourſe had on Felix (Martha continued) in producing faith, that is, morality in an intelligent agent, we are told by the Apoſtle. He trembled: but iniquity and the world had taken ſuch a hold of him, that he diſmiſſed the ſubject, and turned from a preſent uneaſineſs to profit and the enjoyment of ſin. He had done with St. Paul, and ſacrificed the hopes of eternity to the world and its delights.

But this (concluded Martha) will not I hope be your caſe. As a judgment to come is an awful ſubject, you will ponder in time, and look into your own mind. As a man, a reaſonable and ſocial creature, deſigned for duty to a God above you, and to a world of fellow-creatures around you, you will conſider the rules of virtue and morality, and be no longer numbered with thoſe miſerable mortals, who are doomed to condemnation upon their diſobedience. Thoſe rules lie open in a perfect goſpel, and the wicked can have nothing to plead for their behaviour. [111]They want no light to direct them. They want no aſſiſtance to ſupport them in doing their duty. They have a Goſpel to bring them to life and ſalvation, if they will but take notice of it; and if they will not walk in the light of God's law, this Goſpel muſt be their judgment and condemnation.

Say then, Sir, (Martha proceeded) can you be prevailed on to think of religion in its native purity and ſimplicity, and by the power of the Goſpel, ſo act with regard to virtue and piety, that when Chriſt ſhall come not only in the power, but in the wiſdom and the juſtice of God, to judge the world, you may be ſecured from that miſery and diſtreſs, which is prepared for iniquity; and enjoy that eternal life, which is to be the portion of the righteous?

In this extraordinary manner did Martha Harrington diſcourſe me, and the effect of it was (Jack Price continued), that I became a thorow reform from that hour. My rational life from that happy day commenced, and I entred ſeriouſly into my own breaſt, to think in earneſt of that ſolemn judgment to come. What Martha ſaid was ſo clear and ſtrong, that I had not a thought of replying, but truth at once intirely ſubdued my heart, and I flew to the Son of God, to requeſt his interceſſion with the Father of the Univerſe for the pardon of all my crimes. [112]The dignity and end of my being has ſince been the ſubject of my meditations, and I live convinced, that every thing is contemptible that is inconſiſtent with duty and morality. This renders even my pleaſures more agreeable. This gives eternal peace to my mind.

24. A converſation.

Here Price ended his remarkable ſtory, and according to our agreement, I began to relate what happened to me from the time we parted at ſchool, and concluded with informing him, that I was going in ſearch of Charles Turner, my near friend, when fortune brought me to his houſe: that this gentleman lived ſomewhere towards the confines of Cumberland and the North-riding of Yorkſhire, but where the ſpot was I could not tell, nor did I know well how to go on, as the country before me ſeemed unpaſſable, on account of its mountains, precipices, and floods: I muſt try however what can be done; not only in regard to this gentleman; but, becauſe I have reaſon to think it may be very much to my advantage, as he is very rich, and the moſt generous of men. If he is to be found, I know I ſhall be welcome to ſhare in his happineſs as long as I pleaſe, nor will it be any weight to him. Price to this replyed, that I was moſt heartily welcome to him as long as I pleaſed to [113]ſtay, and that tho' he was far from being a rich man, yet he had every day enough for himſelf and one more; and his Martha he was ſure would be as well pleaſed with my company, as if I had been his own brother, ſince ſhe knew I was his eſteemed friend. —In reſpect of the way, he ſaid, he would enable me to find Mr. Turner, if he could, but the country was difficult to travel, and he doubted very much if one could go to the extremity of Cumberland or Yorkſhire over the hills; but we would try however, and if it was poſſible, find out Mr. Turner's houſe. Yet ſolely with him I muſt not ſtay, if he could be ſeen. I muſt live between both, till I got ſome Northern girl, and had a wife and habitation of my own; and there is (continued Price) not many miles from me, a ſweet pretty laſs, the daughter of a gentleman-farmer, who is a very good man, and would, I believe, upon my recommendation, give you his girl, and a ſum of money, to ſit down on thoſe hills.—This is vaſtly kind, Jack, I anſwering, ſaid, and what I ſhall gratefully remember ſo long as I live. I may ride many a mile I am ſure, and be an adventurer many a long day, before I meet with ſuch offers again. Your ſweetly ſituated houſe and good things, with a fine northern girl and money down, are benefits [114]not to be met with every day.—But at preſent the object I muſt purſue, is my univerſity friend, Charles Turner, and if you pleaſe to do me the great favor of guiding me ſo far as you can over this wild, uninhabited land, after I have ſtayed with you, for the firſt time, two or three days, and promiſe to abide many more hereafter, if it be in my power, we will ſet out in queſt of what I want. As you will, my friend Price replyed: and for the preſent, let us be gay. Here comes my beloved, with a little bowl of punch, and as ſhe ſings extremely well, and you have not forgot I fanſy our old ſong, we will have it over our nectar. You ſhall repreſent Janus and Momus, and I will be Chronos and Mars, and my wife Diana and Venus. Let us take a glaſs firſt — the liberties of the world—and then do you begin. We drank, and in the following manner I went on.

25. A SONG.

Janus.
Chronos, Chronos, mend thy pace,
An hundred times the rowling ſun,
Around the radiant belt has run,
In his revolving race.
Behold, behold the goal in ſight,
Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight.
[115]
Chronos.
Weary, weary of my weight,
Let me, let me drop my freight,
And leave the world behind.
I could not bear
Another year
The load of human kind.
Momus.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! well haſt thou done,
To lay down thy pack,
And lighten thy back.
The world was a fool, e'er ſince it begun,
And ſince neither Janus, nor Chronos, nor I,
Can hinder the crimes,
Or mend the bad times,
'Tis better to laugh than to cry.
Chorus.
'Tis better to laugh than to cry.
Janus.
Since Momus comes to laugh below,
Old time begin the ſhow!
That he may ſee, in every ſcene,
What changes in this age have been;
Chronos.
Then goddeſs of the ſilver bow begin!
Diana.
With horns and with hounds I waken the day,
And hye to my woodland-walks away;
I tuck up my robe, and am buſkin'd ſoon,
And tye to my forehead a wexing moon;
[116]I courſe the fleet ſtag, unkennel the fox,
And chaſe the wild goats o'er ſummits of rocks,
With ſhouting and hooting we pierce thro' the ſky:
And eccho turns hunter, and doubles the cry.
Chorus.
With ſhouting and hooting we pierce thro' the ſky,
And eccho turns hunter, and doubles the cry.
Janus.
Then our age was in its prime,
Chronos.
Free from rage,
Diana.
—And free from crime.
Momus.
A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.
Chorus.
Then our age was in its prime,
Free from rage, and free from crime.
A very merry, dancing, drinking,
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.
Mars.
Inſpire the vocal braſs, inſpire;
The world is paſt its infant age:
Arms and honour,
Arms and honour,
Set the martial mind on fire,
And kindle manly rage.
[117]
Mars has lookt the ſky to red;
And peace, the lazy good, is fled.
Plenty, peace, and pleaſure fly;
The ſprightly green
In Woodland-walks, no more is ſeen;
The ſprightly green has drank the Tyrian dye.
Chorus.
Plenty, peace, and pleaſure fly;
The ſprightly green
In Woodland-walks, no more is ſeen;
The ſprightly green has drank the Tyrian dye.
Mars.
Sound the trumpet, beat the drum,
Through all the world around;
Sound a reveille, ſound, ſound,
The warrior God is come.
Chorus
Sound the trumpet, beat the drum,
Through all the world around;
Sound a reveille, ſound, ſound,
The warrior God is come.
Momus.
Thy ſword within the ſcabbard keep,
And let mankind agree;
Better the world were faſt aſleep,
Than kept awake by thee.
The fools are only thinner,
With all our coſt and care;
But neither ſide a winner,
For things are as they were.
[118]
Chorus.
The fools are only thinner,
With all our coſt and care;
But neither ſide a winner,
For things are as they were.
Venus.
Calms appear, when ſtorms are paſt,
Love will have its hour at laſt:
Nature is my kindly care;
Mars deſtroys, and I repair;
Take me, take me, while you may,
Venus comes not ev'ry day.
Chorus.
Take her, take her, while you may,
Venus comes not ev'ry day.
Chronos.
The world was then ſo light,
I ſcarcely felt the weight;
Joy rul'd the day, and love the night.
But ſince the queen of pleaſure left the ground,
I faint, I lag,
And feebly drag
The pond'rous orb around.
Momus
pointing to Diana.
All, all, of a piece throughout;
The chace had a beaſt in view;
to Mars.
Thy wars brought nothing about;
to Venus.
Thy lovers were all untrue,
to Janus.
'Tis well an old age is out,
And time to begin a new.
[119]
Chorus.
All, all, of a piece throughout;
Thy chace had a beaſt in view;
Thy wars brought nothing about;
Thy lovers were all untrue;
'Tis well an old age is out,
And time to begin a new.

26. An account of Mrs. Price of Stanemore.

In this happy manner did we paſs the night in this wild and frightful part of the world, and for three ſucceeding evenings and days, enjoyed as much true ſatisfaction as it was poſſible for mortals to feel. Price was an ingenious, chearful, entertaining man, and his wife had not only ſenſe more than ordinary, but was one of the beſt of women. I was prodigiouſly pleaſed with her converſation. Tho' ſhe was no woman of letters, nor had any books in her houſe except the Bible, Barrow's and Wichcott's ſermons, Howell's Hiſtory of the World, and the Hiſtory of England, yet from theſe few, a great memory, and an extraordinary conception of things, had collected a valuable knowledge, and ſhe talked with an eaſe and perſpicuity that was wonderful. On religious ſubjects ſhe aſtoniſhed me.

The nature, end, and deſign of chriſtianity, conſidered in a converſation. As Sunday was one of the days I ſtayed there, and Price was obliged in the afternoon to be from home, I paſſed it in converſation with his wife. The day introduced religion, [120]and among other things, I aſked her, which ſhe thought the beſt evidences of chriſtianity? The prophecies or the miracles?

Neither: (Mrs. Price replyed). The prophecies of the Meſſiah recorded in the old teſtament are a good proof of the chriſtian religion, as it is plane from many inſtances in the new teſtament, that the Jewiſh converts of that generation underſtood them to relate to our Lord; which is a ſufficient reaſon for our believing them. Since they knew the true intent and meaning of them, and on account of their knowing it, were converted; the prophecies for this reaſon ſhould by us be regarded as divine teſtimony in favor of Chriſt Jeſus.—Then as to miracles, they are to be ſure a means of proving and ſpreading the chriſtian religion, as they ſhew the divine miſſion of the Meſſiah, and rouze the mind to attend to the power by which theſe mighty works were wrought. Thus miracle and prophecy ſhew the teacher came from God. They contribute to the eſtabliſhment of his kingdom, and have a tendency to produce that faith which purifies the heart, and brings forth the new birth.

But the greater evidence for the truth of our holy religion, appears to me to be that which converted the primitive chriſtians, to wit, the powerful influence which the Goſpel has on the minds of thoſe who ſtudy [121]it with ſincerity, and the inward diſcoveries Chriſt makes to the underſtanding of the faithful by his light and good ſpirit. This exceeds the other evidences, if the heart be honeſt. The Goſpel is irreſiſtible, when the ſpirit of God moves upon the minds of chriſtians. When the divine power, diſpenſed through Chriſt, aſſiſts and ſtrengthens us to do good, and to eſchew evil, then chriſtianity appears a religion worthy of God, and in itſelf the moſt reaſonable. The compleat ſalvation deſerves our ready acceptation. That religion muſt charm a reaſonable world, which not only reſtores the worſhip of the one true God, and exhibits, in a perfect plan, thoſe rules of moral rectitude, whereby the conduct of men ſhould be governed, and their future happineſs ſecured; but, by its bleſſed ſpirit, informs our judgments, influences our wills, rectifies and ſubdues our paſſions, turns the biaſs of our minds from the objects and pleaſures of ſenſe, and fixes them upon the ſupreme good. Moſt glorious ſurely is ſuch a goſpel.

But does not this operation of the ſpirit, (I ſaid) which you make the principal evidence for chriſtianity, debaſe human nature, and make man too weak, too helpleſs and depending a being? If voluntary good agency depends on ſupernatural influence [122]and enlivening aid, does not this make us mere patients, and if we are not moral agents, that is, have not a power of chuſing or refuſing, of doing or avoiding, either good or evil, can there be any human virtue? Can we in ſuch caſe approve or diſapprove ourſelves to God. To me it ſeems that man was created to perform things natural, rational, and ſpiritual, and has an ability to act within the reach of his agency, as his duty requires. I think the moral fitneſs of things is a rule of action to conduct our actions by, and that the great advantage of revelation conſiſts in its heavenly moral leſſons, and the certainty of that future judgment and retribution, which has a powerful influence upon a rational mind, and ſtrongly inclines a reaſonable being to ſave his ſoul, by ſo acting in this world, as to avoid everlaſting miſery, and enſure the favor of God, and eternal happineſs in another world. This appears to me more conſiſtent with the nature and the truth of things. It is more to the honour of human nature, if I miſtake not, and gives more glory to God.

To this Mrs. Price anſwered, that as ſhe was ſenſible of the ſhortneſs of her own underſtanding, and believed the faculties of the human mind in general were weak and deficient, ſhe could not ſee any thing unreaſonable in ſuppoſing the [123]thing formed depended on, and was ſubject to the Creator that made it. It cannot be abſurd ſurely to ſay, that ſo weak and helpleſs a being as a man, depends intirely on God. Where in the nature of things can we fix a ſtandard of certainty in underſtanding, and ſtability in practice, but in the fountain of truth, and all perfection?

But to our better comprehending this matter, let us take a view of primitive Chriſtian religion.—Chriſtianity is a divine inſtitution, by which God declares himſelf reconciled to mankind for the ſake of his beloved ſon, the Lord Jeſus Chriſt, on condition of repentance, amendment of life, and perſeverance in a ſtate of holineſs; and that we might be able to perform the things required of us, he offers the aſſiſtance of his good ſpirit. This laſt offer, in a proper ſenſe, is ſalvation; for according to his mercy, he ſaved us, by the waſhing of regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghoſt. By grace are ye ſaved thro' faith, and that not of yourſelves; it is the gift of God. We find, then, that there are two parts in the Chriſtian religion: one, external and hiſtorical; the other, internal and experimental. The firſt comprehends what is no more to be repeated, tho' the effects are laſting and permanent, to wit, the life and good works of Jeſus, his miracles, death, and reſurrection; which declare him ſpotleſs virtue, [124]perfect obedience, and the ſon of God with power:—And in the ſecond part, we have that ſtanding experience of a divine help, which converts and ſupports a ſpiritual life: It is true, both the parts have a near relation, and in conjunction produce the good ends of religion. The ſecond is the effect of the firſt. Redemption from the power of ſin, ſanctification, and juſtification, are bleſſings wrought in us by the good Spirit of him, who without us did many glorious things, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himſelf a peculiar people zealous of good works: And, that they who live, ſhould not henceforth live unto themſelves, but unto him that died for them and roſe again. But, it is in the ſecond part, that the excellence of our holy religion conſiſts. We have no ability of ourſelves to take off our minds from the things that are evil, and engage them in the work of religion and godlineſs. This is the gift of God. It is a continued miracle that cleanſes that polluted fountain the heart, and therefore I call this experience the principal evidence of the Chriſtian religion. It is the glory of chriſtianity, and renders it the perfection of all religions.

That chriſtianity (I replyed) is the perfection of all religions, is granted, but that we have no ability to ſave our ſouls without a ſupernatural operation on them, this is what I ſtill have ſome doubt of. A careful examination [125]of the ſubject, produces ſome hard objections, and therefore, madam, I will lay my difficulties before you, that your fine natural underſtanding may remove them, if it be poſſible. I will be ſhort on the article, for many words would only darken it.

In the firſt place, then, as to man's inability to live a religious life, and practice the precepts of the goſpel, it muſt be the effect of the human compoſition, or the effect of the agency of the ſerpent. If the former, it is chargeable upon the author of the compoſition; —if the latter, upon the agent which acts upon it. Man could not be culpable, I think, for a bad life, in either caſe. —If my nature be weakneſs itſelf—or the ſerpent is ſuperior to me—what good can be required of me? can the ſupreme reaſon call for brick, where there are no materials to make it with? will you ſay, yes; becauſe he gives ſupernatural ability to perform. But then, can this be called man's action? It is the action of the author by his miſerable creature, man: and in ſuch caſe, may we not ſay, that tho' commands are given to man to obey revealed laws, yet the obedience is performed by God?

In the next place, as man in his natural capacity, and all his natural powers, are the work of God, and as truly derived from him as any ſupernatural powers can be, it follows, [126]I imagine, that a voluntary agent's making a right uſe of the powers of his nature, is as valuable as his being compelled to act well and wiſely by a ſupernatural power. To aſſert, then, ſuch experiences or operations, to me ſeems to miſrepreſent the nature of a being excellently conſtituted to anſwer the good purpoſes he was created for. I am likewiſe, at preſent, of opinion, that depretiating our natural abilities, does not give ſo much glory to God as you imagine.

To this Mrs. Price replyed, that by the operation of the ſpirit, ſhe did not mean that man was purely paſſive, and had no part in the working out his ſalvation, but that God co-operates with man, and without deſtroying the faculty of reaſon, improves it by convincing and enlightning the underſtanding, and by moving and inclining the will towards ſuch objects as are acceptable to himſelf, and from thoſe that are contrary to his goſpel. The mind in this manner enlightned and affected, begins to act, and as the ſpirit moves upon the ſoul, the quickened man, under the divine direction, does all the good the ſcripture commands him to do, and eſchews the evil he is ordered to avoid. By God thro' Chriſt, he practices the excellent virtues recommended in the holy books, and for this reaſon, the righteouſneſs which chriſtians bring forth, is called in ſcripture, the righteouſneſs [127]of Chriſt, the righteouſneſs of God, and the righteouſneſs of faith. Chriſt is the efficient. We thro' him are made able to act. Notwithſtanding the weakneſs and incapacity of our nature, yet thro' faith in the power of God, which is given to all who believe in him, we are enabled to flee immorality and vice, and by a life of virtue and piety, to enjoy the pleaſure of a ſweet reflexion, and the praiſes of unpolluted reaſon.

That this is the caſe of man, the ſacred writings declare in a thouſand places, and ſet forth the exceeding greatneſs of God's power in this reſpect. The miniſtry of the goſpel appears to have been ordained for this end, and the perfection of the chriſtian religion, to reſt on this particular thing. The Lord died for our ſins, and roſe again for our juſtification, that we through power received from him, (the power of his reſurrection) might be made righteous. And the apoſtle adds, I am not aſhamed of the goſpel of Chriſt, for it is the power of God unto ſalvation, to every one that believeth, to the Jew firſt, and alſo to the Greek, for therein is the righteouſneſs of God revealed from faith to faith. And that the promiſe of the Holy Ghoſt had reference not only to the great effuſion of the Spirit at Pentecoſt, which was a ſolemn confirmation of the new and ſpiritual diſpenſation of the [128]goſpel; but alſo to that inſtruction which Chriſtians of every age were to receive from it continually, if they attended to it, is evident from the promiſe of Chriſt,—I will pray the Father, and he ſhall give you another comforter, (the ſpirit of truth) that he may abide with you for ever. This ſpirit was to ſupply the place of his perſonal preſence. It was to become a teacher and comforter to his diſciples and followers to the end of time— to enlighten and incline their minds to piety and virtue—to enable them to do all things appertaining to life and godlineſs, and to have a faith in God's power and all-ſufficiency. This is the glorious ſpecific difference of Chriſtianity from all other religions. We have an inward inſtructor and ſupporter always abiding with us. And what can be a higher honor to mankind, or an act of greater love in God, than for him to interpoſe continually, and by his holy Spirit reſtore the teachable and attentive to that purity and uprightneſs in which he at firſt created man? Glorious diſpenſation! Here is a compleat reparation of the loſs ſuſtained by tranſgreſſion. We are created anew in Chriſt Jeſus, and are made partakers of the divine nature. Surely this is the utmoſt that can be expected from religion. In ſhort, (continued Mrs. Price) it is to me a moſt amazing thing, to ſee men of ſenſe diſclaim this help, argue for [129] ſelf-ſufficiency and independency, and receive only the outward appearance of the Son of God, in a literal, hiſtorical, and formal profeſſion of chriſtianity! This will never do the work. The outward appearance of the Son of God only puts us in a capacity of ſalvation: it is the inward appearance by the power and virtue of the ſpirit that muſt ſave us. The end of the goſpel is repentance, forgiveneſs of ſins, and amendment of manners; and the means of obtaining that end, is chriſtianity in the life, ſpirit and power of it.

You talk extremely well, madam, (I ſaid) upon this ſubject, and have almoſt made me a convert to the notion of an inward appearance of the Son of God: but I muſt beg leave to obſerve to you, that as to what you have added, by way of explication and vindication of the operation of the ſpirit, to wit, that man has agency, and God co-operates with it, by which means the man is enabled to apply his agency to the performance of good; this does not ſeem to me to make the matter quite plain. The virtue or goodneſs of an agent muſt certainly ariſe from a right exerciſe of his own power, and how then can God's co-operating with him make him a better man? Can ſuch co-operation add any thing to my virtue, if my goodneſs is to be rated in proportion to the exertion of my own will and agency. If I am not able to ſave a [130]man from drowning, tho' I pity him, and do my beſt to preſerve his life; but God gives me ſtrength, or co-operates with me, and ſo the man is ſaved; can this add any thing to my virtue or goodneſs? It would be indeed an inſtance of God's goodneſs to the man; but as to myſelf, I did no more with the divine co-operation than I did without it. I made all the uſe I could of what power I had. This ſeems to me a ſtrong objection againſt the inward appearance: nor is it all there is to object. If I ſee a man in a deep wet ditch, in a dangerous and miſerable way, and am prompted by a natural affection, and the fitneſs of relieving, to exert a ſufficient ſtrength I have, to take the man out of his diſtreſs, and put him in a comfortable way; (which is a thing I really did once, and thereby ſaved a uſeful life);—in this caſe, there was good done by an agent, without any ſupernatural co-operation at all: Many more inſtances might be produced: but from what has been ſaid, is it not plain, that much good may be done without any interpoſition;—and, with it, that no good can be added to the character of the agent?

But you will ſay, perhaps, that the good diſpoſition of the agent in ſuch caſes, is ſupernatural operation, and without ſuch operation, he could not make a right uſe of his ability. To this we reply, that if by diſpoſition is [131]meant a given power to diſtinguiſh betwixt motive and motive, and ſo to judge of moral fitneſs and unfitneſs; or, a power to act from right motives, when ſuch are preſent to the mind;—theſe cannot be given, becauſe they are the powers which conſtitute a man a moral agent, and render him accountable for his actions. Without them he could not be a ſubject of moral government.

And if you mean by the term diſpoſition, God's preſenting ſuch motives to the mind, as are neceſſary to excite to right action; the anſwer is, that tho' God may kindly interpoſe, and in many inſtances, by ſupernatural operation, preſent ſuch motives to the mind, yet ſuch operation cannot be always neceſſary, in order to our doing good.—In many caſes we ſee at once what good ought to be done, and we do it inſtantly of ourſelves, unleſs the natural faculties be perverted by falſe principles. If our fellow-creature falls into the fire, or has a fit, while we are near him, the fitneſs of relieving him, and the natural compaſſion eſſential to our conſtitution, will make us fly to his aſſiſtance, without a ſupernatural operation. We want no divine impulſe to make us interpoſe. Without being reminded, we will do our beſt to recover the man, if ſuperſtition or paſſion hath not miſled the natural powers of the mind. In a great variety of things, the caſe is the [132]ſame, and when at a glance we ſee the fitneſs of action, there is an immediate production of good.

It is not juſt then to aſſert that the heart cannot be the ſpring of good actions, without the actings of God. It is the ſeat and ſource of both evil and good. Man is capable of giving glory to God, and of doing the contrary. He is conſtituted to anſwer all the purpoſes of ſocial felicity, and to act a part ſuitable to, and becoming that reaſon and underſtanding, which God hath given him to guide his ſteps; and he may, on the contrary, by abuſing his liberty, act an unſocial part in the creation, and do great diſhonour to his Maker, by the evil imaginations of his heart, and the violence his hand commits. This hath been the ſtate of human nature from the fall to the flood, and from the flood to our time. The human race have a natural ability for good or evil, and are at liberty for the choice of either of theſe. If thou doeſt well, Cain, who haſt power, and is at liberty to do evil, thou ſhalt be accepted. And if thou doeſt not well, who haſt power, and is at liberty to do good, ſin lieth at the door. If this had not been the caſe of Cain, (and of others ſince his days), it ſeems to me at preſent, that God would act an unequal part with his creatures. Can happineſs or miſery be called reward or puniſhment, unleſs [133]the creature can voluntarily chuſe or avoid the thing which renders him the object of infliction or glory? I think not. For we muſt all appear before the judgment ſeat of Chriſt, that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad. The agency of a ſerpent will be no plea then, for a Cain, I ſuppoſe: nor will Abel's title to an inheritance depend only on the good brought forth in him by the Lord.—And as to a ſelf-ſufficiency or independency in all this, as often charged, I can ſee none, for the reaſon already given, to wit, that my natural powers are as much the gift of God to me as ſupernatural powers can be, and render me as dependent a being. They are derived from him: It is his given powers I uſe, and if I make a right uſe of them, to anſwer the great and wiſe purpoſe I was created for, the good application muſt be as valuable as if I had applied ſupernatural powers to the ſame purpoſe.

What you ſay, ſir, (Mrs. Price anſwered) has reaſon in it, to be ſure: but it ſeems inconſiſtent with the language of the Bible, and takes away the Grace of God intirely, and the principal evidence of the Chriſtian religion: As to the neceſſary guilt of mankind, Moſes ſays;—and God ſaw, that the wickedneſs of man was great in the earth; and that every imagination of the thoughts of [134]his heart, was only evil continually: and it repented the Lord, that he had made man on the earth, etc. And again;—The earth alſo was corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with violence: and God looked upon the earth, and behold it was corrupt, for all fleſh had corrupted his way on the earth. And God ſaid unto Noah, the end of all fleſh is come before me, for the earth is filled with violence thro' them; and behold, I will deſtroy them with the earth. But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.—The prophet Jeremiah does likewiſe affirm, The heart is deceitful above all things, and deſperately wicked. And St. Paul declares from Pſalm 14 and 53. There is none righteous, no not one; there is none that underſtandeth, there is none that ſeeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are altogether become unprofitable; there is none that doth good, no not one. Their throat is an open ſepulchre; with their tongues have they uſed deceit; the poiſon of aſps is under their lips: whoſe mouth is full of curſing and bitterneſs. Their feet are ſwift to ſhed blood. Deſtruction and miſery are in their ways. And the way of peace have they not known.

Then as to grace, or the operation of the Spirit, to cure this miſerable condition of mankind, Peter ſaid unto them, repent, and be baptized every one of you, in the name of Jeſus Chriſt, for the remiſſion of ſins, and ye ſhall receive [135]the gift of the Holy Ghoſt, for the promiſe is unto you and your children, and to all that are afar off. This is a very extenſive declaration both as to time and place. After Peter had told the people, the God of our fathers raiſed up Jeſus whom ye ſlew, and hanged on a tree, him hath God exalted with his right hand, to be a prince and a Saviour, for to give repentance unto Iſrael, and forgiveneſs of ſins, and we are his witneſſes of theſe things, and ſo alſo is the Holy Ghoſt, whom God hath given to them that obey him: the apoſtle adds, then they, (the Gentiles) were filled with the Holy Ghoſt. All who obeyed, without diſtinction, had the Holy Ghoſt given them, and it was a witneſs to them of the truth of Chriſt's divine miſſion, and the good effects of it, according to the promiſe of the Lord, to wit, he ſhall teſtify of me.

St. Paul likewiſe tells us, if any man have not the ſpirit of Chriſt, he is none of his. And if Chriſt be in you, the body is dead becauſe of ſin, but the ſpirit is life, becauſe of righteouſneſs; but if the ſpirit of him that raiſed up Jeſus from the dead, dwell in you, he that raiſed up Chriſt from the dead, ſhall alſo quicken your mortal bodies by his ſpirit that dwelleth in you. Therefore brethren, we are debtors, not to the fleſh to live after the fleſh, for if ye live after the fleſh ye ſhall die; but if ye thro' the ſpirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye ſhall live. For [136]as many as are led by the ſpirit of God, they are the ſons of God. For ye have not received the ſpirit of bondage again to fear, but ye have received the ſpirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba Father, the ſpirit itſelf beareth witneſs with our ſpirit, that we are the children of God.—Here we ſee the neceſſity of having the ſpirit of Chriſt, and that thoſe who have it not, do not belong to him. They are none of his. We may likewiſe obſerve, that it mortifies the deeds of the body, and quickens the ſoul to a life of holineſs: the paſſage likewiſe ſhews, that the ſpirit bears witneſs with our ſpirits, and by an evidence peculiar to itſelf, gives us a certain ſenſe, or underſtanding of it.

In ſhort, Sir, a great number of texts might be produced, to ſhew not only the work and effect of the Divine ſpirit upon our minds; but that, it is an evidence, the principal evidence and ground of certainty to believers, reſpecting the truth of chriſtianity. I will mention however only two or three more, and then ſhall be glad to hear what you ſay to thoſe things.

What man knoweth the ſpirit of man, ſave the ſpirit of man which is in him? even ſo the things of God knoweth no man, but the ſpirit of God. Now we have received not the ſpirit of the world, but the ſpirit which is of God, that we might know the things which are freely [137]given to us of God.—Ye have an unction from the Holy one, and ye know all things. Theſe things have I written to you, concerning them that ſeduce you; but the anointing which ye have received of him, abideth in you, and ye need not that any teach you, but as the ſame anointing teacheth you of all things, and is truth, and is no lie, and even as it hath taught you, ye ſhall abide in it.—Hereby we know that he abideth in us by his ſpirit, which he hath given us. Hereby we know that we dwell in him, and he in us, becauſe he hath given us of his ſpirit.

What do you ſay to all this? do not the ſacred paſſages I have repeated ſeem to declare in the planeſt manner the neceſſary iniquity of man; that this is to be cured only, and his nature rectified by the operation of the Divine ſpirit; and that the effuſion of the ſpirit, both as to inſtruction and evidence, was not peculiar to the infancy of chriſtianity? This appears to my underſtanding. The very eſſence of the chriſtian religion I think from theſe ſcriptures conſiſts in the power and efficacy of the ſpiritual principle.

The ſtate of religion from the creation to this time.

What you have ſaid madam, (I replied) ſeems ſtrong indeed in defence of the weakneſs of man, and the operation of the ſpirit, and I ſhould be of your way of thinking as to the manifeſtation of it, but that I imagine the thing may be explained in a different [138]manner. Let us review our religion, if you pleaſe, and perhaps we may find, that another account may be given of ſanctification, and the renewing the mind into a ſtate of holineſs.

When God called this world into being, his purpoſe was without all peradventure, that his rational creatures might enjoy the nobleſt pleaſures, and by conforming their conduct to the fitneſs and relation of things, from a due regard to the authority of the firſt cauſe, by whom this fitneſs and relation were wiſely conſtituted, ſecure all the bleſsings of this life, and honour, and glory, and immortality, in ſome future ſtate of exiſttence. This I think was the caſe. True religion was to form and fix every good principle in the human mind, produce all righteouſneſs in the converſation, and thereby render mankind the bleſſed of the univerſal Father. They were to worſhip the one true God; the poſſeſſor of all being, and the fountain of all good; to believe in him, and have their truſt and dependence always on him; to be pure and peaceable, gentle and full of mercy, without partiality, without hypocriſy, and ſo devoted to holineſs and obedience, to every virtue and every good work which the law of reaſon can require from men; that after a long life ſpent in acting a part the moſt honourable to God, and the moſt [139]advantageous to mankind, in obeying the dictates of reaſon, and thereby imitating the example of God; they might be tranſlated to the regions of immortality and day, where the firſt and great original diſplays as it were face to face the perfections of the Deity, and from an all-perfect and holy being receive the vaſt rewards he has prepared for thoſe, who, in this firſt ſtate, have been to all the purpoſes of life and religion, perfect as he is perfect. For theſe reaſons did the ſupreme director, the greateſt and the beſt Being in the univerſe, command the human race into exiſtence. He gave them faculties to conduct them here through various ſcenes of happineſs to the realms of immortality and immutable felicity. It was a Godlike deſign.

But it was not very long before this human race became corrupt, and not only did evil in the ſight of the Lord, but ceaſed to apprehend the firſt cauſe as one moſt perfect mind. The natural notions of moral perfection which reaſon and the light of nature ſupply, they no longer minded, nor thought of what is fit and reaſonable to be done in every caſe. The paſſions began to influence and direct their lives: juſt and pure ideas of the Deity were loſt, falſe ones took place, and the miſchief and its fatal conſequences became very great. It was a melancholy [140]ſcene! The exalted notions of one glorious God, and of that true religion which ſubſiſts in the expectation of a future ſtate, were no longer known, nor did the race ever think of approving themſelves in the eye of an all perfect and holy being. Superſtition and iniquity prevailed, and the ſpread of evil was wide.

God ſaw that the wickedneſs of man was great in the earth—the thoughts of his heart, evil continually, &c. as you have before quoted from the book of Geneſis; and becauſe the wickedneſs of the tenth generation was ſo great, and men no longer endeavoured after thoſe perfections, which are natural and proper to rational minds;—no longer thought of conforming themſelves to the divine nature, or ſtrove to imitate the excellencies of it, tho' conſtituted to give glory to their Maker, and endued with a reaſon and underſtanding ſufficient to teach them the rule of duty, and guide their ſteps in the ways of true religion; but againſt the light of their own minds, acted the moſt impious and unſociable part; therefore God repented that he had made them, that is, he did what is the product of repentance in men, when they undo, as far as it is in their power, what they repent of, and deſtroyed his own work by that deſolating judgment, the flood. This ſeems to be the truth of the caſe. The words of Moſes do not mean the ſtate of human [141]nature on account of the fall. They expreſs only the wickedneſs of the tenth generation as a reaſon for the deluge at that time. There is not the leaſt ground for aſſerting from this paſſage in the ſacred hiſtorian, that man was unable to do good by his natural powers, and that his crimes were a reſiſting the actings of God upon his mind. The impiety of this generation was a mere abuſe of free will, and acting againſt the plain dictates of their own minds: therefore, when wilful oppreſſion and ſenſuality filled the earth, God deſtroyed the world by an inundation. Noah only, who was a juſt man, and perfect in his generation, with his family eſcaped.

This terrible execution of an awful vengeance on the guilty race, demonſtrated to the ſurvivors, and to all the ages to come, the great malignity of ſin, and the uncontrolable ſupremacy of the divine government. As the venerable Patriarch and his family failed over the boſom of the boundleſs ocean of waters, and above the wrecks and ruins of this terreſtrial world, they adored to be ſure with grateful hearts, the Almighty Father of virtue and goodneſs, who had ſo wonderfully preſerved them, and were convinced by the amazing, ſtriking evidence, that ſin is the greateſt infamy and degradation of our reaſonable nature; that it has an inſuperable repugnancy and irreverſible contrariety, to our [142]true happineſs, and is infamous, pernicious, and ruinous, by the ſentence of the Almighty. The dreadful event unanſwerably evinced his conſtant actual cognizance of enormous faith and manners, and his unchangeable diſpleaſure with them. This truth, which was learnt at firſt, by the expulſion from Paradiſe, and the ſad inheritance of Mortality, they ſaw again republiſhed in the moſt awful manner. This gave undoubtedly a very religious turn to their minds, and they determined to be ſure to adhere to thoſe excellent principles and practices, which had been, thro' God's goodneſs, their ſecurity in the general deſolation, and to flee the contrary malignant ones which had procured that deſolation on the reſt. In a degree ſuitable to their nature and ability, they reſolved to imitate the perfections of God, and to employ the powers and faculties of reaſon in endeavouring to be juſt, and righteous, and merciful. And as the amazing operation of God in the deluge called for their wonder and praiſe, we muſt think their hearts glowed with the ſenſe of his goodneſs to them, and that they extolled his mercy and power in the ſalvation they had received. So we are told by an inſpired writer. Noah reſtored the antient rites of divine ſervice, and built an altar to the Lord. And the Lord ſmelled a ſweet Savour, and ſaid, Never any more will I curſe the [143]ground for man's ſake, tho' the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth; becauſe he will not hearken to the voice of reaſon, and with the greateſt ardor and contention of mind, labour to attain a conformity to the divine nature in the moral perfections of it; which is the true dignity of man, and the utmoſt excellence of human ſouls. Neither will I again ſmite any more every living creature as I have done. While the earth remaineth, ſeedtime and harveſt, and cold and heat, and ſummer and winter, and day and night ſhall not ceaſe.

Thus did God enter into a covenant with Noah, and his ſons, and their ſeed; and as the late amazing occurrences muſt incline the ſpectators of the flood to piety and goodneſs; and the fathers of the poſtdiluvian world were careful to inſtruct their children in the ſeveral parts of the ſtupendous fact, and from the whole inculcate the Being and Perfections of God, his univerſal dominion and actual providence and government over all things, his love of virtue and goodneſs and infinite deteſtation of all ſin; to which we may add, that the imitation of God is not a new principle introduced into religion by revelation, but has its foundation in the reaſon and nature of things;—we may from hence conclude, that the riſing generation were perſons of conſpicuous devotion, and followed [144]after the moral virtues, the holineſs, juſtice and mercy which the light of nature diſcovers. They were, I believe, moſt excellent mortals for ſome time. They obeyed to be ſure every dictate of reaſon, and adored and praiſed the inviſible Deity; the Supreme immutable mind.

But this beautiful ſcene had an end, and man once more forgot his Maker and himſelf. He proſtituted the honor of both, by robbing God of the obedience due to him, and by ſubmitting himſelf a ſlave to the elements of the world. When he looked up to the heavens, and ſaw the glory of the ſun and ſtars, inſtead of praiſing the Lord of all, he fooliſhly ſaid, Theſe are thy Gods, O Man! A univerſal apoſtacy from the primitive religion prevailed. They began with the heavenly bodies, or ſydereal Gods, and proceeded to heroes, brutes, and images, till the world was overflowed with an inundation of idolatry, and ſuperſtition; even ſuch ſuperſtition, as nouriſhed under the notion of Religion, and pleaſing the Gods, the moſt beſtial impurities, the moſt inhuman and unnatural cruelties, and the moſt unmanly and contemptible follies. Moral virtue and goodneſs were totally extinguiſhed. When men had loſt the ſenſe of the ſupreme Being, the Creator, Governor, and Judge of the world, they not only ceaſed to be righteous and holy, but became [145]neceſſarily vitious and corrupt in practice; for iniquity flows from corrupt religion, as the waters from the ſpring. The principles and ceremonies of the eſtabliſhed idolatries gave additional ſtrength to mens natural inclinations, to intemperance, luſt, fraud, violence, and every kind of unrighteouſneſs and debauchery. Long before the days of Moſes this was the general caſe. Idolatry had violated all the duties of true religion, and the moſt abominable practices by conſtitution were authoriſed. The Phalli (11) and the Mylli (12) , rites that modeſty forbids to explain, were eſteemed principal parts of their Ritual; virgins before marriage were to ſacrifice their chaſtity to the honor of Venus; (13) [146]men were offered upon the Altars for Sacrifices; and children were burnt alive to Moloch [147]and Adramalech. In a word, the moſt abominable immoralities univerſally prevailed; with the encouragements of religion, men were led into intemperance, uncleanneſs, murders, and many vices, inconſiſtent with the proſperity and peace of ſociety, as well as with the happineſs of private perſons; and that ſuch iniquities might have a perpetual ſource, the moſt ſhameful Idolatries were preſerved in oppoſition to the knowledge and [148]worſhip of the One true God. So general was this corruption and idolatry, that the infection ſeized the deſcendants of Shem, the pious race. Even Terah, the father of Abram, we find charged with it. And Abram himſelf was culpable I think in this reſpect, as the word Aſebes imports. It is rendered in our Bible ungodly, but it ſignifies more properly idolatry, and that is what St. Paul in the 4th chapter to the Romans hints. The Apoſtle ſpeaking of Abraham, ſays,—But to him that worketh not, but believeth in him that juſtifieth the ungodly, that is, an ungodly Idolater, who has no manner of claim to the bleſſings of God, he muſt be juſtified upon the foot, not of his own prior obedience, but of God's Mercy.

In ſuch a calamitous ſtate, a Revelation to reſtore the Law of Nature, and make it more fully and clearly known, to enforce its obſervance, to afford helps and motives to the better performance of what it enjoins, and relieve the guilty mind againſt all its doubts, would certainly be a merciful vouchſafement from God to mankind, and be much for their advantage and happineſs; and therefore, in the year from the flood 428, After the flood 428. Bef. Chr. 1920. to provide for the reſtoration of the true religion, and preſerve the knowledge and worſhip of the One true God on earth, in oppoſition to the prevailing idolatry, and the groſs immoralities [149]that were the effects of idolatrous principles and practices, Jehovah commanded Abraham to leave his country, his kindred, and his father's houſe, and proceed with his family to the land of Canaan. Here God entered into Covenants with Abraham and his poſterity, Bp. Sherlock on propheey, well obſerves, that two covenants were given to Abraham, one a temporal covenant, to take place in the land of Canaan —the other, a covenant of better hope, to be performed in a better country. p. 134. to be inſtruments in the hands of providence for bringing about great deſigns in the world—that he and his poſterity were to be the Church of God, and depoſitaries of a hope, that the Covenant limited to Abraham and his choſen ſeed, was to grow in the fulneſs of time into a bleſſing upon all the nations of the earth. Abraham was at this time 75 years old, and God added to the patriarchal worſhip the viſible mark of Circumciſion, as a ſeal of a covenant between himſelf and Abraham.

Yet how fit ſoever ſuch a viſible mark might be, to keep in remembrance the covenant between God and the family of Abraham, it was found in experience, inſufficient to preſerve them from the idolatrous cuſtoms of their neighbours.—Some new laws, ſome further conſtitutions of worſhip were to be added, or, as the family of Abraham were ſituated in the midſt of idolaters and unrighteous ones, it was foreſeen they would ſoon fall from the eſſentials of religion; and inſtead of preſerving a right knowledge of God, of his Being, Perfections and Government, [150]a juſt ſenſe of the reverence all men owe to him, from a firm belief of his Being, Power, Dominion, Juſtice, and Goodneſs, and an hearty concern to obey the known Will of God in all things; doing what is pleaſing in his ſight, ſeeking, and hoping their perfection and happineſs, in the likeneſs, and in the image of God; they would, on the contrary, ſerve other Gods, and make their idolatry, not a matter of harmleſs ſpeculation, but a fountain of the moſt dangerous immoralities; and therefore, as it was highly fit in it ſelf, and well becoming the wiſdom of God, he gave Moſes a chriſtianity in hieroglyphics, that is, a tabernacle, a ſhechinah, a prieſthood, an altar, ſacrifices, laws moral and ceremonial, with every conſtituent part of the hebrew ritual; being figures of a better ſhekinah, temple, prieſt, altar, ſacrifice, revelation and bleſſings—figurative repreſentations of the more perfect conſtitutions in the days of Meſſiah the King.—This was in the year 875 after the flood, and 1491 before Chriſt. By a ritual ſo becoming the wiſdom of God, given for a preſervative againſt idolatrous principles, and as a diſpenſation preparatory to that future heavenly religion, the Hebrew nation were guarded againſt the ſurrounding corruptions of the world, and raiſed up the defenders [151]of true religion, to preſerve the knowledge and worſhip of the One true God.

But as mankind would not follow the light of nature, which is ſufficient, when attended to, for a conſtant univerſal practice of piety and morality; ſo neither would they be engaged by various reveled laws, from time to time given, and by the calls and leſſons of many prophets, to the practice of true religion and righteouſneſs; but as the heart is the ſeat and ſource of wickedneſs in man, according to the prophet Jeremiah, ſo even the hearts of the Jews became deceitful above all things, and deſperately wicked. And the Prophet goes on to ſhew, not the neceſſary inability of man without experiences, or an operating ſpirit within, (as you ſuppoſe, madam); but that, tho' men thus wickedly deceive one another, yet they cannot poſſibly by ſuch a wilful deſperate piece of wickedneſs deceive their Maker, becauſe to him the moſt ſecret receſſes of their hearts lie open; and, conſequently, in the iſſue, they deceive themſelves, ſeeing God, who knows the deceit which is lodged in their hearts, will render unto them according to their works, and according to the fruit of their doings: ſo that their hope and expectation will be diſappointed, even as a partridge is diſappointed that ſitteth on eggs, and hatcheth them not.

[152]And as St. Paul ſays from the xiv. and liii. pſalm, there was none righteous, no not one; there is none that underſtandeth, there is none that ſeeketh after God; and ſo on, as you madam, have quoted the verſes, in which the Apoſtle did not intend to ſhew the neceſſary pollution of man without the help of grace; but the groundleſsneſs of that opinion which the Jews had gone into, that they were the only people which pleaſed God; for they were as guilty as the Gentiles were in tranſgreſſing the law of nature. Neither of them had any legal title to juſtification. They were all very great tranſgreſſors. The throat of Jew and Gentile and open ſepulchre: their tongues, deceit: the poiſon of aſps under their lips: their mouths, full of curſing and bitterneſs: their feet, ſwift to ſhed blood. Deſtruction and miſery in their ways: and the way of peace have they not known: Therefore the juſtification of the Jew as well as the Gentile muſt be of grace, and not of debt.

In this was manifeſted the ineſtimable love of God in the redemption of the world by Jeſus Chriſt. Tho' Jew and Gentile were qualified to diſcern and do both good and evil, and the Jew had a written law as a further aſſiſtance, but nevertheleſs they violated the plain dictates of natural reaſon, and the divine precepts of the law, and by unrighteouſneſs and impurity, rendered themſelves objects of [153]judgment and condemnation; yet the father of the univerſe, in compaſſion to mankind, ſent a divine teacher from heaven, Chriſt, the true Prophet that was to come into the world, and by his divinely reveled teſtimony and authority, attempts to aboliſh the ſuperſtition of men, reclaim their wickedneſs, and bring them back to the true ſpiritual worſhip of God, and to that holineſs of life and manners which is agreeable to the uncorrupted light and dictates of nature. This was love. The bleſſed God, in compaſſion to human ignorance and wickedneſs, contracted by men's own fault, gives them an expreſs revelation of his will, and re-eſtabliſhes the rule of pure uncorrupt religion and morality. He declares thoſe terms of ſinful man's reconcilement to him which he was pleaſed to accept. Grace is manifeſted in the goſpel to turn men from their vanities, or idol ſervice, unto the living God, who made heaven and earth, and by the doctrine and ſacrifice of Jeſus Chriſt, to redeem us from all iniquity, and purify to himſelf a peculiar people, zealous of good works:—That denying all ungodlyneſs and worldly luſts, we ſhould live ſoberly, righteouſly, and godly in this preſent world, looking for that bleſſed hope, and the glorious appearance of the great God; who will judge the world by that divine perſon, and great temporary miniſter, whom he ſent before to [154]deſtroy ſin, and the kingdom of Satan; and to bring mankind into a perfect obedience to the will of the ſupreme Being. This renders chriſtianity a heavenly thing. Revelation thus explained is beautiful and uſeful to an extreme degree. It does not contradict, but ſtrengthens the obligations of natural religion.

Your account, Sir, (Mrs. Price anſwered) of man and religion is different indeed from mine, and I muſt allow your explications have reaſon in them: but ſtill they do not ſatisfy me, nor can I part with my own opinion. Two things in particular to me appear very ſtrange in your ſcheme. It ſeems to take away the neceſſity of the chriſtain revelation, if natural religion, duly attended to, was perfect, and ſufficient for virtue and holineſs, and thereby to gain the favor of God. If reaſon alone can do the work, if men pleaſe, then what need of the goſpel?—If men will conſider, (and without conſideration no ſcheme can be of ſervice), they may as well turn their thoughts to the law of nature as to the law of grace, if there is no difference betwixt the rule of nature and the law of Chriſt, with regard to the knowledge of God, the maker of heaven and earth, and the worſhip due to him on that account, and the practice of virtue and morality.

[155]In the next place, if I underſtand you right, the grace of God is of no uſe at all in religion, as you account for ſalvation. What is out of order within us, in the mind and its faculties, the will and its affections, and wants to be ſet right in good thoughts and works, our own reaſon, in your notion of religion, is ſufficient to regulate, and unaſſiſted by the illumination of the holy ſpirit of God, we may live in an uncorrupted ſtate of piety and morality, and ſo ſave our ſouls, if we pleaſe. This is what I cannot believe. The grace of God in the goſpel is the glory and comfort of the chriſtian religion. A divine operation that renews and ſanctifies the mind is an invaluable bleſſing, and in a manner inexpreſſibly charming, ſatisfies me beyond heſitation, that the chriſtian religion is true, while it puts me in the actual poſſeſſion of the good effects of it. The ſpirit of God diſcovers to me the ſtate of my own mind, in all the circumſtances of a chriſtian life, ſets my follies, my neglects, and my failings, in order before me, which is the firſt right ſtep in order to the overcoming them; and then obſerving the diſcoveries I was not able to make my ſelf, and having a ſtrong faith in the divine power and ſufficiency, I am enabled to gain victories my inſufficient reaſon could never obtain. May this divine monitor then abide in my breaſt. It is by the heavenly aſſiſtance [156]of the holy ſpirit only, as vouchſafed in the chriſtian diſpenation, that I can ſecure for myſelf eternal life. The wiſe and prudent of this world may think as they pleaſe of this matter, and produce reaſonings againſt it beyond my power to anſwer; but for my part, I muſt conſider it as the principle of my ſalvation, and think I cannot be thankful enough for the ineſtimable bleſſing. It is to me a glorious inſtance of the great wiſdom and goodneſs of God.

Madam, (I replyed) in relation to your firſt objection, that I make no difference between reveled and natural religion, for nature is as ſufficient as grace, in my account, I aſſure you that I think the revelation of the goſpel excels the beſt ſcheme of natural religion that could be propoſed; in declaring the terms of reconcilement, in demonſtrating the divine wrath againſt ſin, in the method of ſhewing mercy by the death of God's beloved Son, and the promiſe of free pardon on the condition of repentance and newneſs of life. This manner gives unſpeakable comfort to repenting ſinners. It gives the greateſt encouragement to engage them to the love of God and the practice of all his commandments; an encouragement that reaſon could not diſcover. To chriſtianity therefore the true preference is due. Tho' philoſophy or the doctrine of reaſon may reform men, yet the chriſtian religion [157]is a clearer and more powerful guide. It improves the light of reaſon by the ſupernatural evidence and declaration of God's will, and the means of man's redemption is a more efficacious motive and obligation to univerſal obedience than nature could ever with certainty propoſe. A revelation that has the cleareſt and ſtrongeſt evidence of being the divine will, muſt be the moſt eaſy and effectual method of inſtruction, and be more noticed than the beſt human teaching: and this will of God being truly and faithfully committed to writing, and preſerved uncorrupt, muſt always be the beſt and ſureſt rule of faith and manners. It is a rule abſolutely free from all thoſe errors and ſuperſtitions, both of belief and practice, which no human compoſure was ever before free from, or, probably, would have been free from, without the aſſiſtance of ſuch a revelation. Nor is this all. This is not the only ſuperior excellence of our holy religion.

A Mediator and crucified Redeemer brought into the Chriſtian revelation, has a noble effect on a conſidering mind, and ſhews the reaſonableneſs of the goſpel-diſpenſation. The wiſeſt and moſt rational heathens ever were for ſacrifices and mediators, as the greatneſs of God was thereby declared, and that not only ſin deſerved puniſhment, but mens lives to be forfeited by their breach of [158]the divine laws: and when a divine perſon, made man, like unto us, appears inſtead of all other mediators, by whom, as the inſtrument of the means of ſalvation, we are to offer up our prayers to the Only true God; and his voluntary dying in teſtimony of the truth of his miſſion and doctrine, is appointed to be inſtead of all other ſacrifices, and to remain a memorial that God requires no atonement of us, but repentance and newneſs of life; and the ſpotleſs virtues and obedience of this divine Redeemer, are to be a moſt perfect and moving example for us to imitate;—this renders chriſtianity worthy of God, and makes it the perfection of religion. Great then are the advantages which the Revelation of Chriſt Jeſus has above mere reaſon, darkened by the clouds of error and a general corruption. It is the moſt perfect rule of life. It is the moſt powerful means to promote a conſtant uniform practice of virtue and piety. It advances human nature to its higheſt perfection, fills it with all the fruits of righteouſneſs, and grants us privileges and bleſſings far ſuperior to what we could attain any other way.

With regard to the ſecond objection, that I take away the grace of God, to preſerve the dignity of human nature, this is far from my intention. I do indeed think, that as the Goſpel was given for [159]the nobleſt purpoſe; to wit, to call in an extraordinary manner upon mankind, to forſake that vice and idolatry, the corrupt creed of polytheiſm, the guilt of ſuperſtition, their great iniquities, violent paſſions, and worldly affections, which are all contrary to reaſon, and diſgrace human nature; and to practiſe that whole ſyſtem of morality, which they muſt know to be moſt uſeful to them;—that they might turn to a religion which had but One object, the Great Inviſible Being, all-knowing and all-ſufficient, to whom all the intelligent world are to make their devout applications; becauſe he is an infinite, independent, ſovereign mind, who has created all things, and abſolutely rules and governs all; poſſeſſes all natural perfections, exiſts in all duration, fills all ſpace with his preſence, and is the omniſcient witneſs of all their difficulties and wants;—and that ſince they were bound by all the ties of moral duty to obey this one God, and obſerve the rational inſtitutions of religion, therefore they ſhould make it the labor of their whole lives to excel in holineſs and righteouſneſs, and by virtue and piety unite themſelves to God, and entitle themſelves to glory at the great day: —That as this is the nature, end, and deſign of the chriſtian revelation, ſo I do think the goſpel of our ſalvation, the word of truth, (as an apoſtle calls it) is ſufficient for the [160]purpoſe, without immediate impulſes. As we have a reaſonable, intellectual nature, there is no want of mechanical powers. The words of Chriſt, which are the words of God, are, our life, and will, if attended to, and powerfully enable us to practiſe good works, and to excel, and perſevere therein. I can do all theſe things, through Chriſt, who ſtrengtheneth me, that is, through the written directions of Chriſt, and through the arguments and motives of the chriſtian doctrine. To ſay otherwiſe of the goſpel, is, in my opinion, injurious to it.

God may, to be ſure, give ſpecial aids to men, whenever he thinks fit. He may, by an extraordinary agency, render our faculties more capable of apprehenſion, where divine things are concerned:—may awaken a dormant idea, which lay neglected in the memory, with unuſual energy;—may ſecretly attract the more attentive regard of the mind, and give it an inclination and an ability of tracing its various relations, with an unuſual attention, ſo that a luſtre before quite unknown ſhall be (as it were) poured upon it; —the ſpirit of God may render the mind more ſuſceptible and more tenacious of divine knowledge; I believe he often does by interpoſition, if in the ſpirit of Chriſt's doctrine we aſk it of the great Father of Lights, the Author of all the underſtanding divided [161]among the various ranks of created Beings; who, as he firſt formed the minds of angels and men, continues the exerciſe of their intellectual faculties, and one way or another communicates to them all the knowledge of every kind which they poſſeſs; (in which view all our knowledge of every kind may be called a revelation from God, and be aſcribed, as it is by Elihu in Job, to the inſpiration of the Almighty:) This the holy Spirit may do, and diſſipate a prejudice that oppoſes truth. But this is not always neceſſary: nor always to be expected. It is evident from the goſpel, that our Lord rather ſpeaks of his word and doctrine, as the aids to ſave mens ſouls, than of himſelf, or ſpirit, perſonally conſidered. Abiding in him, and he in them, as neceſſary to their bearing fruit, ſignifies a ſtrict and ſteady regard to his word, and the influence of that upon our minds. If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you; ye ſhall aſk what ye will, and it ſhall be done unto you: that is, If you continue to believe in me, and to pay a ſteady regard to my doctrine, you will be highly acceptable to God.

In ſhort, as no man can come unto me (ſays our Lord), except the Father which hath ſent me draw him: that is, no man will receive my pure, ſublime, and ſpiritual doctrine, unleſs he have firſt gained ſome juſt apprehenſions concerning the general principles of religion: but if he has a good notion of [162]God and his perfections, and deſires to advance in virtue, he will come unto me, and hearken to that revelation, which contains the beſt directions for the performance of all the duties, and the greateſt incitement to virtue, piety and devotion:—ſo, no man can come to the Father but by the Son, that is, by obeying the written word, and proceeding in that way in which the Son has declared it to be the will of the Father, that men ſhould come to him, namely, by keeping God's commandments, and by repentance and amendment of life; there being no other name, or way given among men, but this way given or declared by Jeſus Chriſt, by which they may be ſaved.—In all this, there is not a word of ſupernatural light or operation; tho' ſuch operation, as before obſerved, there may be. There is not a hint of man's natural inability.

To the glorious Goſpel then, the goſpel of our ſalvation, the word of truth, the word of life, let us come, and with diligence and impartiality ſtudy it. Let us follow the truth we there find in every page, and it will enable us to triumph over the temptations of allurement and of terror. We ſhall become the children of God by the ſpirit of adoption. We ſhall be eaſy and happy in this life, and glorious and ever bleſſed in that which is to come. If we obey the goſpel of the Son of God, and hearken to his word, [163]he will take us under his guardian care. He deſcended from Heaven, to deliver us from everlaſting ruin, he purchaſed us with the price of his own blood, and if we live up to the word of truth, he will conduct us ſafely through life and death, into the abode of holy and happy ſpirits, and at length raiſe our bodies from the duſt, and fix our compleat perſons in a ſtate of immortal glory and felicity.—This is my ſenſe of religion. Where I am wrong, I ſhall ever be glad to be ſet right.

Mrs. Price made no reply, and ſo ended this remarkable converſation. On whoſe ſide the truth is, the reader is to judge. What ſhe ſays for ſupernatural operation is ſtrong and pious to be ſure: and conſidering Mrs. Price had no learning, and was almoſt without any reading, I thought it very wonderful to hear her on this, and many other ſubjects. She was ſuch another genius as Chubb, but on the other ſide of the queſtion; if ſhe had been able to write as ſenſibly and correctly as ſhe talked on ſeveral articles of religion, ſhe would have made a good author. So much goodneſs and good ſenſe I have not very often found in her kind. They merit a memorial in a journal of the curious things that have occurred to me in my life time.

28. My departure from Laſco in Stanemore, a farther deſcription of this wild and ſolitary part of the world.

The 13th of June 1725, I took my leave of my friend, John Price, and his admirable wife, promiſing to viſit them again as [164]ſoon as it was in my power, and proceeded on my journey in queſt of Mr. Turner. I would not let Price go with me, on ſecond thoughts, as many ſad accidents might happen in this rough and deſolate part of the world, and no relief in ſuch caſe to be found. If I fell, there was no one belonging to me to ſhed a tear for me: but if a miſchief ſhould befall Jack Price, his wife would be miſerable indeed, and I the maker of a breach in the ſweeteſt ſyſtem of felicity that love and good ſenſe had ever formed. This made me refuſe his repeated offers to accompany me. All I would have was a boy and horſe of his, to carry ſome proviſions wet and dry, as there was no public houſe to be found in aſcending thoſe tremendous hills, or in the deep vales through which I muſt go; nor any houſe that he knew of beyond his own.

With the riſing ſun then I ſet out, and was charmed for ſeveral hours with the air and views. The mountains, the rocky precipices, the woods and the waters, appeared in various ſtriking ſituations every mile I travelled on, and formed the moſt aſtoniſhing points of view. Sometimes I was above the clouds, and then crept to inchanting vallies below. Here glins were ſeen that looked as if the mountains had been rent aſunder to form the amazing ſcenes: and there, foreſts and falling ſtreams covered the ſides of the hills. Rivers in many places, in the moſt [165]beautiful caſcades, were tumbling along; and cataracts from the tops of mountains came roaring down. The whole was grand, wonderful, and fine. On the top of one of the mountains I paſſed over at noon; the air was piercing cold, on account of its great height, and ſo ſubtle, that we breathed with difficulty, and were a little ſick. From hence I ſaw ſeveral black ſubjacent clouds big with thunder, and the lightning within them rolled backwards and forwards, like ſhining bodies of the brighteſt luſtre. One of them went off in the grandeſt horrors through the vale below, and had no more to do with the pike I was on than if it had been a ſummit in another planet. The ſcene was prodigious fine. Sub pedibus ventos & rauca tonitrua calcat.

Till the evening, I rid and walked it, and in numberleſs windings round unpaſſable hills, and by the ſides of rivers it was impoſſible to croſs, journeyed a great many miles: but no human creature, or any kind of houſe, did I meet with in all the long way, and as I arrived at laſt at a beautiful lake, whoſe banks the hand of nature had adorned with vaſt old trees, I ſat down by this water in the ſhade to dine, on a neat's tongue I had got from good Mrs. Price; and was ſo delighted with the ſtriking beauties and ſtillneſs of the place, that I determined to paſs the night in this ſweet retreat. Nor was it one [166]night only, if I had my will, that I would have reſted there. Often did I wiſh for a convenient little lodge by this ſweet water ſide, and that with the numerous ſwans, and other fowl that lived there, I might have ſpent my time in peace below, till I was removed to the eſtabliſhed ſeat of happineſs above.

29. A reflection.

Had this been poſſible, I ſhould have avoided many an affliction, and had known but few of thoſe expectations and diſappointments, which render life a ſcene of emptineſs, and bitterneſs itſelf. My years would have rolled on in peace and wiſdom, in this ſequeſtered, delightful ſcene, and my ſilent meditations had been productive of that good temper and good action, which the reſurrection of the dead, the diſſolution of the world, the judgment day, and the eternal ſtate of men, require us to have. Free from the various perplexities, and troubles I have experienced by land and ſea, in different parts of the world, I ſhould have lived, in this paradice of a place, in the enjoyment of that fine happineſs, which eaſy country buſineſs and a ſtudious life afford; and might have made a better preparation for that hour which is to diſunite me, and let my inviſible ſpirit depart to the ſhades of eternity. Happy they, who in ſome ſuch rural retirement, can employ ſome uſeful hours every day in the management of a little comfortable farm, and devote [167]the greater portion of their time to ſacred knowledge, Heavenly piety, and angelick goodneſs; which cannot be diſſolved when the thinker goes, nor be confined to the box of obſcurity, under the clods of the earth: but will exiſt in our ſouls for ever, and enable us to depart in peace to the happy regions. This has ever made me prefer a retired country life, when it was in my power to enjoy it. But be it town or country, the main buſineſs, my good readers, ſhould be to ſecure an inheritance in that eternal world, where the ſanctified live with God and his Chriſt. Getting, keeping, multiplying money; dreſs, pleaſure, entry; are not only little things for ſuch beings as we are: they are indeed ſad principal work for creatures that are paſſing away to an everlaſting ſtate; there to lament their loſt day, and talents miſapplied, in dreadful agonies, in the habitations of darkneſs; —or, to remain for ever in the habitations of light, peace, and joy; if you have laboured to obtain, and improve in the graces and virtuous qualities which the goſpel recommends. Theſe are the treaſure and poſſeſſion worth a chriſtian's acquiring. Theſe only are portable into the eternal world; when the body that was cloathed in purple and fine linen, and fared ſumptuouſly every day, is laid in a cold and narrow cave. Take my advice then, reader. Be ready. Let us ſo think and act in this firſt ſtate, that in the next, we [168]may meet in the regions of purity and righteouſneſs, ſerenity and joy.

30. An account of an extraordinary effuſion of water from a mountain.

The lake I have mentioned was the largeſt I had ſeen in this wild part, being above a mile in length, and more than half a mile broad; and the water that filled it, burſt with the greateſt impetuoſity from the inſide of a rocky mountain, that is very wonderful to behold. It is a vaſt craggy precipice, that aſcends till it is almoſt out of ſight, and by its gloomy and tremendous air, ſtrikes the mind with a horror that has ſomething pleaſing in it. This amazing cliff ſtands perpendicular at one end of the lake, at the diſtance of a few yards, and has an opening at the bottom, that is wide enough for two coaches to enter at once, if the place was dry. In the middle of it, there is a deep channel, down which the water ruſhes with a mighty ſwiftneſs and force, and on either ſide, the ſtone riſes a yard above the impetuous ſtream. The aſcent is eaſy, flat and plane. How far it goes, I know not, being afraid to aſcend more than forty yards; not only on account of the terrors common to the place, from the fall of ſo much water with a ſtrange kind of roar, and the height of the arch which covers the torrent all the way; but becauſe as I went up, there was of a ſudden, an encreaſe of noiſe ſo very terrible, that my heart failed me, and a trembling [169]almoſt diſabled me. The rock moved under me, as the frightful ſounds encreaſed, and as quick as it was poſſible for me, I came into day again. It was well I did; for I had not been many minutes out, before the water overflowed its channel, and filled the whole opening in ruſhing to the lake. The increaſe of the water, and the violence of the diſcharge, were an aſtoniſhing ſight. I had a great eſcape.

31. The cauſe of the eruption of water from the inſide of the mountain, and its ſudden encreaſe.

As the rocky mountain I have mentioned, is higher than either Snowden in North-Wales, or Kedar-Idris in Merionethſhire, (which have been thought the higheſt mountains in this iſland), that is, it is full a mile and an half high from the baſis, as I found by aſcending it with great toil on the ſide that was from the water, and the top was a flat dry rock, that had not the leaſt ſpring, or piece of water on it, how ſhall we account for the rapid flood that proceeded from its inſide? Where did this great water come from?—I anſwer, might it not flow from the great abyſs — and the great encreaſe of it, and the fearful noiſe, and the motion of the rock, be owing to ſome violent commotion in the abyſs, occaſioned by ſome natural or ſupernatural cauſe?

32. The origin of earthquakes.

That there is ſuch an abyſs, no one can doubt that believes revelation, and from reaſon and hiſtory it is credible, that there are violent concuſſions on this vaſt collection [170]of water, by the divine appointment: and therefore, I imagine it is from thence the water of this mountain proceeds, and the great overflowing and terrifying ſound at certain times. To this motion of the abyſs, by the divine power exerted on it, I aſcribe the earthquakes; and not to vapor, or electricity. As to electricity, which Dr. Stukeley makes the cauſe of the deplorable downfall of Liſbon Nov. 1. 1755., in his book lately publiſhed, (called, The Philoſophy of Earthquakes), there are many things to be objected againſt its being the origin of ſuch calamities:—one objection is, and it is an inſuperable one, that electrical ſhocks are ever momentary, by every experiment, but earthquakes are felt for ſeveral minutes. Another is, that many towns have been ſwallowed up in earthquakes, tho' Liſbon was only overthrown. Such was the caſe of the city of Callao, within two leagues of Lima. Tho' Lima was only tumbled into ruins, October 28, 1746; yet Callao ſunk downright, with all its inhabitants, and an unfathomable ſea now covers the fineſt port in Peru, as I have ſeen on the ſpot.— In the earthquake at Jamaica, June 7, 1692, in which ſeveral thouſands periſhed, it is certain, that not only many houſes, and a great number of people, were intirely ſwallowed up; but that, at many of the gapings or openings of the earth, torrents of water that formed great rivers, iſſued forth. This [171]I had from a man of veracity then on the ſpot, who was an eye-witneſs of theſe things, and expected himſelf every minute to deſcend to the bowels of the earth, which heaved and ſwelled like a rolling ſea. Now to me the electrical ſtroke does not appear ſufficient to produce theſe things. The power of electricity, to be ſure is vaſt and amazing. It may cauſe great tremors and undulations of the earth, and bring down all the buildings of a great city: but as to ſplitting the earth to great depths, and forcing up torrents of water, where there was no ſign of the fluid element before, I queſtion much if the vehemence of the elemental electric fire does this.—Beſide, when mountains and cities ſink into the earth, and the deepeſt lakes are now ſeen to fill all the place where they once ſtood, as has been the caſe in many countries, where could theſe mighty waters come, but from the abyſs?—The great lake Oroquantur in Pegu, was once a vaſt city. In Jamaica, there is a large deep lake where once a mountain ſtood.—In an earthquake in China, in the province of Sanci, deluges of water burſt out of the earth, Feb. 7, 1556, and inundated the country for 180 miles. Many more inſtances of this kind I might produce, excluſive of Sodom, the ground of which was inundated by an irruption of waters from beneath, (which now forms the dead ſea) after the [172]city was deſtroyed by fire from above; that the land which had been defiled with the unnatural luſts of the inhabitants might be no more inhabited, but remain a laſting monument of the divine vengeance on ſuch crimes, to the end of the world: and the uſe I would make of thoſe I have mentioned, is to ſhew, that theſe mighty waters were from the furious concuſſion of the abyſs that cauſed the earthquakes. Electricity, I think, can never make ſeas and vaſt lakes to be where there were none before. Locherne, in the county of Fermanagh, in the province of Ulſter in Ireland, is thirty three miles long, and fourteen broad, and as the old Iriſh chronicle informs us, was once a place where large and populous towns appeared, till for the great iniquity of the inhabitants, the people and their fair habitations were deſtroyed in an earthquake, and mighty waters from the earth covered the place, and formed this lake. Could the electrical ſtroke produce this ſea that was not to be found there before the deſtruction? Is it not more reaſonable to ſuppoſe, that ſuch vaſt waters have been forced by a ſupernatural commotion from the great abyſs, in the earthquake that deſtroyed the towns which once ſtood in this place?

To this then, (till I am better informed), I muſt aſcribe ſuch earthquakes as produce great rivers and lakes: and where no waters appear, I believe the earthquakes are cauſed [173]by the immediate finger of God; either operating on the abyſs, tho' not ſo as to make the water break out on the earth; or by directing the electrical violence or ſtroke; or otherwiſe acting on the ruined cities and ſhattered places.

33. A reflexion on ſecond cauſes, and the Deity's being not only at the head of nature, but in every part of it.

For my part, I think it is a grievous miſtake in our philoſophical enquiries, to aſſign ſo much to ſecond cauſes as the learned do. The government of the univerſe is given to matter and motion, and under pretence of extolling original contrivance, the execution of all is left to dead ſubſtance. It is juſt and reaſonable (even Newton and Maclaurin ſay) to ſuppoſe that the whole chain of cauſes, or the ſeveral ſeries of them, ſhould center in him, as their ſource and fountain; and the whole ſyſtem appear depending upon him, the only independent cauſe. Now to me this ſuppoſition does not appear either juſt or reaſonable. I think the noble phoenomena of nature ought to be aſcribed to the immediate operation of the Deity. Without looking for a ſubtile elaſtic medium, to produce gravity; which medium Sir Iſaac confeſſes he had no proof of; nor is there in reality ſuch a thing in the univerſe; I imagine the divine Newton would have done better, if, after eſtabliſhing the true ſyſtem of nature, by demonſtrating the law of gravity, he had ſaid this gravity was the conſtant and undeniable evidence of the immediate influence [174]of the Deity in the material univerſe. A ſeries of material cauſes betwixt Deity and Effect, is, in truth, concealing him from the knowledge of mortals for ever. In the moral government of the world, ſecond cauſes do, becauſe free-agents act a part; but, in the material univerſe to apply them, to me ſeems improper, as matter and motion only, that is, mechaniſm, come in competition with the Deity. Moſt certainly he conſtantly interpoſes. The Divine Power is perpetually put forth throughout all nature. Every particle of matter, muſt neceſſarily, by its nature, for ever go wrong, without the continued act of Deity. His everlaſting interpoſition only can cauſe a body moving in a circle to change the direction of its motion in every point. Nor is it poſſible for ſubtile matter, the ſuppoſed cauſe of gravity, to know to impel bodies to a center, with quadruple force at half the diſtance.

And as in gravity, and in the coheſion of the parts of matter, the Deity is, and acts in the motion of the celeſtial bodies, and in the reſiſtance the leaſt particles make to any force that would ſeparate them; ſo is his immediate power, I think for myſelf, exerted not only in earthquakes and tides, but in the circulations of the blood, lymph, and chyle, in muſcular motion, and in various other phoenomena that might be named. Books I know have been written, and ingenious [175]books they are, to ſhew the cauſes of theſe things, and trace the ways they are performed by the materials themſelves: but theſe explications never ſatisfied me. I had as many queſtions to aſk, after reading theſe books, as I had before I looked into them, and could find no operator but infinite power conducted by infinite wiſdom.

The periodical motions of the waters of the ſea, owing to immaterial power. As to the force of the moon, in raiſing tides, and, that ſpring tides are produced by the ſum of the actions of the two luminaries, when the moon is in Syzygy, there is a deal of fine mathematical reaſoning to prove it, which the reader may find in Dr. Halley's abſtract of Sir Iſaac Newton's theory of the tides; and in Dr. Rutherforth's ſyſtem of natural philoſophy: but nevertheleſs, the concomitance of water and luminary, or the revolutions of ocean and moon anſwering one another ſo exactly, that the flow always happens when the moon hangs over the ocean, and the ſpring tides when it is nearer the earth, which is ſuppoſed to be in the new and full moon;—this does not prove to me, that the periodical flux and reflux of the ſea is derived from mechaniſm. As we have two ebbs and two flows in twenty-four hours, and the moon comes but once in that time to our meridian, how can the ſecond ebb and flow be aſcribed to it? and when, beneath the horizon, in the oppoſite hemiſphere, the moon croſſes the meridian again, is it credible, that [176]from the eaſtern and ſouthern ocean, round Good-Hope and Cape-Horn, it ſhould as ſoon overflow our coaſts, as when it is vertical to the ſhores of Guinea? — If the moon (in conjunction with the ſun) by preſſion and attraction, was the principal cauſe of flux and reflux, why is there no eſtabliſhed tide on the Mediterranean-Sea, though of a vaſt breadth, and two thouſand miles in length from the Streights of Gibraltar to the coaſts of Syria and Paleſtine; but only ſome irregular and unaccountable ſwellings and falls in a few places of this ſea, to wit, at Tunis, Meſſina, Venice, and Negropont; and theſe ſwellings, as I have ſeen, flowing ſometimes 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 times in 24 hours; in the moſt irregular manner; againſt the fixed laws of preſſion and attraction, aſcribed to the moon and ſun, on a ſuppoſition of their cauſing the tides? — If preſſion, and the ſtrong attractive power of the moon, and the weaker influence of the ſun, forces the immenſe ocean twice a day from its natural quietus, and rolls it in tides, why has the Caſpian Sea no Tide; no ſwelling or flow, reregular or irregular, excepting that ſometimes, in the ſpace of 16 years, and never ſooner, it riſes many fathoms, and drowns the adjacent country; to the almoſtruin, ſometimes, of Aſtracan in Aſiatick Ruſſia; as happened when I was there to embark for Perſia? — If it be ſaid, that this is properly a lake, having [177]no communication with the ocean; yet, I anſwer, that it is in every quality of ſaltneſs, etc. as much a ſea as any other ſea; and large enough for the luminaries attraction and preſſion; being 500 miles from north to ſouth, and near 400 miles in breadth from eaſt to weſt: I ſay, large enough to avoid continuing neceſſarily in equilibrio, as Dr. Rutherforth ſays muſt be the caſe, on account of the ſmall extent of this ſea. 500 by 400 miles of ſea does not require that ſuch a ſea ſhould preſs equally, or that the gravity of its water ſhould be equally diminiſhed in every part of it, and ſo out of the powers, addititious and ablatitious, of the luminary; that is, the force, with which the moon encreaſes the waters gravity, and the force, with which the moon diminiſhes the waters gravity. If the moon in zenith or nadir did the work, the equilibrium of the the Caſpian might be deſtroyed, as well as any other equilibrium of water, by force, addititious or ablatitious, or by the ſum of theſe forces: therefore, there might, by this theory, be tides in the Caſpian ſea, tho' not great ones. There are ſmall as well as great tides. The tides of the Atlantic ocean are inferior in every reſpect to thoſe of the larger Pacific ocean. A quarter of a great circle of the earth, that is, an extent of ocean from eaſt to weſt 90°, is only [178]required, that the tides may have their full motion. A tide of leſs motion may be in ſuch an extent of ſea as the Caſpian.

In the laſt place, how does the theory of tides account for the regular peculiarity of the flux and reflux of the Atlantic, different from all other tides; while at Bathſha in the kingdom of Tunquin, there never is more than one tide in 24 hours; and ſome days, no tide? — For my part, I reſolve the whole into the immediate power of the Deity. This power is gravity, attraction, repulſe. The inactivity of matter requires the conſtancy and univerſality of divine power to ſupport the material univerſe, and move it as occaſion requires; that is, as infinite wiſdom ſees moſt conducive to the benefit of his creation.

Earthquakes the effect of immaterial cauſes. Men of fine imagination may make a wonderful diſplay of mathematical learning in accounts of gravity, etc. combined with the principles of mechaniſm; and electricity, which is called the immediate officer of God Almighty; but the truth is, a conſtant repetition of divine acts in regular and irregular motions of the earth and the ſeas. The finger of God moves the land and the waters.

In the caſe of earthquakes, as electricity, or aerial power, is inſufficient to produce them, in my opinion, for two reaſons before given; to wit, that the electrical ſtroke is ever ſingle and momentary, but the vibrations [179]of the earth, in a quake, are often 3 and 4 minutes, and have held to 7 minutes — and that, beſides the ſwelling and trembling of the earth, it has ſo opened at thoſe times, as to ſwallow not only houſes and people, but even mountains, and to ſend forth great rivers and vaſt waters. And, as ſubterranean fire and vapor, I think, can never do ſuch work, for many reaſons that may be offered, we muſt, I think, aſcribe the earthquakes to the immediate impreſſion of divine power; by which a city is tumbled into ruins in three or four minutes, in the ſad manner Liſbon was deſtroyed the firſt of November, 1755. or, the water of the great abyſs is with ſuch violence moved, that it ſhakes the arches of the earth, and where infinite wiſdom directs, is enabled by Almighty Power to open the globe with tremendous noiſes, and pour forth vaſt torrents of water, to cover a land where once a flouriſhing city has ſtood. The electric ſtroke cannot be more dreadful than ſuch exertion of omnipotence. The immediate action of the Deity, to deſtroy, muſt be as efficacious ſurely as any ſubordinate agent or cauſe: and it muſt be more terrible to the mind, as there can be no ſuppoſition of accident in ruin this way: but we ſee as it were the almighty arm, exerting an irreſiſtible force, that could in the ſame few moments [180]that a large town and its inhabitants are deſtroyed, ſhake the whole world into one dreadful ruin, or ſeparate it into nothing. To my apprehenſion, the aerial power of electricity is not ſo fearfully ſtriking, as the Creator's appearing, on the ſpot, to ſhake terribly the earth: and if we conſider, that it is on account of ſin, that God reſigns his omnipotence to his wrath, and commands his whole diſpleaſure to ariſe, muſt not this account of an earthquake have the greateſt tendency to reform the manners of the ſurviving people?

An account of muſcular motion; and that it is cauſed by a continued act of the Deity. As to muſcular motion, if it be rightly conſidered, it appears very plainly to proceed from a living force, impreſſed ab extra; that mechaniſm does not act as cauſe in this affair; but the divine power acts in the caſe, as it does in many different places of the human body at once, and with inexpreſſible variety.

Various are the accounts that learned men have given of muſcular motion, and ingenious are their reaſonings on the ſubject: but they are not ſatisfactory, nor do they at all explain the thing, and account for it. What is a muſcle?

It is to be ſure a bundle of ſmall blood veſſels, conſiſting of arteries and their returning veins, laid one upon another in their parallel plates, running thro' the whole length of the muſcle; and at ſmall intervals, theſe [181]blood veſſels, or longitudinal, red, and fleſhy fibres, are contorted and bound about with ſmall, tranſverſe, and ſpiral ramifications and twinings of the nerves. This is a muſcle: it has two ends, or tendons, faſtened to two bones, one of which is fixed, and the other moveable; and by the contraction of the muſcle, the moveable bone is drawn upon its fulcrum towards a fixed point. This is indiſputable; and it is likewiſe certain, that the muſcles are to be diſtinguiſhed into thoſe of voluntary, and thoſe of natural or neceſſary motion: that the voluntary muſcles have antagoniſts, which act alternately in a contrary direction, that is, are contracted by the command of the will, while the others are ſtretched, and again are extended, while the others are contracted: but the neceſſary muſcles have contracting and extending powers within themſelves, and need no antagoniſts.

This being the true ſtate of the muſcles, the queſtion is, what cauſes that elaſticity, ſpring, or power of contraction and reſtoration, which their nervous coats and fibres have, to recover themſelves againſt a given weight or force that ſtretches them? The reply is, that many unanſwerable reaſons can be given to prove, that this contractive reſtitutive force does not depend on the mixture, efferveſcence, or rarefaction of any fluids, [182]humours, or liquors within the body; and there is one convincing experiment that ſhews it.

Lay open the thorax of a dog, (as I have often done) and take a diſtinct view of that famous muſcle, the heart, in its curious and wonderful motion, while the animal is ſtill alive. In diaſtole, the muſcle is very red and florid, ſoft and yielding to the touch, and thro' it the vital fluid glows and ſhines; it appears in this ſtate fully repleniſhed and diſtended with blood: but in ſyſtole, as ſoon as it begins to contract, and the blood ruſhes out by the compreſſion of the contracting fibres, the heart loſes its florid colour, and becomes pale and livid, compact and ſolid, and evinces that, during this ſtate of it, the muſcle contracts inwardly into its own denſe ſubſtance, and takes up leſs ſpace than before, till it returns to its diaſtole: then the blood which flowed from it with velocity, during ſyſtole thro' the coronary veins into the auricles, ruſhes back into it thro' the coronary arteries, reſtores the glowing florid colour, and inflates the muſcle, in order to ſtrain the nerves for the next contraction. It is plain from hence, that the heart has leſs blood and fluid in time of contraction, and that the contraction is not cauſed by the addition of another fluid from the nerves, as the learned have aſſerted.

[183]And as to what they ſay of the longitudinal fibres being divided into innumerable little cells or bladders, which have communications with the blood veſſels and nerves, and that in theſe veſicles, the blood and nervous fluid mix, ferment, and by rarefaction and expanſion, ſwell and blow up the cells, and thereby inflate and diſtend the muſcle, and increaſe its thickneſs, while its length is ſhortned:—this is ſo perplexed and unreaſonable an hypotheſis, that I am aſtoniſhed how men of ſenſe ever came to think of ſuch a doctrine. There is no ſuch nervous fluid to be found, to cauſe this fermentation, rarefaction, etc; and if there was, expanſive force muſt lengthen as well as thicken, and the muſcle could not be ſhortned in length, and ſwelled in thickneſs. The natural action of the fluids upon the ſolids is, to increaſe dimenſions proportionably every way, that is, in the direction of the axis and conjugate diameter equally. Beſide, if there was expanſion, circulation muſt ſtop. The diſtention of the veſicles, and the rapid exit of the rarifying fluid could not be at once.

The plain account of the matter is then, that muſcular motion is performed by the elaſticity of the nervous fibrillae, contracting and reſtoring themſelves againſt the ſtretching force of the circulating blood. The contraction of the muſcle ſtraitens and compreſſes the bloodveſſels, [184]and forces the blood with impetuoſity thro' the heart; and this ſqueezing or propelling force gives the fluid an impetus, that makes it return with violence upon the muſcle, in the courſe of its circulation; then by force and impulſe, it ſtretches the tranſverſe and ſpiral nervous fibres, and ſo extends the contracted muſcle, that drove it by contraction from itſelf. Upon this, the bloodveſſels having obtained their due extent and capacity, the diſtending force of the blood of conſequence ceaſes: but the moment it does, the contractive power of the nerves begins to act again, and reſtores them to a contracted denſe ſtate, by a force exactly equal to that which extended them; till the returning propelled blood re-enters the muſcle, and ſtretches it again, as before deſcribed. Such are the two wonderful counter-forces that produce the natural involuntary motion of the heart, and carry on the circulation of the blood. You ſee with your eyes, in the opened live dog, this alternate contraction and extenſion; and as the ſtretching power is but a conſequence of the contracting power, contraction is the ſpring of this wonderful action, in which our will or free agency has no concern. And to what ſhall we aſcribe this aſtoniſhing operation, this amazing contractive power, ſo exactly as to time, and ſo conſtantly continued on the muſcles of natural [185]or neceſſary motion; till the aequilibrium by ſome means or other be broken, and the motion is preternaturally interrupted and ſuſpended? Will the great mechanical reaſoners ſay, that matter does this wonder—matter, that is blind and impotent? Stuff: We muſt aſcribe to a cauſe wiſe and powerful, not only the original contrivance of the thing, but the execution of this extraordinary ſcene. While you gaze upon this nobleſt muſcle of the dog, you ſee the Deity at work.

And if we turn our eyes from the muſcles of mere natural involuntary motion, (which performs by a contracting power, acting within them), to thoſe muſcles which move the bones and members of our bodies, by the command of the will, how adorable is the wiſdom and goodneſs of the Almighty Author of nature, not only in providing the animal machine with antagoniſtical muſcles, one of which is contracted, while the other is extended; but for ſtimulating, contracting, and compreſſing the nervous elaſtic cords and blood-veſſels, as our minds command or determine! there is no poſſibility of accounting for the directions at pleaſure of the antagoniſtic muſcles, but by reſolving them into the continual preſence and action of the firſt cauſe. He enforces and executes. It is the active principle gives energy and motion both to voluntary and neceſſary muſcles. [186]This, I think, is the truth of philoſophy. To ſuppoſe every thing to be effect without cauſe, is to reduce religion and philoſophy to the ſame deſperate ſtate. It deſtroys all the principles of reaſon, as well as of virtue and moral conduct.

To ſay all that can be ſaid, in as few words as poſſible, upon this article, it is not only the muſcular motion, neceſſary and ſpontaneous (14) , that is cauſed by the action of the Deity; but the conſtant motions in the [187] ſtomach, lungs, inteſtines, and other parts of the body, are cauſed by an acting Divine Power. It can be demonſtrated, that in the action of ſoft bodies upon ſoft bodies, the motion is always diminiſhed; and of conſequence, it muſt be greatly leſſened in the yielding ſoftneſs of the fleſh and fluids of animal bodies. We ſee how ſoon water ſettles, after motion impreſt, by the bare attrition of its parts on one another; altho' it has no obſtacles to encounter, or narrow paſſages to move through. What then can we think of motion in ſuch narrow twining meanders, as veins, arteries, inteſtines, and lacteal veſſels, thro' which the fluids of animal bodies are conveyed to parts innumerable? while the blood, lymph, and chyle creep thro' ſuch narrow winding veſſels, the whole motion of thoſe fluids muſt be conſumed every inſtant by the attrition of their parts, and the force of conſequence be renewed every inſtant. Here is a perpetual miracle. The Divine Power urges on theſe fluids ten thouſand ways at once. Reaſon muſt confeſs a miraculous power indeſinently and variouſly put forth in our bodies; while ignorance and vanity in vain attempts to account mechanically for the circulation of thoſe fluids. We are not only fearfully and wonderfully formed in the womb, but fearfully and wonderfully [188]preſerved every minute! creating power never ceaſes (15) .

The concluſion of the matter is, that the plain argument for the exiſtence of a Deity, obvious to all, and carrying irreſiſtible conviction with it, is from the evident contrivance and fitneſs of things to one another, which we meet with through all the parts of the univerſe. There is no need of nice and ſubtile reaſoning in this matter: a manifeſt contrivance immediately ſuggeſts a contriver. It ſtrikes like a ſenſation, and artful reaſonings againſt it may puzzle us, but it is without ſhaking our belief. No perſon, for example, who knows the principles of opticks, and the ſtruture of the eye, can believe that it is formed without ſkill in that ſcience; or that the ear was formed without the knowledge of ſounds.—This is a juſt argument, and forces our aſſent. But the [189]great Maclaurin ſhould not have ſtopped here. The plain argument for the exiſtence of a Deity grows ſtronger, when we add to it what is as evident as divine contrivance, to wit, the conſtant interpoſition of God, to ſupport and move his creatures. Original contrivance in the works of the creation is adorable. We are certain, demonſtratively certain, that the heavens, the land, and the waters, and all the creatures in them contained, are the works of the living God: but it is the preſent performance that ſtrikes us like a ſenſation. With inexpreſſible pleaſure we ſee creating power with our eyes. Which ever way we turn them, we behold Almighty Power employed, and continually acting under the direction of infinite knowledge.

Since things are ſo, and all the works of nature, in the common voice of reaſon, declare the power and wiſdom of the Creator, and ſpeak his goodneſs in the innumerable mighty things he continually performs for our preſervation and happineſs, the contemplation of them ſhould warm our hearts with the Glory of the Almighty, and make us continually praiſe and adore that Almighty providence, which formed and ſuſtains not only the human race and this terreſtrial globe, but numberleſs other worlds and their inhabitants, that hang in infinite ſpace. Theſe [190]mighty things diſplayed, ought ſurely to produce the devouteſt prayers, and ſongs of praiſes in no common ſtrain; and eſpecially, if we add to thoſe works of nature, that ſecond creation, the ſtill greater work of grace. Such omnipotence in wiſdom and action, and ſuch amazing goodneſs as we ſee in the chriſtian goſpel, ſhould, I think, engage us to love and adore ſo great and good a Being as our Creator, and induce us to devote our lives to him.

For my part, when I conſider the mighty ſcene and proſpect of nature, and turn my thoughts from thence to God's word, that heavenly law, which directs our will and informs our reaſon, and teaches us in all things how to purſue our own happineſs, I am ſo ſtruck with a ſenſe of infinite wiſdom, goodneſs, and action, that I cannot help extolling the king of the univerſe for the greatneſs of his power and mercy, and am neceſſarily engaged in a ſcene of praiſe and devotion. Indeed the heart muſt be as hard and cold as marble, that does not glow, nor is inflamed with raviſhing love to the great Author of all things; after viewing with attention even one particular only in the works of nature, that material ſun, which now ſhines out with light and beauty to animate and refreſh the world; and in the creation of grace, that ſun of righteouſneſs, who ſheds forth the [191]choiceſt bleſſings of Heaven upon the inhabitants of the earth. Can we be ſilent, who behold and enjoy thoſe things! alaſs! too many can. Neither the Heavens, which declare the glory of God, nor the days of the goſpel, nor the righteouſneſs of the new law, are regarded by them. But the wiſe will ever join with all their hearts, in the moſt exalted prayer and praiſe, and adore the Giver of theſe good and perfect gifts; for all his bleſſings vouchſafed us; and eſpecially, for the charter of his pardon granted by his bleſſed Son, and the promiſes of everlaſting happineſs and glory in a life to come, reaſon muſt declare it juſt to offer up religious praiſe, and make the greateſt mental and moral improvement we can in this firſt ſtate.

34. An extraordinary loch on the top of a high mountain.

Another extraordinary thing I ſaw in the place I have mentioned, was a water on the top of a hill, which ſtood at the other end of the lake, and was full as high as the mountain, from the ſide of which, the water poured into the lake. This loch meaſured three quarters of a mile in length, and half a mile over. The water appeared as black as ink, but in a glaſs it was clear as other water, and bright in running down. It taſted ſweet and good. At one end, it runs over its rocky bank, and in ſeveral noiſy caſcades, falls down the face of the mountain to a deep bottom, where a river is formed, [192]that is ſeen for a conſiderable way, as it wanders along. The whole is a ſtriking ſcene. The ſwarthy loch, the noiſy deſcending ſtreams, clumps of aged trees on the mountain's ſide, and the various ſhoars and vallies below, afford an uncommon view. It was a fine change of ground, to aſcend from the beautiful lake, (encompaſſed with mountains, and adorned with trees) into which was poured from a gaping precipice, a torrent of ſtreams; and ſee from the reverſe of an oppoſite hill, an impetuous flood deſcending from the top to the fineſt points of view in the wildeſt glins below.

35. The cauſe of an unfathomable loch on the top of the mountain.

What line I had with me, for experiments on waters and holes, I applied to this loch, to diſcover the depth, but with 300 yards of whipcord my lead could reach no ground, and from thence, and the blackneſs of the water, and the great iſſuing ſtream, I concluded, juſtly I think, that it went down to the great abyſs, the vaſt treaſury of waters within the earth. Many ſuch unfathomable lochs as this have I ſeen on the ſummits of mountains in various parts of the world, and from them, I ſuppoſe, the greateſt part of that deluge of waters came that drowned the old world. This leads me to ſay ſomething of the flood.

36. Remarks on the deluge.

[193]

Many books have been written in relation to this affair, and while ſome contend for the overflowing of the whole earth to a very great height of waters—and ſome for a partial deluge only—others will not allow there was any at all. The divine authority of Moſes they diſregard. For my part, I believe the flood was univerſal, and that all the high hills and mountains under the whole heaven, were covered. The cauſe was forty days heavy rain, and ſuch an agitation of the abyſs, by the finger of God, as not only broke up the great deep, to pour out water at many places, but forced it out of ſuch bottomleſs lochs as this I am ſpeaking of on the mountains top, and from various ſwallows in many places. This removes every objection from the caſe of the deluge, and gives water enough in the ſpace of 150 days, or five months of 30 days each, to over-top the higheſt mountains by 15 cubits, the height deſigned. The abyſs in ſtrong commotion, or violent uproar, by a power divine, could ſhake the incumbent globe to pieces in a few minutes, and bury the whole ruins in the deep. To me, then, all the reaſoning againſt the deluge, or for a partial flood, appear ſad ſtuff. Were this one loch in Stanemore to pour out torrents of water, down every ſide, for five months, by a divine force on part of the abyſs, as it might very eaſily by ſuch means do, the inundation [194]would cover a great part of this land; and if from every loch of the kind on the ſummits of mountains, the waters in like manner, with the greateſt violence, flowed from every ſide out of the abyſs, and that excluſive of the heavy rains, an earthquake ſhould open ſome parts of the ground to let more water out of the great collection, and the ſeas and oceans ſurpaſs their natural bounds, by the winds forcing them over the earth, then would a univerſal flood very ſoon prevail. There is water enough for the purpoſe, and as to the ſupernatural aſcent of them, natural and ſupernatural are nothing at all different with reſpect to God. They are diſtinctions merely in our conceptions of things. Regularly to move the ſun or earth; and to ſtop its motion for a day;—to make the waters that covered the whole earth at the creation, deſcend into the ſeveral receptacles prepared for them; and at the deluge, to make them aſcend again to cover the whole earth, are the effect of one and the ſame Almighty Power; tho' we call one natural, and the other ſupernatural. The one is the effect of no greater power than the other. With reſpect to God, one is not more or leſs natural or ſupernatural than the other.

The means which drained off the waters of the deluge from the earth. But how the waters of the deluge were drawn off at the end of the five months, is another queſtion among the learned. The [195]ingenious Keile, who writ againſt the two ingenious Theoriſts, ſays the thing is not at all accountable in any natural way: the draining off, and drying of the earth, of ſuch a huge column of waters could only be effected by the power of God: natural cauſes both in decreaſe and the increaſe of the waters muſt have been vaſtly diſproportionate to the effects; and to miracles they muſt be aſcribed. —This, I think, is as far from the truth, as the Theoriſts aſcribing both increaſe and decreaſe to natural cauſes. God was the performer to be ſure in the flood and the going off, but he made uſe of natural cauſes in both, that is, of the things he had in the beginning created. The natural cauſes he is the author of were at hand, and with them he could do the work. The ſun evaporated; the winds dried; and the waters no longer forced upwards from the abyſs, ſubſided into the many ſwallows or ſwallow-holes, that are ſtill to be ſeen in many places, on mountains and in vallies; thoſe on the mountains being neceſſary to abſorb that vaſt column of waters which roſe 15 cubits above the higheſt hills.

A ſwallow is ſuch another opening in the ground as Eldine Hole in Derbyſhire (16) , and [196]in travelling from the Peak to the northern extremity of Northumberland, I have ſeen many ſuch holes in the earth, both on the hills and in the vales. I have likewiſe met with them in other countries. By theſe ſwallows, a vaſt quantity of the waters to be ſure went down to the great receptacle; all that was not exhaled, or licked up by the winds; or, except what might be left to encreaſe the former ſeas of the antediluvian world into thoſe vaſt oceans which now encompaſſes the globe, and partly to form thoſe vaſt lakes that are in ſeveral parts of the World. Theſe things eaſily account for the removal of that vaſt maſs of waters which covered the earth, and was in a mighty column above the higheſt hills. Every difficulty diſappears before evaporation, the drying winds, the ſwallows, and perhaps, the turning ſeas into oceans: but the three firſt things now [197]named were ſufficient, and the gentlemen who have reaſoned ſo ingeniouſly againſt one another about the removal of the waters, might have ſaved themſelves a deal of trouble, if they had reduced the operation to three ſimple things, under the direction of the Firſt Cauſe. The ſwallows eſpecially muſt do great work in the caſe, if we take into their number not only very many open gulphs or chaſms, the depth of which no line or ſound can reach; but likewiſe the communications of very many parts of the ſea, and of many great unfathomable lochs, with the abyſs. Theſe abſorbers could eaſily receive what had before come out of them. The ſun by evaporation, with the wind, might take away what was raiſed. There is nothing hard then in conceiving how the waters of the deluge were brought away.

But as to the lake I have mentioned, into which a rapid flood poured from the bowels of the mountain, what became of this water the reader may inquire? To be ſure, as it did not run off in any ſtreams, nor make the lake riſe in the leaſt degree, there muſt have been a communication in ſome parts of its bottom, between the water of it and the abyſs. As the loch on the top of the mountain I have deſcribed had no feeders, yet emitted ſtreams, and therefore muſt be ſupported by the abyſs; ſo this lake, with ſo powerful a feeder, not running over, or [198]emitting water any way, muſt diſcharge itſelf in the abyſs below. The caſe of it muſt be the ſame as that of the Caſpian ſea. Into this ſea many rivers pour, and one in particular, the Volga I mean, that is more than ſufficient, in the quantity of water it turns out in a year, to drown the whole world. Yet the Caſpian remains in one ſtate, and does not overflow its banks, excepting, as before obſerved, ſometimes, in the ſpace of 16 years. It muſt by paſſages communicate with the great deep. It refunds the rivers into the great abyſs. The caſe of the Mediterranean ſea is the ſame; for, tho' a ſtrong current from the Atlantic continually ſits through the Strait of Gibraltar, yet theſe waters do not make it overflow the country round it, and of conſequence, they muſt be carried off by a ſubterranean paſſage, or paſſages, to the abyſs.

37. The journey in Stanemore continued. An account of an aſſemblage of black columnar marble.

From the lake I proceeded the next morning, June 14, 1725, toward the northeaſt end of Weſtmorland, having paſſed the night in a ſound ſleep under the trees by the water ſide, but was forced by the precipices, to ſhape my courſe from four in the morning till eight, to the north-weſt, and then the road turned eaſt-north-eaſt, till I came to a great glin, where a river made a rumbling noiſe over rocks and inequalities of many kinds, and formed a very wild wonderful ſcene. The river [199]was broad and deep, and on an eaſy deſcent to it, was an aſſemblage of ſtones, that ran in length about 100 feet, in breadth 30 feet, and ſomewhat reſembling the giant's cauſeway, in the county of Antrim, and province of Ulſter in Ireland; nine miles north eaſt from the pretty town of Colerain. The giants cauſeway, reader, is a prodigious pile of rocks, 80 feet broad, 20 feet above the reſt of the ſtrand, and that run from the bottom of a high hill above 200 yards into the ocean.

The aſſemblage of ſtones I am ſpeaking of are columns with ſeveral corners, that riſe three yards above the ground, and are joined as if done by art; the points being convex and concave, and thereby lying one in another. Theſe columns have five and ſix ſides, a few of them ſeven; and a number of them nicely and exactly placed together make one large pillar from one foot to two in diameter. They are ſo nicely joined, that altho' they have five and ſix ſides, as I before ſaid, yet their contexture is ſo adapted, as to leave no vacuity between them; the prominent angles of one pillar fitting, and falling exactly into the hollows left them between two others, and the plain ſides exactly anſwer to one another; ſo that thoſe hexagons and pentagons of columnar marble appear as if finiſhed by the hands of the moſt maſterly [200]workmen. All the pillars ſtood exactly perpendicular to the plane of the horizon.

Doctor Foley, in the philoſophical tranſactions, No. 212, ſpeaking of the giants cauſeway, ſeems to think theſe wonderful pillars are compoſed of the common ſort of craggy rock by the ſea ſide: and the authors of the complete ſyſtem of geography are of opinion, they reſemble the lapis Baſaltes; but ſome think they are a ſort of marble. Now the truth is, the Baſaltes of the antients is a very elegant and beautiful marble of a fine deep gloſſy black, like high poliſhed ſteel, and is always found erect in the form of regular angular columns, compoſed of a number of joints, fitted together, and making pillars: ſo that where ſuch pillars are ſeen, they are undoubtedly the columnar marble or touchſtone of the antients. Dr. Hill, in his hiſtory of foſſils, gives a good account of the nature of this body, and mentions ſeveral places it is to be found in; but ſeems not to have heard there was any of it among the northern mountains of our country.

This marble is one of the nobleſt productions of nature, and of all the foſſil kingdom, the moſt aſtoniſhing body. If art is requiſite for the formation of many things we ſee daily done with elegance and beauty; then certainly, mind itſelf, even the ſupreme mind, muſt have cauſed [201]ſuch effects as theſe aſtoniſhing marble pillars; which lie in vaſt compound perpendicular columns at great depths in the earth, (none in beds of ſtrata, like the other marbles), and riſe in ſuch beautiful joints and angles, well fitted together more than ſix and thirty foot above ground in ſome places. No other way could thoſe wonderful productions have come into being, but by that intelligent, active power, who ſpeaks intelligibly to every nation by his works. To talk as ſome people do, that neceſſity, which deſtroys the very idea of intelligent and deſigning activity — or chance, which is an utter abſurdity — or the ſea, according to Telliamed, generated and formed this genus of marble, and ſo wonderfully diſtinguiſhed it from all the other marmora; by making it into pentagon, hexagon, and ſeptagon columns, and rendering the points of the columns convex and concave, and ſo amazingly joining them together, that the prominent angles of one pillar fall exactly into the hollow left beween two others, and the plain ſides exactly anſwer to one another, as before obſerved, while all of them ſtand up perpendicular, contrary to the quality of all other marbles, and ſome lie in beds of ſtrata — To talk I ſay of the ſea, a chance, a neceſſity, doing this, or any thing of ſo wonderful a kind, is to produce ſchemes founded in ignorance, and everſive of true knowledge, [202]inſtead of giving a rational, intelligible account of the formation of the world, its order and appearances. In this wonderful production, a due attention perceives infinite art and power. Did we want that variety of things which employ the conſideration of rational men, and force the tongues of thinking men to acknowledge creating power, this marble alone would be ſufficient to demonſtrate equal power directed by infinite wiſdom.

38. An account f a burning ſpring.

Another extraordinary thing I ſaw in a valley not far from that where the Baſalts ſtands. It is a boiſterous burning ſpring. It riſes with great noiſe and vibration, and guſhes out with a force ſufficient to turn many mills. The water is clear and cold, but to the taſte unpleaſant, being ſomething like a bad egg. I judged from the nature of its motion, that the water would take fire, and having lit my torch, ſoon put it in a flame. The fire was fierce, and the water ran down the vale in a blaze. It was a river of fire for a conſiderable way, till it ſunk under ground among ſome rocks, and thereby diſappeared. After it had burnt ſome time, I took ſome boughs from a tree, and tying them together, beat the ſurface of the well for a few minutes, and the burning ceaſed. The water was not hot, as one might expect, but cold as the coldeſt ſpring could be. There are a great number of ſuch ſprings in [203]the world, but this is the largeſt I have read of, or ſeen. It differs from that of Broſeley in Shropſhire, within ſix miles of Bridge-north, in this reſpect, that Broſeley well will not continue to burn for any time, unleſs the air be kept from it; to which purpoſe they have encloſed it in an iron ciſtern with a cover to it; and to experiment the boiling a piece of meat by the fire of this ſpring, they clap the pot cloſe down when they cover is taken up, and then it burns as long as they will; making the largeſt joint of meat fit to eat in half the time the ſtrongeſt culinary fire could do the work. As to the medicinal virtues of the ſpring, in the mountains, I can only ſay, that as it has a copious ſulphur, and from thence flames like ſpirit of wine, it is probable it might be as effectual in communicating ſanity in various caſes, as the famous burning ſpring is in the palatinate of of Cracow of the leſſer Poland, mention'd in the Leipſic acts, An. 1684. p. 326. And as to the extinguiſhing this fire by beating it with twigs, it muſt to be ſure be for the reaſon given by Mr. Denis, that as the inflammability of ſuch ſprings is to be aſcribed to ſulphur, and to its exhalations burſting out of the water; ſo this floating flame, which is too ſubtle to heat the water, is ſtifled, by involving theſe ſpirits in the aqueous particles, by bruſhing the ſurface with brooms.

Conradus tells us, concerning the Poliſh [204]ſpring, that at one time, when it was kindled by lightning, the people neglected to put it out, and the ſtream proceeded on fire for almoſt three years, and reduced all the neighbouring wood to aſhes. It is really a wonderful ſight to ſee ſuch a river of fire, and adorable muſt be that power, who has cauſed ſuch things. To ſay that matter and motion circumſcribe and regulate ſuch powers, is idle to the laſt degree. It is an inverſion of reaſon. The very exiſtence of the water and ſulphur of this ſpring, muſt be by the power of the Creator conſtantly put forth upon it, which cauſes the parts to be what we call ſuch things; and the motion of both muſt be an impreſſion; for motion is not eſſential to matter. Nothing elſe could produce them, and a cauſe there muſt be equal to the various and wonderful effects of both, a cauſe that is infinite, wiſe, and powerful. The Deity is every where preſent, and every where active. His power is indeſinently working, gives exiſtence to the various creatures, and produces the moſt noble phaenomena in nature. All we ſee, all we feel, fire and water, the univerſal variety of inanimate and animate creatures, are only the effects of his creating power conſtantly repeated. The exiſtence of the whole world is a continual new creation; and therefore it becomes the bounden duty of all rational creatures, to worſhip this Almighty Power, as well for his works of [205]creation, as for the ways of his providence. Great and wonderful are thy works, O Lord God Almighty: and juſt and righteous are thy ways, O King of ſaints: who would not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name, becauſe thou only art holy.

39. Another loch on the top of a high mountain, and a ſwallow in the bottom.

From the burning fountain we proceeded for half an hour in the ſame valley right onwards, and then turned to the left in a courſe to the weſt, for about a mile, which brought us to the bottom of a ſteep mountain, we muſt aſcend, or go no farther. It was hard to get the horſes over this, and no leſs difficult to deſcend with them to a deep bottom on the other ſide of the hill: but with great hazard to ourſelves and the beaſts, we came down in ſafety. On the top of this mountain I ſaw another large loch that was black as ink in appearance, tho' bright when taken up in a glaſs; which, (as before obſerved) muſt be owing I ſuppoſe to its top communicating with the abyſs below; and in the bottom we deſcended to, there was a ſwallow larger than the one I ſaw before. I could make no diſcovery as to its depth, either by line or ſound; nor did my lead touch any water. On the ſloping way from the firſt chaſm in day to the gulph, were ſeveral lateral chambers, that deſcended one yard in ſix; but tho' the bottom was hard, the horrors of the places hindered me from going far. I went to the [206]end of the firſt, which was 67 yards, and having looked into the ſecond, to which a narrow ſhort paſs leads the inquirer, I made what haſte I could back; for the opening diſcovers a ſpace ſo vaſt, diſmal, and frightful, that it ſtrikes one to the heart. The bottom, as far as my light could enable me to diſtinguiſh, was a continuance of ſtone; but neither top nor ſides were to be ſeen. It is a horrible place.

40. An amazing arch thro' a mountain in a delightful ſpot of ground.

Leaving this bottom, we mounted another very high and dangerous hill, and from the top of it deſcended into twenty acres of as rich and beautiful ground as my eyes had ever ſeen. It was covered with flowers and aromatic herbs; and had, in the center of it, a little grove of beautiful trees; among which were fruits of ſeveral kinds. A flowing ſpring of the pureſt water was in the middle of this ſweet little wood, and ran in pretty windings over the ground. It refreſhed and adorned the field, and it was beautiful to ſee the deer from the hills, and the goats come down from the cliffs, to drink at theſe ſtreams. The whole was ſurrounded with precipices that aſcended above the clouds, and through one of theſe rocky mountains there was an opening that had a ſtupendous appearance.

It was a vaſt amazing arch, that had ſome reſemblance of the gothic iſle of a large cathedral church, and terminated in a view [207]of rocks hanging over rocks in a manner frightful to behold. It meaſured an hundred yards in length, 40 in breadth, and I judged it to be fifty yards high. The pending rocks in view incloſed a ſpace of four acres, as it appeared to me, and the bottom was ſo very deep that it looked like night below. What line I had could not reach it, nor could I make any thing of the depth by ſound. It ſeemed to me to be a vaſt ſwallow that went down to the abyſs. The whole was a ſcene that harrowed the ſoul with horror.

41. An extraordinary paſſage thro' the mountains.

By the ſpring in the little grove I have mentioned, I ſat down at 8 in the morning, to breakfaſt on ſomething that one of my ſquires produced from his ſtore, while the other was looking for a paſſage or way onwards, between thoſe vaſt precipices that ſurrounded us. Two hours he waſted in an enquiry, and then returned, to let me know there was no paſſage that he could find: the encloſed rocks were one continued chain of unpaſſable mountains. Here then I thought was my ne plus ultra. As the man affirmed there was no getting beyond the vaſt incloſing cliffs that walled in this charming ſpot of earth, I imagined for ſome time, that I muſt of neceſſity return, and give over all thoughts of getting to the borders of Cumberland or Biſhoprick that way. It ſeemed impoſſible to [208]proceed, and that was no ſmall trouble to my mind. It was a great journey round, and if I did ride it, I knew not where to turn in on the confines of the country my friend lived on; for I had loſt his directions, and had only a ſmall remembrance of his dwelling ſomewhere on the north edge of Weſtmoreland or Yorkſhire, or on the adjoining borders of Cumberland, or the county of Durham. What to do I could not for ſome time tell: going back I did not at all like, and therefore, to avoid it if poſſible, reſolved to paſs the day in trying if I could find any way out, without climbing the mountain again that I had lately come down. Round then I walked, once, and to no manner of purpoſe, for I did not ſee any kind of paſs; but the ſecond time, as I marched on obſerving the hill, I took notice of a large clump of great trees in an angle or deep corner, that ſeemed to ſtand very oddly, and in the mountain above them there appeared as I thought a diſtance or ſpace that looked like an opening. I ſoon found it was ſo, and that at the back of this little wood, there lay a very narrow way, only broad enough for two horſes a-breaſt: that it extended due weſt for more than a mile, and then weſt-north-weſt for a quarter of a mile, till it terminated in a plain that was ſeveral miles in circumference, and intirely ſurrounded with hills. This I diſcovered [209]in walking the paſs by myſelf, 1725. and then returned to bring the horſes and men, through this amazing way. It was quite dark, mere night all along; and the bottom very bad. It was likewiſe every dangerous. It was evident from the ground, that ſtones had fallen from the tops of the hills; and ſhould any deſcend from ſo vaſt a height on us, tho' even ſmall ones, they would without all peradventure be immediate death.

42. A reflexion on the completion of every wiſh the moment it is formed.

The plain we came into from the defile, was above a mile over to the oppoſite hills, and a-croſs it was a walk of aged oaks, that ſeemed, in ſuch a place, as the avenue that leads to the fairy caſtle of wiſhes. If ſuch beings there are, as Dr. Fowler, biſhop of Gloceſter, hath in one of his books affirmed, then here, I ſaid, in this fine romantic region, where all the charms of the field, the foreſt, the water, and the mountains, are united, may be their favorite manſion, and perhaps they will admit me into their fairy caſtle: then commences their friendſhip, and when they have all breathed on me, it is but wiſhing for the future, and the completion of every deſire is granted the moment it is formed. Would not this be compleat happineſs? what do you ſay, reflexion?

No, (reflexion anſwered, as we rid up this avenue.) Imagination may form fine pictures [210]of felicity from an indulgence in every wiſh; but, ſo blind are mankind to their own real happineſs, that it is oftner to the gratification than to the diſappointment of their wiſhes that all their miſery is owing. We often chooſe what is not conſonant to the welfare of our nature, and ſtrive to avoid thoſe incidents which are fated in the order of incontrolable events for our good. Frequently do we labour to ſecure the things that debaſe us into ſlaves, and overwhelm us with calamity; but ſeldom do we deſire, rarely do we ſtrive to obtain thoſe objects, and acquire that ſtation, which are moſt likely to render humanity as perfect as it can be in this world, rational and godlike, and thereby crown our lives with true happineſs. Many a man has purſued a Venus, an eſtate, an honour, with much toil and wonderful activity, and when poſſeſſed of the fancyed bleſſing, have been made very miſerable mortals. The wiſhed for beauty has often made even the huſband wretched. An aching ſcar is often covered with the laurel: and in reſpect of envied great fortunes, gaudy is the thing without, and within very often is mere bitterneſs. The wiſdom is, as to this world, not to get from the fairies a power of enjoying all that fancy may deſire, if that was poſſible; but, to act well and wiſely, in the moſt reaſonable, lovely, and fair manner, and propoſe [211]nothing of ourſelves, but with a reſerve that ſupreme wiſdom permits it; welcoming every event with chearfulneſs and magnanimity, as beſt upon the whole, becauſe ordained of infinite reaſon; and acquieſcing in every obſtruction, as ultimately reſervable to divine providence. This (continued reflexion), in reſpect of this life, were there no other, is preferable to the caſtle of wiſhes, if we could find it at the end of this avenue (17) .

But if another life is taken into the queſtion, the argument grows ſtronger againſt a power of enjoying all we could wiſh for.— As we are accountable creatures, and are pouring faſt out of time into eternity, religion undoubtedly ought to be the main buſineſs of mortals;—that religion, which is a living principle, ſpring, or root of actions [212]in the ſoul; wrought there by the hand of him that made us; and which requireth us to honour and fear God as the ſupreme Lord, to eſteem him as the chief good; and to exerciſe and expreſs that honour, that fear, and that eſteem, by all the means, and in all the ways, which reaſon and revelation appoint for ſuch exerciſe and expreſſion; that we may gain the love of the Almighty, and obtain the eſtabliſhed ſeat of happineſs above: but ſuch force hath the objects of ſenſe upon the mind, that it is more than probable they would outweigh the diſtant hopes of religion, if wiſhing could bring in even a tenth part of what the vanity of man, and his ſenſes would call for. It would be ſo far from being an advantage to mankind, if they could wiſh and have vaſt fortunes, all the pleaſures, the pomps and honours of the world, that they would thereby be deprived of the rational joys of life, and be influenced to think no more of the excellency and beauty of religion, and the good conſequences of ſerving God truly. They would not even divide themſelves between this world and the other. The Idol Gods of this ſtate would have all their ſervice. The wiſh then ſhould be for daily bread, and that the kingdom of God may come—his will be done in our ſouls. In theſe are comprized the greateſt and moſt valuable bleſſings, and we are ſure we can obtain [213]them, if we will add to aſking an induſtry and prudence in acquiring, and take care by culture, to bring up the ſeeds of virtue and holineſs. This is enough to make us as happy here as reaſon can deſire. We have a ſufficiency to go through this world to that other where we are to be ſtationed for ever, and againſt the accidents of the way, we have the ſupports which innocence and virtue to the good adminiſter. Peace and tranquillity of mind here, and hopes full of comfort with reſpect to hereafter, are the ingredients of our happineſs; a happineſs the greateſt! and we are certain that he, upon whoſe mercy and goodneſs we confeſs we exiſt, will, in regard to our confidence and truſt, our faith and religion, when this fleeting ſcene is over, make us glorious and ever bleſſed in the kingdom he has prepared for thoſe that rely on the Divine Goodneſs, and do their beſt to advance the ſtate of true virtue in the world. Let us not regret, then, the want of a caſtle of wiſhes. Let us not have a deſire of that wealth, dominion and ſplendor, which lives in contempt of the prophets, and riots in the heinous pleaſures of irreligion.

Let our great Maſter's Will be made the rule of all our actions, and let his intereſt be regarded, as our intereſt. Let us conſult his honour, as our own honour; and having food and [214]raiment, be content, as we are haſting away with a never ceaſing pace, to the realms of eternity and unmixed bliſs. This is reaſon and light. This only deſerves our care. There is nothing worth wiſhing for, but the happineſs of God's preſence in our hearts; and the more immediate communications of his love and favour in the regions of day.

43. A deſcription of a natural grotto in one of the mountains of Stanemore. June 14, 1725.

Thus did reflexion entertain me, as I rid up this grand ſhady walk, which looked like the avenue I had read of in the Tales of the Fairies, and brought me to a natural grotto, more beautiful than Aelian's deſcription of Atalanta's, or that in Homer, where Calypſos lived. — It was a large cavern at the bottom of a marble mountain, and without, was covered round with ivy, that clung about ſome aged oaks, (on either ſide the entrance) that ſeemed coeval with the earth on which they grew. Abundance of large laurel trees, in clumps, adorned an extenſive area before the door; and ſaffron, and hyacinths, and flowers of many colours, covered in confuſed ſpots the carpet green. The beautiful ground refreſhed the ſight, and purified the air: and to enhance the beauties of the ſpot, a clear and cold ſtream guſhed from a neighbouring rock; which watered the trees and plants, and ſeemed to combat with the earth, whether of them moſt contributed to their growth and preſervation. It was a [215]ſweet rural ſcene. For charms and ſolitude the place was equally to be admired.

The inſide of this grotto was a beautiful green marble, extremely bright, and even approaching to the appearance of the emerald. It was thick ſet with ſhells, and thoſe not ſmall ones, but ſome of the largeſt and fineſt kinds: many of them ſeemed, as it were, ſqueezed together by the marble, ſo as to ſhew the edges only; but more were to be ſeen at large, and filled with the pureſt ſpar. The whole had a fine effect, and as the cave had been divided by art into ſix fine apartments, and had doors and chimnies moſt ingeniouſly contrived, both the manſion and its ſituation charmed me in a high degree. It was a beautiful habitation indeed. On either ſide of it were many cottages, pretty and clean, and as ſheep were feeding on the field, ſome cows grazing, and various kinds of tame fowl before the doors, I concluded it was an inhabited place, before I ſaw any one.

44. The hiſtory of Azora.

The firſt human being I beheld, was an old woman, who appeared at the grotto door, and I requeſted her to inform me, who lived in this delightful place;—and which was my beſt way to Cumberland or Biſhoprick? Sir, (replied the good old woman) you are welcome to Burcott-Lodge. Women only are the inhabitants of this ſpot: and over the [216]hills before you, you muſt go, to get to the countries you mention. We are an hundred ſouls in all that live here, and our miſtreſs, ſuperior and head, is a young woman. Her name is Azora. Yonder ſhe comes, goodneſs itſelf, and as it is now ſeven in the evening, too late to proceed any farther in this part of the world, you had better walk up to her, and pay her your reſpects. Great was my ſurprize at what I heard. A little female republic among thoſe hills was news indeed: and when I came near Azora, my aſtoniſhment encreaſed.

The picture of Azora.

She was attended by ten young women, ſtraight, clean, handſome girls, and ſurpaſſed them in tallneſs. Her countenance was maſculine, but not auſtere: her fine blue eyes diſcovered an excellence of temper, while they ſhewed the penetration of her mind. Her hair was brown, bright and charming; and nature had ſtamped upon her cheeks a colour, that exceeded the moſt beautiful red of the fineſt flower. It was continually as the maiden bluſh of a modeſt innocence. She was dreſt in a fine woollen ſtuff, made in the manner ſhepherdeſſes are painted, and on her head had a band or fillet like what the ladies now wear, with a bunch of artificial flowers in her hair. She had a very ſmall ſtraw hat on.—In her hand, ſhe held a long and [217]pretty crook: and as her coats were ſhort, her feet were ſeen, in black ſilk ſhoes, and the fineſt white ſtockings, and appeared vaſtly pretty. She ſtruck me greatly. She was a charming, and uncommon figure. When I came up to Azora, I could hardly forbear addreſſing her, as the ſon of Ulyſſes did the ſupernal,—O vous, qui que vous ſoiez, mortelle ou deeſſe (quoiqu'a vous voir on ne puiſſe vous prendre que pour une divinité) ſeriez-vóus inſenſible au malheur d'un fils, qui —Whoever you are, a mortal or a goddeſs, tho' ſure your aſpect ſpeaks you all divine, can you, unmoved, behold a hapleſs ſon, by fate expelled, and urged by unrelenting rage, to wander thro' the world, expoſed to winds and ſeas, and all the ſtrokes of adverſe fortune, till he arrived in this land of felicity and peace?—But on better thoughts, I only ſaid, I am your moſt humble ſervant, madam, and told her I believed I had loſt my way, and knew not where to go;—To which ſhe replied, you are welcome, ſir, to our hamlet, and to the beſt entertainment it affords: only tell me, ſhe added with a ſmile, what could induce you to travel this unbeaten road—and how did you paſs the precipices and rivers you muſt have met with in the way?—Curioſity, madam, (I anſwered) was one cauſe; that I might ſee a country [218]no traveller had been in; and my next inducement, to find a valuable friend; who lives ſomewhere upon the northern border of this county, or Yorkſhire, or on the adjoining limits of Cumberland or Durham; but on which I know not; and as I came from Brugh under Stanemore, I judged it the ſhorteſt way by a great many miles, and the likelieſt to ſucceed in my enquiry after my friend:—then as to hills and waters, many dangerous ones I have gone over, and with great toil and fatigue have got thus far.—This (Azora ſaid) is a rational account of your journey, and as there are many difficulties ſtill before you, you are welcome to reſt with us till you are refreſhed, and able to proceed.

By this time, we reached the grotto door, and upon entring the firſt apartment, I ſaw another lady, dreſt in the ſame manner, and ſeemed to be of the ſame age, that is, about ſix and twenty, as I was told. This was Azora's companion and friend. She was a very pretty woman, tho' inferior to Azora in charms: but her mind was equally luminous and good. Neither ſhe nor Azora were learned women, that is, they underſtood no other language than the Engliſh tongue, and in that they had but a ſmall collection of the beſt books; but thoſe few they had read [219]well, and they had capacities to think. In reaſon, philoſophy, and mathematicks, they were excellent, and in the moſt agreeable manner, diſcovered in converſation the fineſt conceptions of the moſt excellent things. Azora, of the two, was by much the beſt ſpeaker. Her voice was delightful, and her pronunciation juſt; ſtrong, clear, and various. With unſpeakable pleaſure did I liſten to her, during three days that I happily paſſed with her and her companion, and received from both many valuable informations. I thought I underſtood algebra very well, but I was their inferior, and they inſtructed me; and on the fundamental points of religion, they not only out-talked me, but out-reaſoned me. It is very ſtrange, I confeſs. It is very true, however.

Azora, in particular, had an amazing collection of the moſt rational philoſophical ideas, and ſhe delivered them in the moſt pleaſing dreſs, with as much eaſe as ſhe breathed. She aſked me, after I had feaſted on an excellent ſupper, how religion went on in the world; and what was the condition of that which came from ſupernatural communication, as ſhe phraſed it? and when I told her, that our excellent divines did all that was poſſible for men to do, to turn the world from ſuperſtition of every kind to that [220] expreſs revelation which reſtores the dictates of uncorrupted reaſon to their force and authority; which teaches the knowledge of one ſupreme Spirit or God, and the nature of that worſhip which is due to a Being not confined to, or dependent upon particular places, or circumſtances; but always and every where preſent with us: ſhe anſwered, that ſuch clergymen are glorious, and cannot be enough admired; and great is the unreaſonableneſs of the men who oppoſed them, and forced them into the field of diſputation, from their holy labour of inſtructing the people in penitential piety and ſanctification: I mean the infidels and the bigots.

What can be more unjuſt and impious, (Azora continued) than for men to declame againſt a revelation which diſplays the paternal regard of God for his creatures, by doing more than was ſtrictly neceſſary for their happineſs, as they had his original law of reaſon before he gave them the goſpel; and which enables us to extend our knowledge even as to thoſe things which we are by nature capable of knowing; which awakens us to duty, and adviſes us how to walk in the ways of prudence and ſafety. To reject ſuch an extraordinary method of ſaving us, is ſenſeleſs and culpable indeed. Surely, when ſuperſtition and enthuſiaſm has led mankind into errors, we ought to adore the divine goodneſs [221]for recommunicating a knowledge of true religion; of duty in this life, and of what we are to expect in that which is to come. We can never be thankful enough for a revelation, that has a tendency to promote the happineſs of mankind both here and hereafter. The oppoſition, in my opinion, is without excuſe; as the external evidence of hiſtory, miracles, and prophecy for the goſpel, is inconteſtably ſtrong, when fairly examined; muſt appear with force to a modeſt, candid, impartial inquirer; and as the internal evidence for the ſacred letters, their uſefulneſs and excellence, muſt be obvious to every attentive capacity, that delights in the purſuit of religion and virtue. Truth and candor, then, thoſe infidels are ſtrangers to. They are not fair reaſoners. They are haughty, over-bearing declaimers.

Azora's notion of the incomprehenſible, and the law of reaſon.

Nor can I think much better (Azora ſaid) of thoſe great and reverend men, who preach and write to prove the weakneſs of human reaſon, and that the prime law of our creation, the law of nature, is imperfect, inſufficient, and obſcure; and therefore, ſupernatural communication was abſolutely neceſſary; who add to this, things inconceivable and contradictory, and inſiſt upon our believing articles too hard for rational beings. This is miſrepreſenting rationals, if we believe the ſcriptures, and is ſo far from being of ſervice to [222]the cauſe of chriſtianity, (as in charity we muſt ſuppoſe thoſe great men by ſuch writeing and preaching do intend) that it does, on the contrary, very greatly hurt reveled religion. It is to ſuch wrong defences of revelation that antichriſtian deiſm owes its chief ſtrength. Our holy religion wants not any real evidence that can be deſired by the modeſt, candid, and impartial; but if great and learned men will deny the perfection of the primary law of God, and ſubſtitute in the place of recommunicated nature, an invented goſpel, that ſwells with uſeleſs myſteries, and hard doctrines; great damage muſt fall upon the true goſpel. An unintelligible religion is no religion. It can be of no concern, with regard to rational creatures; and ſtrong minds will laugh at its pieties.

Objections.

But excluſive of invented myſteries, (I ſaid) which are to be ſure ſad ſtuff in the works of thoſe great men, and deplorably corrupt the ſimplicity of the goſpel, to me it is not ſo plane, that mankind could by reaſon acquire juſt and adequate ideas of the exiſtence and nature of the ſupreme Being, or know that they had immortal ſouls, and would expoſe themſelves to eternal unavoidable miſery in a future ſtate, in proportion to the demerit of their thoughts and actions in this world; but might ſecure everlaſting felicity by worſhipping one ſupreme, univerſal, omnipotent, [223]eternal, omnipreſent, and intelligent Spirit, and doing all the good we have an opportunity and power to do in this life. I queſtion if reaſon can make us clear and certain on theſe articles. The reaſon of the bulk of mankind cannot do it, I think. Therefore, the goſpel was abſolutely neceſſary for the ſalvation of men.

Continuation of Azora's religious notions.

Azora to this replied, that faith in Chriſt, and all his own inſtitutions, were of high value indeed; and beautiful his religion appears, when it is fairly repreſented, as an inſtitution that has no other end than morality, the moſt noble end, and the moſt worthy of God; and that declares the practice of all the moral offices to be ſuperior to any inward accompliſhment, or outward chriſtian inſtitution: but ſhe could not allow, that chriſtianity was abſolutely neceſſary; for the common reaſon of men, without launching out into the unfathomable ocean of metaphyſical ſubtilties, appears upon tryal to be able to diſcover the fundamental points of religion; and from the things that are made, from our moral capacities and powers, and from our relations to one another, to know the ſupreme Being, his attributes and perfections, and that we are accountable to our great Creator.

If men will think, they muſt perceive (without the reaſon of a Newton or Clarke) the exiſtence of a ſpiritual influence in all the [224]parts of inanimated matter, and the exiſtence of their own ſpirits or ſouls. To which ever part of matter we look, we ſee a ſpirit employed. An influencing Being, endued with the faculties of perception, activity, and volition, is plane. The accidental qualities of matter, called attraction, repulſion, and communication of motion, evince that material and vegetable nature, and all the parts of inanimated matter, are actuated by one ſupreme and univerſal ſpirit: I ſay One Spirit, becauſe it is evident from a ſameneſs of volition, that is, from one and the ſame faculty of volition, manifeſt throughout all nature, that there are not ſeveral diſtinct, independent ſpirits. In attraction, repulſion, and communication of motion, there appears no different faculty of volition, but a different exerciſe of the ſame faculty of volition; which, for wiſe reaſons, makes ſome parts of matter cohere ſtrongly, as ſtone and metal,—ſome weakly, as earth, etc; ſome repel, while others attract; ſome elaſtic, and others non-elaſtic. In all theſe caſes, one ſpirit only is the actor: that Being who holds all perfection in himſelf, and by an abſolute command over all parts of matter, forms and manages it as his wiſdom ſees beſt;—juſt as his adorable providence governs us, and diſpoſes of us, by ſuch laws as reaſon, (conſulting the good of the whole ſociety) declares it to be beſt [225]for us to obey: beſt, moſt ſurely, as it is the glory of the Almighty to be conſtantly and without any deviation, governed by the eternal and immutable laws of good and right, juſt and equal. All is the operation of one and the ſame univerſal ſpirit. Identity is viſible. The various kinds of attraction, repulſion, etc. only ſhew the unlimited power of the Deity, in actuating matter as his eſtabliſhed rules require. Were ſeveral arbitrary, ſupreme ſpirits to act over matter, the conſequence would be a breach of regularity, uniformity, and conſtancy, in the laws of nature, and that confuſion would appear inſtead of beauty and order.

Continuation of Azora's religious notions.

Thus common reaſon confeſſes that there is one infinite univerſal, ſupreme ſpirit, who actuates and governs the univerſe; and from the heavens, the earth, and ourſelves, we are as certain that there is a Creator and Lord of all the worlds, who directs every atom of it, and animates every material form, as we are of any thing demonſtrated to us. And as he is not only the Creator but the Manager and Preſerver of every being, there can be no power equal to him. He muſt be omnipotent. He muſt likewiſe be eternal and omnipreſent; for there was no ſuperior power to receive exiſtence from, nor is there a ſuperior power to confine it. As to his infinite intelligence, his being the Author [226]and Preſerver of all things demonſtrates it.

In reſpect of the human ſoul (Azora continued) it is impoſſible for perception to proceed from the body, or from any motion or modification of parts of the body; and therefore, there muſt be a mind in which our ideas muſt be produced and exiſt. If the ideas of ſenſation may be ſuppoſed to be occaſioned by the different motions of the conſtituent parts of the brain, yet they cannot be thoſe motions. The motions can only enable a ſpiritual percipient to note them, remember them, etc: and as to reflection, the other part of the perceptive faculty, attention, and contemplation, it is not poſſible they can proceed from the different motions into which the parts of the brain are put; becauſe they are employed ſolely about perceptions which were only in the mind. The caſe is the ſame as to many other qualities or faculties;— in the deſigning quality, the inventing quality, the judging quality, the reaſoning quality, the compounding quality, the abſtracting quality, the diſcerning quality, the recollective quality, the retentive quality, the freedom of will, the faculty of volition, and eſpecially the foreſeeing faculty: theſe cannot be the faculties of matter. Such qualities muſt exiſt ultimately and ſolely in mind. Can foreſight, for example, be the work of matter, when it is employed about [227]things and actions which have not yet happened, and for that reaſon cannot be the objects of the ſenſes? No ſurely. It muſt be the ſpiritual part of the compound that acts upon the occaſion: in all the intelligent faculties which we comprehend under the complex idea of underſtanding, ſpirit only can be the performer.

Continuation of Azora's religious philoſophy.

There is a ſoul or mind then in man, and that it is immortal and accountable, is as evident as that the retentive faculty, that is, retaining ideas received by reflection, does not pertain to body, but is a natural quality of the ſoul only, and does not proceed from its union with the body: for, as perception and retention prove the human mind to be a diſtinct being, and that it has qualities which cannot proceed from body, therefore it muſt ſtill continue a Spirit, unleſs annihilated by its Creator, and muſt, after its ſeparation, be endued with the qualities which are the faculties of ſoul only. The reaſon is plain. Theſe qualities cannot be deſtroyed without a cauſe, but ſeparation is no cauſe, as the quality or qualities did not proceed from, or depend on union, therefore the ſoul is immortal, unleſs we ſuppoſe what cannot be ſuppoſed, that its Creator puts an end to its being. We muſt know, after death, that we exiſt. We muſt remember a paſt exiſtence, [228]and call to mind every idea we had formed in this life by reflection.

Continuation of Azora's diſcourſe.

As to our being accountable hereafter for the deeds we have done in this firſt ſtate of exiſtence, this can admit of no ſpeculation; for as we have received from our Creator the eternal law of reaſon, which enables us to diſtinguiſh right and wrong, and to govern the inferior powers and paſſions, appetites and ſenſes, if we pleaſe; — as we are endued with an underſtanding which can acquire large moral dominion, and may, if we oppoſe not, ſit as queen upon the throne over the whole corporeal ſyſtem; ſince the noble faculty of reaſon was given to rectify the ſoul, and purify it from earthly affections; to elevate it above the objects of ſenſe, to purge it from pride and vanity, ſelfiſhneſs and hypocriſy, and render it juſt, pious and good; — of conſequence, God has a right to call us to account for our conduct in this firſt ſtate, and will reward or puniſh, in a moſt extraordinary manner; as the principles and actions of man have been righteous; or, his life and character ſtained by unjuſt diſpoſitions and filthy deeds. This is plain to common reaſon. Every underſtanding muſt ſee this, how wrong ſoever they wilfully act. As God by his nature muſt abhor iniquity, and love what is honeſt, pure, and good; he muſt reward the piety and worthy behaviour [229]of thoſe, who act according to reaſon in this life, and with views beyond the bounds of time, endeavour to proceed each day to more exalted ideas of virtue: but, the mortals who deviate from rectitude and goodneſs, and wilfully live workers of iniquity, muſt expect that God, the Father of ſpirits, the Lover of truth, and the patron of righteouſneſs and virtue, will proportion future puniſhments to preſent vices, and baniſh them to the regions of eternal darkneſs. From the natural lights of our underſtanding we have the higheſt reaſon to conclude this will be the caſe. The truths are as evident to a reflection, as that this world, and we who inhabit it, could not have had eternal exiſtence, nor be firſt formed by any natural cauſe; but muſt have been originally produced, as we are now conſtantly preſerved, by the ſupreme and univerſal Spirit. This is the excellent law of reaſon or nature. There is a light ſufficient in every human breaſt, to conduct the ſoul to perfect day, if men will follow it right onwards, and not turn into the paths that lead to the dark night of hell.

Remarks on Azora's diſcourſe.

Azora's religious notions amazed me, and the more, as they were uttered with a fluency and eaſe beyond any thing I had ever heard before. In the ſofteſt, ſweeteſt voice, ſhe expreſſed herſelf, and without the leaſt appearance of labour, her ideas ſeemed to flow [230]from a vaſt fountain. She was a maſter indeed in the doctrine of ideas. Her notion of them and their formation was juſt as poſſible; and in a few minutes ſhe ſettled every thing relating to them. Her ideas of activity and paſſivity afforded me much inſtruction, as did her notions of ſpace, matter, and ſpirit: and what is ſtill more extraordinary, ſhe had a fine conception of an electrical fluid, which is thought to be a diſcovery made very lately, and made uſe of it to prove, not that it is the ultimate cauſe of effects, but that every thing is cauſed and directed by an immaterial ſpirit. An immaterial ſpirit was her favorite article, and it was to me a fine entertainment to hear her on that ſubject; from the one ſupreme Spirit down to the ſpirit of brute animals. — But to conclude our converſation on religion; I obſerved to Azora, that if things were ſo, and the law of reaſon was ſo perfect and ſufficient, then I could not ſee that there was any want at all of the religion of favor, ſince that of nature was enough to confirm us in rectitude and holineſs, if we would obey its directions; and to ſhew us the way to the manſions of angels. Why the law of grace at ſo great an expence — if the rule of reaſon can make us good here, and for ever happy hereafter?

[231]

Azora's notion of the uſefulneſs and excellence of chriſtianity.

Azora replied, that ſhe had before anſwered this queſtion by obſerving, that excellent as the primary law of the creation was, yet, revelation was of the greateſt uſe, as it enables us to extend our knowledge even as to the things which we are by nature capable of knowing; and as it reſtored to the world the law of reaſon, that is, true religion, when ſuperſtition and enthuſiaſm had eſtabliſhed falſe religion. This renders chriſtianity glorious were there nothing more to be ſaid for it: But this is not all we can ſay.

Azora's diſcourſe on the uſefulneſs of chriſtianity.

The beſt of mortals are weak, and the moſt of them are ſo fully employed about things temporal, that it is impoſſible ſo much good ſhould proceed from mere human reaſon as from a plain eaſy goſpel, that delineates duty in the moſt intelligible manner, and contains the abſolute command of the great God, to renounce vicious habits, impure deſires, worldly tempers, and frame our ſouls to purity, ſincerity, and devotion; as the only means that can ſecure his felicitating preſence, and gain us admiſſion to the delightful ſeats of ſeparate ſouls made perfect. In this the goſpel is far preferable to reaſon.

Continuation of Azora's diſcourſe.

Beſide, as wilful diſobedience ſtrikes at the being and government of God, and devotedneſs to the Lord of all the worlds, in truſt and reſignation, is the perfection of [232]religion, the example of the Son of God in his humiliation, his croſs, his death, make an inſtance of reſignation ſo conſummate and inſtructive, that we not only learn from it what reaſon cannot half ſo well inſtruct us in; I mean the amiableneſs of virtue, the excellency of holineſs, and the merit of abſolute and unreſerved obedience; but, we are rouſed to an imitation of this grand character; both on account of its beauty, and the promiſe of our ſitting down with Chriſt in his throne, if, according to our meaſure, we work all righteouſneſs, and overcome our preſent temptations and trials, even as he alſo overcame, and is ſet down with his Father in his throne. Reaſon is nothing compared to this. The goſpel-diſpenſation by this means is fitted to render us virtuous, holy, and thoroughly good, in a method the law of nature could never do.

Continuation of Azora's diſcourſe on the excellence of chriſtianity.

And more than this; when the God of heaven ſaw his creatures and children every where going wrong, without any help amongſt themſelves, and therefore ſent his Son to ſet them right; to ſet before them the unchangeable rule of everlaſting righteouſneſs in its original purity and perfection, and not only explain and enforce it by the moſt powerful conſiderations, but apply the commands of ſupreme reaſon to the government [233]of the thoughts and paſſions of the heart; that duty and virtue in the principle and habit of univerſal rectitude towards both God and man, might be the practice of all the earth, and mankind become a people holy to the Lord; He, the Univerſal Father, the better to effect this bleſſed purpoſe, added two things to religion, which have a power that reaſon wants, to make us conform to God, and the eternal laws of righteouſneſs, in principle, temper and life. One is, Chriſt's appearing to put away ſin by the ſacrifice of himſelf, by his becoming a ſin-offering. The other is the aſſiſtance of the ſpirit of God. The oblation of the Son, and the grace of the Father, have effects in religion, in changing and ſanctifying, that reaſon is an utter ſtranger to.

Concluſion of Azora's diſcourſe on the excellence of thé chriſtian religion.

The ſum of the whole is, the goſpel, that word of truth and power, enters the hearts, and breaks the power of ſin in the ſoul. The holy life of Chriſt ſets us an example, that we ſhould walk in his ſteps, and obey the will of the infinitely wiſe Creator; that, like him, we ſhould accord by obedience with the harmony of God's moral government, and rather die than break or obſtruct it by any wilful ſin. And by his being a ſin-offering, he not only put an end to all ſin-offerings, (which both Jews and Gentiles were [234]wont to offer;) (19.) but, by his being the moſt precious one in the univerſe, ſhewed God's great diſpleaſure againſt ſin, and in his obedience to the Father, even unto death, that we ought to ceaſe from evil, and by a righteous obedience render ourſelves worthy of God the Father's love. That we may do ſo, we have the promiſe of the Spirit to enable us to turn from ſin and Satan to the living God, that by the acting principle of ſanctification, wrought within us by the hand of him that made us, (without the leaſt force on our will,) we may perfect our ſouls in purity and holineſs, exerciſe acts of love and benevolence, and worſhip the one true God in and through the one true Mediator. —Reaſon alone, excellent as it is, cannot produce any thing like this.

The religion of favour in theſe reſpects ſurpaſſes the law of nature. By the firſt law of the creation, reaſon, we may acquire that [235] righteouſneſs, which is an habitual rectitude of ſoul, and right actions flowing from it: but ſanctification, that influencing principle, which adds holineſs to righteouſneſs, belongs, as I take it, to the law of grace It is given to thoſe who aſk it, not for the ſake of, but through Chriſt.

Objections to Azora's diſcourſe.

All this (I anſwered) is juſt and fine, and I have only to requeſt, for my farther inſtruction, that you will be pleaſed, madam, to explain yourſelf a little more on the articles of a ſin-offering and grace; for I have always thought there was a darkneſs ſat upon theſe parts of reveled religion, and have often wiſhed for what I have not yet found, a head capable of giving me intire ſatisfaction on thoſe points: but from what I have heard you ſay, I muſt now ſuppoſe that all my doubts, relative to the two ſubjects, you have the power to remove. — My power (Azora returned) is no more than a plain underſtanding, that in this ſtill and peaceful region, has been at liberty to think, without being corrupted by ſophiſtry, ſchool-nonſenſe, or authority; and, as to giving ſatisfaction on the heads you mention, or any other, it is not what I pretend to: but my opinion you ſhall have ſince you aſk it; and in the following manner Azora proceeded.

Azora's account of Chriſt being a ſin-offering.

As to our Lord's becoming a ſin-offering, I conceive, in the firſt place, that God ordained [236]it, becauſe he ſaw it needful, and neceſſary to anſwer many and great ends. It muſt be right, and what in the reaſon and nature of things ought to be, though we were not able to comprehend the reaſons that made it needful. It muſt have been the propereſt way to make up the breach between heaven and earth, ſince infinite wiſdom appointed it.

In the next place, as the death of this great perſon not only gave the higheſt atteſtation to the truth of his doctrine, and confirmed every word he had preached; to the encouragement of ſinners to repent, and the great conſolation of ſaints; but has afforded us ſuch a noble pattern of obedience, as muſt have an influence on intelligent beings, and excite them to practiſe obedience to all the commands of God, and perfect reſignation to his will in every caſe; which are ſome excellent reaſons for Chriſt's dying; ſo did Almighty God make this farther uſe of it, that he appointed the blood of Chriſt (which was ſhed to produce the eſſence of ſanctification in the ſoul, to wit, devotedneſs, truſt, and reſignation to the Almighty Father of the univerſe; to be the blood of anew covenant, ſhed for many for the remiſſion of ſins. This ſeems to me to take in the whole caſe. Chriſt by obedience to the death (which happened in the natural courſe of things) is held out to the [237]world a pattern of ſelf-ſacrifice in the cauſe of truth and virtue — a ſample of that perfect religion — not my will, but thine be done: the glorious goſpel is thereby confirmed: and our redemption is effected by the blood of the Son of God. As Moſes, the Mediator between God and Iſrael, repeated to the people the laws and judgments of God, and received their conſent to the divine commands; entered this covenant in his book, offered ſacrifices of praiſe and friendſhip, and then confirmed the covenant in the moſt ſolemn manner, by dividing the blood of the ſacrifices into parts; one part of which he ſprinkled on the altar, to ratify God's part of the covenant: and with the other part ſprinkled the people, that is, the twelve princes, the heads, or the twelve pillars, which repreſented the twelve tribes, and then awfully cried out with a ſtrong voice — Behold the blood of the covenant Jehovah has made with you: ſo did the Lord Jeſus Chriſt, the Mediator between God and all mankind, teach the people by his goſpel to rectify their notions, to regulate their affections, to direct their worſhip; with the judgments that were to be the conſequence of diſobedience, the rewards prepared for thoſe who obey; and then declared, in relation to his death, This is my blood of the new covenant. The blood I muſt ſhed on the croſs will ſeal, ratify, and confirm [238]a pardoning covenant, and by virtue thereof, upon repentance and converſion, the world is waſhed clean through the blood of the Lamb. This, I think for myſelf, renders the thing very plain and eaſy. The death of the Son of God was taken into the plan of redemption, not to pacify God's anger; for God could be no otherwiſe pleaſed or delighted with the blood of his Son, than as his ſhedding it was an act of the higheſt obedience, and a noble pattern to all the rational creation; but his blood was made the ſeal of a pardoning and juſtifying covenant; and by the death of Chriſt, (the moſt powerful means to prevent ſin, and to draw ſinners to obey the commands of heaven,) God demonſtrated his love and mercy to mankind. I fancy I am clear. In this view of the matter, I can ſee no difficulty in being juſtified freely by the grace of God, thro' the redemption which is in Chriſt Jeſus. God is the ſole original and fountain of redemption. The Son, and his goſpel are the great inſtruments. Lo! I come to do thy will, O my God, the Son declares: and the Blood he ſhed, the better to bring the human race to wiſdom, rectitude and happineſs, is appointed by our merciful, good, and gracious Father, to be the ſeal and ratifcation of a new covenant. Moloch might want a cruel and bloody ſacrifice to pacify him; but the Father of [239]the univerſe ſent his Chriſt to deliver his commands, and made the death, which he foreſaw would happen by his Son's delivering ſuch commands to impious men, to be a covenant between Jehovah and the people, that Jeſus ſhould be conſidered as a propitiation for our ſins, and his death be an eternal memorial of the Almighty's love, and abhorrence of iniquity. There can no objection lie againſt this. To me this appears the moſt rational and beautiful ſcheme that infinite wiſdom could contrive. Moſt glorious and good is our God. Moſt happy may mortals be, if they pleaſe. The virtuous obedience of our Lord hath obtained from God a right and power to aboliſh death. His blood hath confirmed the covenant of grace, and his goſpel hath brought life immortal into light.

Azora's account of grace.

As to the influence of the ſpirit, (Azora continued) that there is ſuch a living principle in the human ſoul, cannot I think be denied, if revelation is to be believed; but the mode of influencing is not perhaps to be explained otherwiſe than by ſaying, that our gracious and good Father makes now and then ſome friendly impreſſions upon our minds, and by repreſenting in ſeveral lights the terrors and promiſes of the goſpel, excites our hopes and fears. As I apprehend, we can go very little further. It is eaſy I think to prove from the ſcriptures, that as [240]the extraordinary aſſiſtance of the Holy Ghoſt was neceſſary for planting chriſtianity at firſt; ſo is a ſupernatural aſſiſtance of the Holy Ghoſt, tho' not in ſo illuſtrious a manner, ſtill neceſſary to enable us to perform the conditions of the goſpel. Tho' God has recalled the more viſible ſigns of his preſence, yet to be ſure he continues to influence ſome way or other. I cannot ſuppoſe the Holy Ghoſt has wholly withdrawn himſelf from the church. The renewing of the Holy Ghoſt (St. Peter ſays) was a promiſe made to them and to their children, and to thoſe that were afar off, even as many as God ſhould call; and as human nature has the ſame weakneſs and paſſions, and extravagancies of former ages, there is as much need of a divine aſſiſtance now as in the time of the apoſtles: nay more need, I think, at preſent, as miracles are ceaſed. There muſt be a weight of ſupernatural power to preſs within, as there are now no flaſhings from the ſky, or extraordinary appearances without, to prove the certainty of our religion, and make us conſider its promiſes, threatenings, and rules: but the way this ſupernatural principle acts, as before obſerved, is hard to determine, any more than what I have ſaid, and inſtead of waſting our time in enquiries how the thing is done, our buſineſs is to render ourſelves capable of ſo great a bleſſing, by not grieving [241]this holy ſpirit, leſt he depart from us; and reſolving with the pſalmiſt, to walk with a perfect heart, and to ſet no wicked thing before our eyes. We muſt ſtrive to improve religious thoughts: we muſt labour hard to obey the written rules: God will then give us the grace ſufficient for us. To our conſiderable talent of natural power to do good, our Father will add the advantages of his his ſpirit. If we deſire to be good, he will make us good in conjunction with our own application and pains; by a gradual proceſs, and human methods. If nature gives her utmoſt actings, the author of nature will move, and direct and aſſiſt her where ſhe is weak. Both the grace and the providence of God may be likened to a little ſpring concealed within a great machine: to the known given powers of the machine, the operations of it are aſcribed, and all its events imputed; yet it is the ſmall ſecreted ſpring that directs, draws, checks, and gives movement to every weight and wheel. The caſe cannot be exactly alike, as a compound of matter and ſpirit is different from a machine: but it may ſuggeſt I imagine ſome imperfect idea of the affair: a very imperfect one, I confeſs, for if we were thinking ever ſo long of the matter, grace after all would be what the apoſtle calls it, an unſpeakable gift — A gift ſurmounting our apprehenſions as well as [242]it does our merit. The theory of it may be perhaps too excellent for us, and our part is, not to determine how, but with honeſt hearts to pray, that a ray from heaven may open, and ſhine upon our underſtanding, clear it from prejudices and impoſtures, and render it teachable, conſiderative and firm; may inſpire good thoughts, excite good purpoſes, and ſuggeſt wholeſome counſels and expedients. This the divine power may eaſily do, without depriving us of freewill, or leſſening our own moral agency. That power may extinguiſh an imagination we ſtrive to get rid of: may remove an impediment we labour to be freed from: may foil a temptation we do our beſt to reſiſt. If we do all we can, and implore the divine aid, there is no doubt but the Almighty may give his free creatures ſuch powers and diſpoſitions, as will carry them innocently and ſafely thro' the trial of this firſt ſtate. On ſuch conditions, God, the Father of ſpirits, the friend of men, the patron of righteouſneſs and all virtue, will, without all peradventure, diſtribute his grace to every mortal in proportion to the meaſures of neceſſary duty.

A reflection on Azora's diſcourſe.

Here Azora ended, and I ſat for ſome minutes after in great admiration. Her fancy furniſhed ideas ſo very faſt, and ſpeaking was ſo very eaſy to her, without one pang in [243]the delivery, or the leaſt heſitation for hours, as ſhe could, if ſhe pleaſed, ſo long diſcourſe; her judgment was ſo ſtrong, and her words ſo proper and well placed, that ſhe appeared to me a prodigy in ſpeaking, and I could have liſtened to her with delight and amazement the whole night. But exactly at ten o'clock, the old woman I mentioned before, who firſt bid me welcome to Burcot Lodge, came into the chamber with candles, and Azora told me, Gladuſe, the old woman, conducts me to a bed in her cottage. that if I would follow Gladuſe, ſhe would light me to bed. I did immediately, after wiſhing the ladies good night, and my guide brought me to her own cottage, which was next door to the grotto. She ſhewed me into a ſmall clean room, neatly and prettily furniſhed, and there I found a good bed. Down I lay as ſoon as I could, being much fatigued, and as the ſun was riſing, got up again, to write what I could remember to have heard Azora ſay. My memory from my childhood has been very extraordinary. I believe there are few living exceed me in this reſpect. The greateſt part of what I read and hear, remains with me, as if the book was ſtill before me, or the ſpeaker going on. This enables me to write down, with much exactneſs, what I care to note, and I can do it for the moſt part in the relater's or talker's own words, if I minute it in my ſhort hand within twentyfour [244]hours after reading or diſcourſing. Upon this account, I can ſay, that I loſt very little of all that Azora was pleaſed to let me hear; or, of the diſcourſes I had with her ingenious companion, Antonia Fletcher.

The gardens of Burcot Lodge.

When I had done writing, I went out to wait upon the ladies, and found them in their fine gardens, buſily employed in the uſeful and innocent diverſion which the cultivation of ſome of the greateſt beauties of the creation affords. They had every kind of fruit tree in their ground, every plant and flower that grows, and ſuch a variety of exotic rarities from the hotter climates, as engaged my admiration, and finely entertained me for many an hour, during my ſtay in this place. They both underſtood gardening to perfection, and continually lent their helping hands to the propagation of every thing. The digging and laborious work was performed by many young women, who did it with great activity and underſtanding, and the nicer parts theſe ladies executed. I was aſtoniſhed and delighted with their operations of various kinds. It was beautiful to ſee with what exquiſite ſkill they uſed the knife, managed graffs and cyons, directed the branches and twigs in poſture on eſpaliers, and raiſed flowers. They had every thing in perfection in their kitchen garden and phyſic garden. Their fruits, roots, and [245]herbs for the table, were moſt excellent: their collection of herbs for medicine the moſt valuable: and as the whole contrivance of the gardens was near nature, and beautiful in graſs, gravel, and variety of evergreens, I was led with delight thro' the whole, till I came into the green-houſe. There I ſaw Azora and Antonia at work, and paid them the compliments they deſerved.

A further account of Azora.

Immediately after my arrival, breakfaſt was brought in there, chocolate and toaſts, and the ladies were extremely pleaſant over it. They aſked me a great many queſtions about the world, and were ſo facetious in their remarks, and pleaſed with my odd account of things, that they laughed as heartily as I did, and that was at no ſmall rate. This being done, we walked over every part of the gardens, and Azora did me the honour not only to ſhew me all the curioſities, and improvements ſhe had made, in the management of ſeeds, flowers, plants, and trees; but, lectured on various fine objects that appeared in our way, with a volubility of tongue, and a knowledge of the ſubjects, that was amazing indeed. Were I to ſet down what ſhe ſaid even on ſallads, cucumbers, colliflowers, melons, aſparagus, early cabbages, ſtrawberries, raſberries, currants, gooſberries, apples, pears, plums, cherries, apricots, etc, and eſpecially, her propagation of muſhrooms, champignons, [246]and buttons; this, excluſive of exotics and flowers, would make I believe an octavo: and in relation to exotics and flowers, I am ſure ſhe talked twice as much, and of every thing extremely well. I never did hear any thing like her. The diſcourſe coſt her no more than the breath of her noſtrils.

Azora's fiſh-pond.

But at laſt we came to a fiſh-pond, that was an acre of water, and I aſſure you, reader, that in half an hour's time, the illuſtrious Azora not only talked more of fiſh and ponds than the ingenious and honourable Roger North, of Rougham in Norfolk, hath written on theſe ſubjects in his excellent diſcourſe, printed in 1713; but, mentioned many uſeful things relative to them, which Mr. North was a ſtranger to. She told me, among other matters, that there was only pike and perch in her pond, and that the reaſon of it was, becauſe ſhe loved pike above all fiſh, and as the jacks were fiſh of prey, no fiſh but the perch could live with them: The perch on account of the thorny fins on its back, eſcapes the pike's voracious appetite. She farther informed me, that the jacks in her pond were the fineſt in the world, as I would ſee at dinner, and that the reaſon of it was owing to the high feeding ſhe took care they had every day: beſide the entrails of what fowl and ſheep her people killed for her table and themſelves, the pike had blood and [247]bran mixed in plenty, and all the frogs ſhe could get from a neighbouring fen; for of them the jacks are moſt fond. This made the fiſh extraordinary: and as the water was current thro' the pond, and the bottom of various depths from one foot, and two feet, to ſix feet, that the ſpawn may have ſhallow water to lie in, and the fry ſhallow water to ſwim in, as they both required, this was the reaſon, that one acre of water in ſuch a manner, produced double the quantity of fiſh to what a pond of ſtill water, and a bottom all of one depth, could have. See (Azora continued) what multitudes there are. They know me, as I feed them myſelf every day, and tamely come up, cruel tyrants as they are, to get their meat. Here ſhe called jack, jack, and throwing in a baſket of unfortunate frogs, it was wonderful to ſee how thoſe devouring monſters appeared, and voraciouſly ſwallowed the poor things.

An account of the public worſhip at Burcot-Lodge.

Azora was going to proceed to another pond of carp and tench, which ſhe had at the other end of her gardens, and let me know how that was ordered, ſo as to produce the largeſt and fineſt fiſh: but a bell rung for morning prayers, at ten o'clock, and ſhe immediately turned towards a chapel. She aſked me if I would attend divine ſervice, and upon my anſwering, with pleaſure, deſired me to come on. In the church I [248]ſaw every ſoul of the community aſſembled, and while I choſe to ſit on one of the benches among the people, at ſome diſtance, that I might the better obſerve every thing done, the ladies aſcended by a few ſteps into a reading deſk, and Azora began with great devotion, to pray in the following manner:

Morning prayer.

O Chriſt, our bleſſed mediator, pray for us that our faith fail not, and thro' thy merits and interceſſion, Lord Jeſus, let our prayer be ſet forth in the ſight of Almighty God as incenſe, and the lifting up of our hands as a morning ſacrifice.

Almighty and everlaſting God, thou pure and infinite Spirit, who art the great cauſe and author of nature, and haſt eſtabliſhed the world by thy wiſdom, and ſtretched out the heavens by thy diſcretion; upon whom depends the exiſtence of all things, and by whoſe providence we have been preſerved to this moment, and enjoyed many bleſſings and undeſerved advantages; graciouſly accept, we beſeech thee, our grateful ſenſe and acknowledgements of all thy beneficence towards us; accept, O Lord, our moſt hearty and unfeigned thanks for all the inſtances of thy favor which we have experienced; that we have the uſe of our reaſon and underſtanding, in which many fail, and have had refreſhing ſleep and quiet the paſt night; for delivering us from evil, and giving us our [249]daily bread;—for all the neceſſaries, conveniencies, and comforts, which thy liberal hand haſt provided for us, to ſweeten human life, and render it more agreeable than otherwiſe it could be in this day of our exerciſe, probation and trial. While we live, we will praiſe and magnify thy awful name, and join in aſcribing with the glorious and innumerable heavenly hoſt, honour, power, and thankſgiving to the eternal God, who ſits on the throne of ſupremacy unrivalled in majeſty and power.

But eſpecially, O great and bleſſed God, adored be thy goodneſs for ſo loving the world, as to give thy only begotten Son, to the end, that all who believe in him, ſhould not periſh, but have everlaſting life; for his humbling himſelf even to the death upon the croſs, and ſhedding his blood for the remiſſion of our ſins. Great and marvellous are thy works of mercy, O Lord God Almighty! who can utter all thy praiſe? Praiſe our God, all ye his ſervants, and ye that fear him, ſmall and great. Amen; allelujah. Bleſſing and honour, and glory, and power be unto him that ſitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever.

O God and Father of our Lord Jeſus Chriſt, have mercy on us duſt and ſin, weakneſs and imperfection, and enter not into ſtrict judgment with us, thine unrighteous [250]and unworthy ſervants. We confeſs with ſhame and grief, that we have violated thine holy laws, and abuſed thy tender mercies: that we have followed too much the devices and deſires of our own hearts, and in numberleſs inſtances have offended againſt a moſt righteous governor, a moſt tender and compaſſionate Father, and a moſt kind and bounteous benefactor. In thought, word, and deed, many have been our offences: and many are ſtill our imperfections. We have ſinned againſt Heaven, and before thee, and have thereby deſerved thy juſt diſpleaſure. But our hope and confidence is in thine infinite mercy, O God, and that according to thy promiſes declared unto mankind in Chriſt Jeſus, our Lord, thou wilt ſpare them who confeſs their faults, and reſtore them that are penitent. We do earneſtly repent, and are heartily ſorry for all our misdoings. Thro' faith we offer up the Lamb that was ſlain to the eternal God for the redemption of our ſouls; believing the worthineſs of our Lord Jeſus Chriſt to be a full, perfect, and ſufficient ſacrifice, oblation and atonement for the ſins of a repenting world, and therefore reſolving, with all our ſtrength, to imitate his ſpotleſs virtue, and perfect obedience. Pardon us, then, we beſeech thee, and blot out our iniquities. Deliver us, we pray, in the name of the [251]Lord Jeſus, from the evil conſequences of all our tranſgreſſions and follies, and give us ſuch powers and diſpoſitions as will carry us innocently and ſafely thro' all future trials.

Create in us, O God, pure hearts, and renew right ſpirits within us. Caſt thy bright beams of light upon our ſouls, and irradiate our underſtandings with the rays of that wiſdom which ſitteth on the right hand of thy throne. Let thy holy ſpirit enable us to act up to the dignity of our reaſonable nature, and ſuitably to the high character, and glorious hopes of chriſtians: that we may ſubordinate the affairs and tranſactions of time to ſerve the intereſt of our ſouls in eternity: that we may ſhake off this vain world, and breathe after immortality and glory: that we may live in perfect reconciliation with the law of everlaſting righteouſneſs, truth, and goodneſs; and ſo comply with thy nature, mind, and will, O eternal and ſovereign ſpirit, thou God moſt wonderful in all perfections, that we may fully anſwer the relation we ſtand in to thee. Relieve and eaſe our conſciences, O bleſſed God, by the blood of ſprinkling, according to our ſeveral conditions of body and mind; and ſupply us with ſuitable grace and ſtrength.

We beſeech thee, in the next place, Almighty Lord, to take us into thy protection this day, and ſuffer no Being to injure us, no misfotune [252]to befal us, nor us to hurt ourſelves by any error or miſconduct of our own. Give us, O God, a clear conception of things, and in all dangers and diſtreſſes, ſtretch forth the right hand of thy Majeſty to help and defend us. From ſickneſs and pain, and from all evil and miſchief, good Lord deliver us this day, and be propitious unto us, we beſeech thee.

And while we remain in this world, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, ſecure us from every thing that is terrible and hurtful, and keep us in peace and ſafety. From all ſad accidents and calamitous events, from all tormenting pains and grievous diſeaſes, good Lord deliver us; and bleſs us with ſo much health and proſperity, as will enable us to paſs our time here in contentment and tranquillity.

And when the time of our diſſolution cometh, by the appointment of thy adorable wiſdom, O Father of mercies and the God of all comforts, grant us a decent and happy exit; without diſtraction of mind or torments of body: let thy ſervants depart in peace, and ſuddenly die in the Lord.

We pray, likewiſe, for the happineſs of all mankind: that they may all know, and obey, and worſhip thee, O Father, in ſpirit and in truth, and that all who name the name of Chriſt, may depart from iniquity, [253]and live as becomes his holy goſpel. We beſeech thee to help and comfort all who are in danger, neceſſity, ſickneſs, and tribulation: that it may pleaſe thee to ſanctify their afflictions, and in thy good time to deliver them out of all their diſtreſſes. If we have any enemies, O Lord forgive them, and turn their hearts.

Our Father, etc.

When this extraordinary prayer was done, (which was prayed with a very uncommon devotion, ſuch as I never had ſeen before) they all ſtood up, and Azora ſaid, Let us ſing the nineteenth pſalm to the praiſe and glory of the moſt high God, and immediately raiſed it. Then all the people joined, and a pſalm was ſung to perfection indeed. Azora and Antonia had delightful voices, and as they underſtood muſic very well, they had taught this congregation ſo much church harmony, as enabled them to perform beyond any thing I have ever heard in any aſſembly of people.—The whole ſcene was a ſtrange and pleaſing thing. They met again at four in the afternoon; and this is the work of their every day. At ten and four they go to prayers, and after it ſing a pſalm; concludeing always in the following way.—May the grace of our Lord Jeſus Chriſt procure us the love of God, that the Almighty Father of [254]the univerſe may bleſs us with the heavenly aſſiſtance of the Holy Ghoſt.

As to the evening-office of devotion at this place, it was, excluſive of the firſt addreſs, and the concluding Lord's Prayer, quite different from that of the morning; and becauſe ſome readers may be pleaſed with a ſight of another of Azora's religious compoſitions, I here ſet it down.

Evening prayer at Burcot Lodge.

O Chriſt, our bleſſed mediator, pray for us, that our faith fail not, and through thy merits and interceſſion, Lord Jeſus, let our prayer be ſet forth in the ſight of Almighty God as incenſe, and the lifting up of our hands as an evening-ſacrifice.

O God, who art the Father and Lord of all Beings, and the eternal and inexhauſtible fountain of mercy, we beſeech thee to be merciful unto us, and to blot out all our tranſgreſſions; for we truly repent of our wilful imperfections, our failings and neglects, in every inſtance of thy law, and our duty: and thro' faith we offer up to thee the Lamb that was ſlain for the redemption of our ſouls; believing the worthineſs of our Lord Jeſus to be a full, perfect, and ſufficient ſacrifice, oblation and atonement for the ſins of a repenting world, and therefore reſolving, with all our ſtrength, to imitate his ſpotleſs virtue and perfect obedience.

[255]

Remember not, then, O Lord, our iniquities, neither take thou vengeance for our ſins; but as we ſincerely believe thy holy goſpel, and are truly penitent, as we intirely and willingly forgive all, who have, in any inſtance or in any degree, offended, or injured us, and are truly diſpoſed and ready to make all poſſible reparation, if we have injured any one, have mercy upon us miſerable ſinners, and as thou haſt promiſed by thy Son, pardon and forgive us all our ſins, and reſtore us again to thy favor. Hear in heaven, thy dwelling place, and when thou heareſt, accept us to thy mercy. O ſpare us whom thou haſt redeemed by thy Son's moſt precious blood, and make us partakers of that ſalvation which thou haſt appointed in Chriſt Jeſus our Lord, and our ſouls ſhall bleſs thee to eternity.

And that we may no more offend thee, or tranſgreſs the rule of virtue or true religion, but may hereafter truly pleaſe thee both in will and deed, and faithfully obſerve the right ſtatutes, and all thy precepts, endue us, O Lord, with the grace of thy holy ſpirit, that we may amend our lives according to thy holy word. Vouchſafe we beſeech thee, to direct, ſanctify and govern both our hearts and bodies in the ways of thy laws, and in the works of thy commandments; and ſo teach us to number our days, [256]that we may apply our hearts unto wiſdom, and mind thoſe things which are in conjunction with our everlaſting welfare.—O let us be always under thy communication and influence, and give that light to our minds, that life to our ſouls, that will raiſe us to a nearer reſemblance of thee, and enable us to aſcend ſtill higher, towards the perfection of our nature. Let us be transformed by the working of thy grace and ſpirit into the image of thy Son. Conform us to his likeneſs, O bleſſed God, and make us, body and ſoul, an habitation for thyſelf; that in our hearts we may continually offer up to thee, holy, ſublime, and ſpiritual ſacrifices.

From all evil and miſchief, good God deliver us, and defend us, we beſeech thee, from every thing terrible and hurtful. Take us under thy protection the remaining part of this day, and grant us a night of peace, thro' Jeſus Chriſt our Lord.

And foraſmuch as our earthly houſe of this tabernacle ſhall be diſſolved, and that in a few years at fartheſt, it may be in a few minutes, we muſt deſcend to the bed of darkneſs, and acknowledge corruption to be our father, and the worms our ſiſter and mother, grant, O everlaſting God, that we may depart in peace, and by an improved princiciple of divine life, under the influence of the goſpel, be tranſlated to that eternal world, [257]where God dwells, where Chriſt lives, and ſanctified ſouls enjoy endleſs life and the pureſt pleaſures, for evermore.

That it may pleaſe thee, moſt gracious and good God, to have mercy on the whole race of mankind, and to bleſs them with all things pertaining to life and godlineſs: let the light of thy glorious goſpel ſhine upon the nations darkened by ſuperſtition, that they may worſhip thee who art God from everlaſting to everlaſting, and cultivate and eſtabliſh in their minds the moſt pure, benevolent, and godlike diſpoſitions.—We beſeech thee for all chriſtian churches; that their behaviour may, by the influence of thy bleſſed ſpirit, be ſuitable to their holy profeſſion, and their converſation upright and unblameable. Where any have departed from the purity and ſimplicity of the goſpel, lead them, O God, to the right practice and knowledge of their holy religion; and grant that they may feel the comfortable and ſanctifying effects of it; and in their lives ſhew forth its praiſe to others.—We farther pray, moſt merciful Father, for all that are deſtitute or afflicted, either in body, mind, or eſtate; that from Heaven, the habitation of thy glory and goodneſs, thou mayeſt ſend them relief, and, if it be poſſible, put an end to their preſent calamities and troubles. O thou Father of mercies, and God of all [258]conſolation, bind up the broken in heart, and comfort thoſe that mourn. We have a real ſenſe of the miſeries of the diſtreſſed part of mankind, and offer up for them our prayers to thee, thro' Jeſus Chriſt our Lord.

A THANKSGIVING.

O God, the author of all good, and fountain of all happineſs, we offer up our thankſgivings and praiſes unto thee, for thy great goodneſs to us, and to all mankind. We praiſe and magnify thy holy name for all thy mercies; for our exiſtence, and the uſe of our reaſoning powers and faculties; for the health and ſtrength we enjoy, and for all the comforts and conveniencies of life: for theſe thy gifts we adore thee, O munificent parent of good, and pray that a deep and efficacious ſenſe of thy goodneſs may remain upon our hearts, and be a principle of conſtant and chearful obedience to thy holy laws.

But eſpecially we offer up the acknowledgements of our hearts and mouths for all that thy Son Jeſus Chriſt did, and taught, and ſuffered, in this world, to ſave us from our ſins, and to conduct us to true and everlaſting happineſs. We bleſs thee for the glorious goſpel, and for bringing us more effectually, by revelation, to the knowledge of thee, and the practice of our duty. For [259]this merciful appointment, and for all thy mercies, which reſpect another and a better life than the preſent; for every inſtance of thy tender regards to us, and for the manifold experiences which we have had of thy loving kindneſs; we offer up the tribute of unfeigned thanks. Our ſouls do magnify thee, O Lord God moſt excellent and good, and all the powers within us praiſe thy holy name. To thee be glory in the church by Chriſt Jeſus, throughout all ages, world without end. To thee, O thou God of love, be rendered by all beings endued with reaſon, all honour and obedience, both now, and for ever.

Almighty and everlaſting God, who haſt promiſed to hear the petitions of them that pray unto thee in thy Son's name, we beſeech thee of thy great mercy, to accept the ſacrifice of prayer and praiſe, which we have this evening offered up to thy Divine Majeſty; and for the relief of our wants, and the manifeſtation of thy power and glory, grant us thoſe things which we have requeſted, if thou ſeeſt it conſiſtent with our chief and eternal good. In the name of thy Son Jeſus Chriſt, and as his diſciples, we pray, and in his words conclude the ſervices of this day.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, etc.

After this, they all ſtood up, and as in the morning, Azora ſaid, let us ſing to the [260]praiſe and glory of God the 148th pſalm. She ſung the firſt verſe alone, and at the ſecond, they all joined, and went through the whole in a fine and heavenly manner. Then the ſervice concluded with this benediction.

The BENEDICTION.

May the God of grace and peace be with us and bleſs us. May his holy ſpirit keep us from falling, and preſerve us blameleſs, unto the coming of our Lord Jeſus Chriſt.

A reflection on the religion and piety of the inhabitants of Burcot-Hamlet.

Thus ended the evening and morning offices of worſhip at Burcot-Lodge, and as I cannot ſufficiently praiſe, ſo I could not enough admire the religion and piety of this congregation. The purity of their worſhip was charming: and in the ladies and their people a devotion was manifeſt, that looked more like that of heavenly ſpirits, than of beings in an animal frame; who are warped with the cuſtoms of the world, and perplexed with difficulties which ariſe from ſenſible objects. They appeared in high admiration of God, endeared to his righteous government, devoted to his holy laws, and powerfully drawn to imitate him in all his imitable perfections. Not one idle word, or careleſs look, did I hear or ſee, during the whole time of divine ſervice; but, [261]like creatures fixed unchangeably in the intereſt of religion and virtue, and delighted with the joys of piety, their hearts melted in every part of their devotions, and their breaſts were filled with the moſt grateful, tranſporting adorations and affections. So much beautiful religion I had not often ſeen in any aſſembly. They had a true ſenſe indeed of the love and goodneſs of God, and of the grace and charity of Jeſus Chriſt. They had all been carefully inſtructed by a wiſe and excellent man, who was not long ſince removed from them by death; and his daughter, the admirable Azora, in conjunction with his niece, the amiable Antonia, took all poſſible pains, ſince the deceaſe of Mr. Burcot, to maintain the power of religion in their community, and keep the people hearty and ſteady in the principles and practice of it. This brings me again to the hiſtory of Azora.

Continuation of the hiſtory of Azora.

Azora Burcot was the daughter of a gentleman who was one poſſeſſed of a very great fortune, but by a fatal paſſion for the grand operation, and an opinion of the poſſibility of finding the philoſopher's ſtone, he waſted immenſe ſums in operations to diſcover that preparation, which forces the faeces of infuſed metals to retire immediately on its approach, and ſo turns the reſt of the maſs into pure gold; communicating the malleability [262]and great ductility of that metal, and giving it true ſpecific gravity, that is, to water, as eighteen and one half is to one. His love of that fine, antient art, called chimiſtry, brought him into this misfortune. For improvement and pleaſure, he had been long engaged in various experiments, and at laſt, an adept came to his houſe, who was a man of great ſkill in the labours and operations of ſpagyriſts, and perſuaded him it was poſſible to find the ſtone; for he, the adept, had ſeen it with a brother, who had been ſo fortunate as to diſcover it, after much labor and operation. The colour of it was a pale brimſtone and tranſparent, and the ſize that of a ſmall walnut. He affirmed that he had ſeen a little of this, ſcraped into powder, caſt into ſome melted lead, and turn it into the beſt and fineſt gold. This had the effect the adept deſired, and from chymiſtry brought Mr. Burcot to Alchimy. Heaps of money he waſted in operations of the moſt noble elixir by mineral and ſalt; but the ſtone after all he could not find: and then, by the adept's advice, he proceeded in a ſecond method, by maturation, to ſubtilize, purify, and digeſt quickſilver, and thereby convert it into gold (20.) This likewiſe [263]wiſe came to nothing, and inſtead of the gold he expected, he had only heaps of Mercury fixed with verdegreaſe, (which [264]gives it a yellow tinge), and more deeply coloured with turmeric. Gold it ſeemed, but, on trial in the coppel, it flew away in fumes [265]and the adept made off. Too late this good and learned man ſaw he had been impoſed on, and that the Spagyriſts are what Dr. Dickenſon calls them Enigmatiſtinubivagi.

Chymiſtry, reader, is a fine and antient art. The analyſing of ſenſible bodies by fire, to diſcover their real powers and virtues, is highly praiſe-worthy, and the ſurpriſing experiments we make, fill the mind of an inquirer after truth, with the greateſt veneration for the wonderful author of nature: but more than this is a ſad romance that ends in empty pockets. Never think then of the hermetical banquet, Glauber's golden aſs, or the philoſopher's magical gold. By the law of honeſt induſtry, endeavour to be rich if you can, for this ſole reaſon, that it is more bleſſed to give than to receive; and if that lies not within your capacity, or means, be content with peace and little. There is more true happineſs in daily bread and the poſſeſſion of the divine and ſocial virtues, than in [266]tons of gold without holineſs and a ſtrong attachment to virtue.

When Mr. Burcot found he had almoſt ruined himſelf, and that he was no longer able to live as he had done, he laid his melancholy caſe before his daughter Azora, and aſked her advice, What he ſhould do? To retire immediately, (Azora ſaid) to this part of Stanemore, which was an unvalued part of his eſtate, and bring as many of his tenants as he could perſuade to inhabit this fine tract of land: — to ſell what remained of his fortune, and with the money procure as many of the neceſſaries or comforts of living as could be had: to get in particular ſome young tradeſmen and their wives by offered rewards in this place; to build cottages for the people; and render the fine caverns in the rock as habitable and pleaſing for themſelves as art could render them. Here, (Azora told her father) we ſhall live more happy than we could do, if ſtill poſſeſſed of a fortune to make an appearance in the world. We ſhall enjoy by induſtry and prudence every good thing that rational life can require, and live ſecured from the ſtrokes of fortune, and the world's contempt. Strangers to vanity and the pleaſures of high life, in this delightful retreat, we ſhall paſs our happy [267]days as in a region of goodneſs, knowledge, and joy; and the predominant bent of our hearts will be to wiſdom, and virtue, and to aſcend into the realms of perfect day. — Happy advice, (the father of Azora ſaid), and the thing was immediately done. A colony was quickly eſtabliſhed here, and every thing was ſettled and ordered in the moſt advantageous manner. Cattle, inſtruments, and grain to ſow the land were ſent in; cloaths and every material the little republic could want were provided, and every hand was as uſeful as we could wiſh. For four years (Azora continued to inform me), we lived in peace and tranquillity, and never once regretted the loſs of our fortunes. We were happier far than when we had thouſands. Induſtry, knowledge, and religion, were our employment. The night to come of pain and death gave us no uneaſineſs. We lived as the chriſtians of the two firſt centuries, and rather longed for than feared that event, which is to remove us to growing brightneſs for ever and ever. But a fever came in among us, and ſwept away my father, and every man of our little republic: ſeveral women likewiſe periſhed; but a hundred ſouls remained. Ninety-eight women, beſides Antonia and Azora. Theſe loved me too well (Azora continued) to abandon me; and as they were happily ſituated, and many of them had learned their huſband's [268]trades, they agreed and ſwore to ſpend their lives with me here, and be as ſerviceable as poſſible, without admitting any men to live among us. They are ſo in the higheſt degree: they are all uſeful and pious as I could wiſh them, and under the heavens there is not a happier ſociety of mortal. We have the beſt of every thing: all we want, and in reaſon could wiſh for.

A farther account of Azora

Here Azora ended her relation, and I wondered greatly at what I heard; nor did my admiration leſſen when I ſaw how ſhe governed this community, and they employed their time. Her great underſtanding enlightened and directed them, in the execution of every thing ſerviceable and ingenious; and ſhe lived before their eyes an example of the greateſt induſtry, and the moſt exalted piety. They, on the other hand, were as uſeful and religious as poſſible, and ſo heartily and faithfully diſcharged ſocial duties, in every inſtance, that they ſeemed as one great capacity and power at work, to promote every convenience and good. Some of them, as I have ſaid, were at work in the gardens: others in the fields: various trades and occupations were going on within doors and without, and all were employed in ways that beſt ſubſerved the general welfare. In their behaviour, there was nothing wild, inſolent, or arch, to be ſeen: no ſwellings of vanity and pride: no paſſion to diſoblige: no [269]intention to offend: but, every one, diſcreet and calm; good-humoured, and very civil; worthily ſuſtaining their various relations, and each attentive to her own incumbent duty. Their labours were but a diverſion to them, and they lived in tranquillity and plenty. Their cloathing was coarſe, but very good, clean, and handſome. There was not one ragged or dirty perſon among them; nor any with bad ſhoes and ſtockings. In all reſpects, they ſeemed a moſt happy community. Azora ſtudied, to the utmoſt degree, the advantage and happineſs of theſe people: and they, in return, made their duty a vigorous and chearful ſervice. Moſt of the conveniences and comforts of life they had within their own little territory; fleſh and fiſh, mutton, kid, and veniſon; corn for bread, every vegetable; malt-drink, meath, and cyder; all in great plenty, and moſt excellent; wool and flax for clothing; good candles; and wood enough for firing. What things they wanted two of them rid for to the neareſt town, and not only purchaſed ſuch goods with the money they got by ſale of ſeveral commodities; eſpecially knit thread ſtockings and gloves; but always at ſuch times brought in ſome caſh to their miſtreſs, and ſhe gave part of it among the people, to buy them little things they fanſied.

Ten extraordinary country girls.

[270]As to the ten young women I mentioned, who walked after Azora when firſt I ſaw her, they were the daughters of ſome widows in this little republic, and by her choſen, not only to be her attendants and upper ſervants, and to look after her dairy, her bees, her poultry; and her aviary; (which was the fineſt I have ever ſeen, for the variety of birds, and as it was turfed, to avoid the appearance of foulneſs on the floor, and ſo large as to give the birds ſome freedom of flight); but, on account of their good underſtanding, in which they far excelled their fellows. Theſe girls were carefully inſtructed by Azora and Antonia, and beſide being taught the fine works of the needle, learned muſick, and the elements of the mathematicks from the ladies. The eldeſt of theſe girls was but twenty, and the youngeſt eighteen, and they all ſurprized me very greatly with their quickneſs in anſwering very hard arithmetical queſtions. They could not only add, ſubtract, multiply, divide, find a fourth proportional, and extract roots of every kind, with exactneſs and readineſs, and apply them upon all common occaſions; but, were perfect in fractions vulgar and decimal. They had even gone as far in algebra as the reſolution of ſimple equations.

[271]Finding them one morning at figures, I aſked the youngeſt of them, What was the number, that ⅔ of it with 4 over, amounted to the ſame as 7/12 of it with 9 over? She immediately tranſlated the queſtion from common language into algebra 2x/3 + 4 = 7x/12 + 9: and quickly diſcovered the unknown quantity x to be x=60: Then ſhe took it in ſinthetically, ⅔ of 60 = 40 + 4 = 44: 7/12 of 60 = 35 + 9 = 44. — (Sinthetically is tracing property from number: —Analetically is tracing number from property.) This made me wonder very greatly. I aſked another of them, if ſhe bought 20 loaves for 16 pence, all of them two-penny, penny, and farthing ones — how many would ſhe have of each? She anſwered 5 two-penny loaves, 3 penny ones, and 12 farthing loaves; for the equations were x + y + z = 20 and 8x + 4y = z = 64. From whence by ſubtraction, 7x + 3y = 44, and of conſequence, y = 44 − 7x/3 = 14 − 2x + 2 − x / 3;

I aſked a third, how many ways ſhe could pay 20 l. in piſtoles, guineas, and moidores, at 17 s. 21 s, and 27 s. the piſtole, the guinea, and the moidore? — She replied in a very little time, 9 ways, to wit, 11 piſtoles, 5 guineas, and 4 moidores — 8 piſtoles, 1 guinea, 9 moidores— 8 piſtoles, 10 guineas, 2 moidores — 17 piſtoles, 4 guineas, 1 moidore — 2 piſtoles, 2 guineas, 12 moidores — 2 piſtoles, [272]11 guineas, 5 moidores — 5 piſtoles, 6 guineas, 7 moidores — 5, 15, 0 — and 14 piſtoles, 0 guineas, 6 moidores. This was a hard operation.

I aſked another of theſe young women, if her lady gave her 297 guineas and 339 piſtoles, to pay 6 men a hundred pounds a-piece in guineas and piſtoles only, as was agreed, how could ſhe contrive to pay them, and diſpatch the thing? I will tell you, ſir, (ſhe anſwered) very ſoon. x repreſents my guineas, and y my piſtoles, and 21x + 17y = 2000, of conſequence, x = 2000 − 17y/21 = 95 + 5 − 17y/21; etc. and quickly diſcovered, that the firſt man ſhould have 92 guineas and 4 piſtoles: — the ſecond man, 75 guineas and 25 piſtoles: — the third, 58 guineas, 46 piſtoles — the fourth, 41 guineas and 67 piſtoles — the fifth, 24 guineas and 88 piſtoles: — and the ſixth man, 7 guineas and 109 piſtoles. This was admirable. But is there no other way I ſaid of paying 100 l. in guineas and piſtoles, beſides the ſix ways you have mentioned? There is no other way: (the fine girl anſwered). If a ſeventh man was to be paid 100 l. in theſe two kinds of money, he muſt be paid in one of theſe ſix methods. This was true. I was charmed with what I had heard.

[273]While I was thus engaged with the maids, Azora and Antonia came into the room, and finding how I had been employed, they began to talk of problems, theorems, and equations, and ſoon convinced me, that I was not ſuperior to them in this kind of knowledge; tho' I had ſtudied it for a much longer time, and had taken more pains than ever they did. Their fine underſtandings ſaw at once the things that had made me ſweat many an hour, and in leſs time than I required for an operation, they could anſwer the moſt difficult queſtions, and do any thing in ſimple quadratic equations, and in the compoſition and reſolution of ratios. This I thought very wonderful; eſpecially as they had been taught no longer than one year by Mr. Burcot; and that they had acquired the moſt abſtruſe part of their knowledge by their own application. — I note the thing down as one of the ſtrangeſt and moſt extraordinary caſes that ever came in my way; perhaps, that ever was heard. It is ſuch a ſpecimen of female underſtanding, as muſt for ever knock up the poſitive aſſertions of ſome learned men, who will not allow that women have as ſtrong reaſoning heads as the men.

An obſervation relative to the underſtanding of women.

By the way, I obſerve, excluſive of theſe two ladies, that I have ſeen many of the [274]ſex who were diſtinguiſhed for accuracy and comprehenſiveneſs, not only in the ſcience, where known and required qualities are denoted by letters, but in other fine parts of learning. I have little right to pretend to any thing extraordinary in underſtanding, as my genius is ſlow, and ſuch as is common in the lower claſſes of men of letters; yet, my application has been very great: my whole life has been ſpent in reading and thinking: and nevertheleſs, I have met with many women, in my time, who, with very little reading, have been too hard for me on ſeveral ſubjects. In juſtice, I declare this; and am very certain from what I have heard numbers of them ſay, and ſeen ſome of them write, that if they had the laboured education the men have, and applied to books with all poſſible attention for as many years as we do; there would be found among them as great divines as Epiſcopius, Limborch, Whichcote, Barrow, Tillotſon, and Clarke; and as great mathematicians, as Maclaurin, Saunderſon, and Simpſon. The criticks may laugh at this aſſertion, I know they will: and, if they pleaſe, they may doubt my veracity as to what I relate of the two ladies, and the ten young women, in Burcot-Hamlet; but what I ſay is true notwithſtanding. Facts are things too ſtubborn [275]to be deſtroyed by laughing and doubting.

As to the ladies I have mentioned, they both did wonders in ſpecious arithmetick; but Azora was the brighteſt of the two, and in pure algebra, had gone much farther than Antonia. With wonder I beheld her, while ſhe anſwered the moſt difficult queſtions as faſt as fingers could move; and in the ſolution of cubics, and the reſolution of equations, both according to Des Cartes laborious method, and the better univerſal way, by converging ſeries, work with a celerity and truth beyond what I have ever ſeen any man do. Nor was it only algebra independent of geometry that ſhe underſtood. She could apply its reaſoning to geometrical figures, and deſcribe the loci of any equations by the mechanical motion of angles and lines. She was in this reſpect the greateſt prodigy I ever ſaw.

But it was not on account of this excellence that I ſo much admired Azora, and honour her memory ſo greatly as I do; nor becauſe ſhe talked ſo excellently on various ſubjects, as I have related; but, for her knowledge of the truths of chriſtianity, and the habits of goodneſs ſhe had wrought into her ſoul; for the care ſhe took of the people under her government, by communicating every felicity in her power, to their bodies [276]and minds; and the pure religion of Chriſt Jeſus, which ſhe publickly maintained, in all the beauty of holineſs, and in a juſt fervor of practice. She was herſelf, in her manners and piety, a fine copy of thoſe bleſſed women who converſed with our Lord and his apoſtles: and her ſociety, in innocence and goodneſs, in uſefulneſs and devotion, ſeemed an epitome of the firſt chriſtian church at Jeruſalem. Under a juſt impreſſion of the moſt heavenly principles they all lived, and ſtrictly regarded their ſeveral offices. As the goſpel directs, they worſhipped a firſt cauſe, the Deity, as the diſciples of the Chriſt of God, our holy mediator; and the authority of a Being of infinite wiſdom, and unchangeable rectitude of nature, had made ſuch an impreſſion upon their minds, that they laboured continually to acquire that conſecration and ſanctity of heart and manners, which our divine religion requires. Excellent community! happy would Europe be, if all her ſtates were like this people. A falſe religion would not then prevail; nor would ſuperſtition be the idol to which the world bows down. The evils, which now diſhonour human nature, and infeſt ſociety, would not be ſeen among us; nor thoſe exceſſes of paſſion be known, which are the parent of diſcord and calamity, and render this lower world one ſcene of ſin and ſorrow: but, as [277]revelation inculcates, as reaſon ſuggeſts, mankind would worſhip the Almighty Principle, the One God, the Only True God, with a worſhip ſuitable to the nature of a Being, who is not confined to, or dependent upon, particular places and circumſtances, who is always, and every where preſent with us; and like the miniſters attending on the glorious throne of the Monarch of the world, they would, according to their meaſure, be pure, benevolent mortals, and as perfect in goodneſs, as men can be within the degree and limit of their nature.—In a word, the Supreme Father of all things would then be the God of all chriſtians; and in doing his will, in imitating his perfections, and in practiſing every thing recommended by the great and univerſal law of reaſon, (that law which God ſent our Lord to revive and enforce), they would find the greateſt pleaſure. Such were the people of Burcot-Hamlet. Azora and Antonia were indeed moſt glorious women (21) .

45. July 19, 1726. We depart from Burcot-Hamlet, and arrive at a burning valley.

[278]

The 18th of June, 1725, I took my leave of Mrs. Burcot and Mrs. Fletcher, (for ſo they would be called, as they informed [279]me, after I had once uſed the word Miſs), and from this fine place, proceeded on my [280]journey, by a paper of written directions had received from them; as there was a pretty good, tho' a long and tedious way out [281]of the mountains, if a traveller knew the paſſes and turnings; but otherwiſe, it was either impoſſible to go on; or, a man muſt journey at the hazard of his life a thouſand [282]times a day, in croſſing waters and precipices.

[283]Our firſt labour was to aſcend a very narrow ſteep way in the ſide of a mountain, which went up due north for a full mile, and [284]brought us to another large, ſtanding, black and unfathomable water, on the top of this high hill. There was no appearance of any [285]feeders to ſupply this frightful lake, and therefore, and on account of its blackneſs, the ſurface muſt communicate with the abyſs. From this water we rid due eaſt for half an hour, and then deſcended to a ſandy valley, where flames were riſing from the ground. The fire came up without noiſe, ſmoak, or ſmell, and appeared to me very wonderful: but ſuch things are common in many parts of the world. In the ſide of one of the Apennines, I have ſeen a large blazing vale. The learned tell us, this is owing to rich veins of bitumen, which crops in ſuch places, and the heat of the air between the hills, in ſhallow vallies, cauſes it to burn. This crop of bitumen, and accenſion by the agitation of a hot air, is well fancied, I own: but it does [286]not give me full ſatisfaction. I think of this, and many other natural things, as Mr. Moyle does of the Aurora Borealis;—that theſe uncommon appearances ſhould be looked on with wonder and admiration, and raiſe in us a due reverence of their great Author, who has ſhewn his Almighty power and wiſdom in forming ſuch an infinite variety of productions in all parts of the univerſe. Philoſophy undertakes to account for every thing. I am ſure it is in many caſes miſtaken.

29. An account of a waterfall at Stanemore.

Having paſſed the burning valley, we rid over a river, that was up to the horſes bellies, very rapid, and a bad bottom, and then proceeded along a ſteep hill ſide, the courſe N. W. till we came to a rich low land, that was covered with flowers and aromatic ſhrubs, and adorned with ſeveral clumps of oak, cheſnut, and white walnut trees. This plain is about twenty five acres, ſurrounded with ſtony mountains, ſome of which are very high and ſteep, and from the top of one of the loweſt of them, a cataract deſcends, like the fall of the river Niagara in Canada, or New France, in North America. Swifter than an arrow from a bow the rapid water comes headlong down in a fall of 140 feet, which is 3 feet more than the deſcent of Niagara. The river here, to be ſure, is not half ſo large as that which comes from the vaſt lakes of Canada, but it is a great and prodigious cadence of water, and tumbles [287]perpendicular in as ſurprizing a manner, from as horrible a precipice; and in this very nearly reſembles the Niagara-Fall; that as you ſtand below, as near the fall as it is ſafe to go, you ſee the river come down a ſloping mountain for a great way, as if it deſcended from the clouds. It is a grand and amazing ſcene. The water iſſues from a great lake on the top of a mountain that I found very hard to aſcend, and the lake has many viſible feeders from hills upon hills above it, which it is impoſſible to climb.

30. July 19, 1726. A dinner by a cataract, and a wonderful fall of O Fin the boy.

It was 12 o'clock by the time we arrived at this water-fall, and therefore I ſat down by the ſide of it to dine, before I attempted to get up to the top of the precipice, and ſee from whence this water came. While my eyes were entertained with the deſcending ſcene, I feaſted on a piece of veniſon paſty, and ſome fine ale, which, among other proviſions, Mrs. Burcot had ordered her ſervants to put up for me: but as I was thus happily engaged, my lad, O Fin, had climbed up to the top of the water-fall, and was going to land from a tree that grew out of the rocky mountain, near the ſummit of the hill, when his foot ſlipt, and he came tumbling down in a miſerable way. I expected him in pieces on the ground, as I had him full in my view. There ſeemed no poſſibility of an eſcape: and yet he received no harm. In the middle of [288]the deſcent, he ſtuck in another projecting thick tree, and from it came ſafely down. This was a deliverance. Providence often ſaves us in a wonderful manner, 'till the work appointed to be finiſhed is done, or the limited time of our trial over. In relation to ſuch eſcapes, I could give myſelf as an inſtance many a time, and will here mention one extraordinary caſe.

31. A great deliverance.

As I travelled once in the county of Kerry in Ireland, with the White Knight, and the Knight of the Glin (22) . We called at Terelah [289]O Crohanes, an old Iriſh gentleman, our common friend, who kept up the hoſpitality of his anceſtors, and ſhewed how they lived, when Cormac Mac Cuillenan, the Generous, (from whoſe houſe he deſcended) was king of Munſter and Archbiſhop [290]of Caſhel, in the year 913 (23.) There was no end of eating and drinking there, and the famous Downe Falvey played on the harp. For a day and a night we ſat [291]to it by candle-light, without ſhirts or cloaths on; naked, excepting that we had our breeches and ſhoes and ſtockings on; [292]and I drank ſo much burgundy in that time, that the ſweat ran of a red colour down my body; and my ſenſes were ſo diſordered, that when we agreed to ride out for a couple of hours to take a little air, I leaped my horſe into a dreadful quarry, and in the deſcent was thrown into a large deep water that was in a part of the frightful bottom, and by that means ſaved my life. When I came above water, I ſwam very eaſily out of the pit, and walked up the low ſide of the quarry as ſober as if I had not drank a glaſs. This is a fact, whatever the critics may ſay of the thing. All I can ſay to it is, my hour was not come.

49. 1725. June 11. The journey continued.

Having dined, and ſhot a buſtard that weighed forty pounds, I went on again, the courſe north-weſt for half a mile, and then, to my aſtoniſhment, it trended to the ſouth for more than an hour; which was going back again: but at laſt it turned about, and for half an hour, we went to the northweſt again, and then due eaſt for a long time, till we came to hills upon hills that were [293]very difficult to paſs. We were obliged to alight at many of them, and walk them up and down, which was a delay of many hours: but we did it at laſt, and came into a large ſandy opening, that had a number of rapid ſtreams breaking over it, that fell from the mountains, and with the foreſt on the ſurrounding hills, formed a very wild and pleaſing ſcene. Over this we went for half a mile, and then came to a long glin, ſo very deep and narrow, that it was quite night when we got to the bottom of it, tho' the ſun was not yet down; and it brought to my remembrance Anchiſes's ſon, the wandering prince of Troy, when he deſcended to the ſhades below. It had the appearance indeed of ſome ſuch paſs, and was a frightful way, as hills, like Caucaſus and Atlas, were cloſe on either hand of us, and a river roared thro' the bottom of the ſteep deſcent; which we were obliged to walk down on foot. This could not be the right road I was certain. Azora and Antonia could never paſs this deep and rapid flood. It was too much for any man to venture into, without knowing where the torrent went, or how the channel of the river was form'd.

Up then I came again to the day, and reſolved to paſs the night at the foot of one of the woody hills, on the margin of the ſtreams that ſounded ſweetly over the ſhoars: [294]but how to proceed the next morning I knew not. As my paper of directions did not mention the dark ſteep deſcent we had been down, but a little valley that lay due eaſt, through which we were to go: no ſuch vale could we ſee, and of conſequence, in ſome turning of the road, we had gone wrong.

When I came among the trees, on the ſide of one of the mountains, I began to look for ſome convenient reſting place, while my two boys were picking the buſtard, and preparing a fire to roaſt it for ſupper, and wandered a good way till I ſaw a pretty hermitage in an open plain like a ring, and going up to it, found the ſkeleton of a man. He lay on a couch in an inward room without any covering, and the bones were as clean and white as if they had come from the ſurgeons hands. The piſmires to be ſure had eaten off the fleſh. Who the man was, a paper lying on the table in a ſtrong box informed me. It was called the caſe of John Orton.

50. The CASE of JOHN ORTON.

51. A reflexion on the bones of John Orton.

This extraordinary paper ſurprized me very greatly, and when from reading it, I turned my eyes to the bones of John Orton, I could not help breaking out in the following reflection — And is this the once lively, gallant, drinking [305] Jack Orton, who thought for forty years that he was made for no higher end than to gratify every appetite, and paſs away time in a continual circle of vanity and pleaſure! Poor ſkeleton, what a miſerable ſpectacle art thou! Not the leaſt remain of activity and joy, of that ſprightlineſs and levity of mind, that jocund humour and frolic, which rendered thee the delight of the wild ſocieties of thy youthful time: Grim, ſtiff, and horrid, is the appearance now: vain mirth and luxury, licentious plays and ſports, can have no connection with theſe dry bones.

O Death, what a change doſt thou make! The bulk of mankind are averſe to ſerious thought, and hearken to the paſſions more than to the dictates of reaſon and religion: To kill time, and baniſh reflection, they indulge in a round of diſſipations, and revel in the freedom of vicious exceſſes: Their attention is engroſſed by ſpectacle and entertainments, and fixed to follies and trifles: giddy and unthinking, looſe and voluptuous, they ſpend their precious hours in the gay ſcenes of diverſions, pomp and luxury; and as if the grave and a judgment to come, were a romance of former times, or things from which they are ſecured, never think of theſe important and momentous ſubjects: with minds bewitched by exorbitant pleaſure, and faculties enervated and broken by [306]idle mirth and vanity, they paſs their every day away without any of that conſideration which becomes reaſonable beings, and creatures deſigned for a ſtate of immortality: bu at laſt, you appear, and in a moment turn delight and admiration, into averſion and horror: ſtrength, wealth, and charms, you inſtantly reduce to weakneſs, poverty, and deformity, in the firſt place; and then, to a ſkeleton, like the bones before me.

Nor is this the worſt of the great revolution. When death approaches, the amuſements of ſenſe immediately fail, and paſt tranſactions, in every circumſtance of aggravation, crowd into the mind: conſcience reproaches loudly, the heart condemns, and the ſick tremble at the apprehenſions of a vengeance they laughed at in the days of diverſion, and the midnight hours of the ball: as they come near the black valley, they ſee the realities of a future ſtate; and agonies convulſe their ſouls: terrors till then unknown enter their breaſts; and, in anxieties that are incapable of being uttered, and expectations the moſt torturing, on a review of life, they paſs from the plains of time into the ocean of eternity. Here lies the frame, like the dry bones before me; but, the ſoul is gone to the ſeſſions of righteouſneſs; and perhaps, the dreadful ſentence of the divine juſtice is pronounced on it. This is a tremendous [307]affair, that calls for timely and ſerious conſideration. Eternity! Eternal miſery! They that have done evil, to come forth unto the reſurrection of damnation!

I will take thy advice then, thou glorious penitent, John Orton; and ſince it is in my power to come forth unto the reſurrection of life, and obtain immortality, honour, and glory, with the righteous, in the kingdom of their father, I will open the reforming goſpel night and morning, and by its heavenly directions regulate my conduct. I am determined to make a wiſe and ſerious preparation for death and judgment. To the beſt of my power, I will provide for that day, when the prayers and charities of the righteous will be brought forth as their memorials before the tribunal of Jeſus Chriſt.

This — this is the thing to be minded. The brighteſt ſcenes of worldly proſperity, and grandeur, are contemptible, when they do not accord with virtue and piety. Death, in a few years, blends the prince and the meaneſt ſubject, the conqueror and the ſlave, the ſtateſman, the warrior, and the moſt inſignificant, in one promiſcuous ruin; and the ſchemes, the competitions, and the intereſts, which have engaged the chief attention of the world, are brought to nothing, and appear, too often, ridiculous: but righteouſneſs is unchangeably [308]glorious, and in the univerſal ruin, receives no detriment: when all human power and policy will be extinct; concealed piety and perſecuted virtue, will again appear, and be owned as His by the Lord of Hoſts, in that day when he maketh up his jewels.

I will love thee therefore, O Lord, my ſtrength; yea, I will love thee: and it ever ſhall be my heart's deſire, that my ſoul may behold by faith in its ſelf, as in a glaſs, the glory of the Lord, able and ready to change it into the ſame image from glory to glory, reflected upon, and conveyed to it by the Spirit of the Lord. May my portion here be this bleſſed transforming union, that I may be made partaker of the divine nature, by impreſſions from it (24.) I ſhall then have [309]all I wiſh, and all I want. With a ſettled indifference I ſhall then look upon the higheſt advantages of this world. I ſhall have [310]nothing to hope or to fear. The will of God will be to me unmixed felicity.

52. A meditation in a cloſet.

[311]

Such was the ſoliloquy I ſpoke, as I gazed on the ſkeleton of John Orton; and juſt as I had ended, the boys brought in the wild turkey, which they had very ingeniouſly roaſted, and with ſome of Mrs. Burcot's fine ale and bread, I had an excellent ſupper. The bones of the penitent Orton I removed to a hole I had ordered my lad to dig for them; the ſkull excepted, which I kept, and ſtill keep on my table, for a memento mori; and that I may never forget the good leſſon, which the percipient who once reſided in it, had given. It is often the ſubject of my meditation. When I am alone of an evening, in my cloſet, which is often my caſe, I have the ſkull of John Orton before me, and as I ſmoak a philoſophic pipe, with my eyes faſtened on it, I learn more from the ſolemn object, than I could from the moſt philoſophical and laboured ſpeculations. What a wild and hot head once: how cold and ſtill now; poor ſkull, I ſay: and what was the end of all thy daring frolics and gambols — thy licentiouſneſs and impiety? — A ſevere and bitter repentance. In piety and goodneſs John Orton found at laſt that [312]happineſs the world could not give him. There is no real felicity for man, but in reforming all his errors and vices, and entring upon a ſtrict and conſtant courſe of virtue. This only makes life comfortable; renders death ſerene and peaceful; and ſecures eternal joy and bleſſedneſs hereafter. Such are the leſſons I extract from the ſkull of John Orton.

53. An inventory of the goods of John Orton.

When I had ſupped, I went about, to ſee what things Mr. Orton had left behind him in his little cottage, and I found a field bed-ſtead large enough for two, with a mattraſs, ſilk blankets, quilt, and cotton curtains; two oak ſtools, and a ſtrong ſquare table of the ſame wood. An oak ſettee, on which his bones lay; a ſilver lamp to burn oil in; a tinder-box and matches; a caſe of razors; ſix handſome knives and forks in a caſe; half a dozen china plates, two china diſhes; and two pint mugs of the ſame ware; half a dozen drinking-glaſſes, a large copper kettle, a braſs ſkillet, two ſilver ſpoons, and a ſilver ladle; in a cheſt were cloaths and linnen, ſhoes and ſtockings, and various uſeful matters. There were pens, ink, and paper in a writing-deſk, and half a ſcore guineas; and on a ſhelf over it, a dozen good books; three of which were, a large Engliſh bible, Thomas a Kempis, and Sir Walter Raleigh's hiſtory of the world: under the ſhelf hung a plain gold watch, and a large ring ſun-dial. In a dark [313]cloſet, I found a box of ſea-biſkets, many flaſks of oil for eating, and jars of it for the lamp; honey, ſalt, and vinegar; four dozen of quart bottles of meath, and two ſtone bottles, that held three gallons each, full of brandy: this I ſuppoſe was againſt the days of weakneſs or ſickneſs. He had not uſed a pint of this liquor.

Having found theſe things within doors, I proceeded from the houſe to the garden, which lay at a ſmall diſtance from the little thatched manſion, and contained about four acres; it had been very beautifully laid out, and filled with the beſt fruit-trees, and all the vegetables: but it was run to ruin and high weeds, and ſhewed that its owner had been long dead. I ſuppoſe he died ſoon after the date of his paper; for, I obſerved, that many prior dates had been ſtruck out; and had he lived after the year 1701, he would, in all probability, have razed that likewiſe, and ſet down 1702. Some ſudden ſickneſs muſt have ſeized him; and perhaps, when he found himſelf ſinking, he laid himſelf out naked on the wooden couch where I found his ſkeleton. I can no otherwiſe account for his having no kind of covering over him. As to his bones being ſo clean, that to be ſure was performed by the ants. I took notice of many neſts here of the larger ants, in holes under the roots of great trees.

[314]That the piſmires are the beſt preparers of a ſkeleton is not only certain from the account the miſſionaries give of the coming on of the ants in Pegu; when in one night's time, the vaſt ſwarms of them that approach, reduce every human creature they can faſten on to clean bones; which makes the people ſet fire to their habitations, when they have notice given them by a kind of ſmall monkey they keep for the purpoſe of the motion of this terrible enemy: but it is plain from what I have often experimented.

When I want to make a ſkeleton of any ſmall animal, I put the dead creature in a box with holes in it among the ants, in their habitations, or neſts, or in ſuch parts of the houſe as a whole tribe will often march to, through ſeveral rooms, in one track or certain road, to eat ſugar or ſweatmeats they have diſcovered, and then in two or three days, they will perform what the fineſt knife cannot execute. The big ants which are larger than a common houſe fly, and are ſeldom leſs than ſix thouſand in a neſt, will clear the bones of a rat in half a night's time.

There was a pretty little wooden ſummer-houſe in the centre of the garden, and in it had been in pots ſome curious plants and flowers. Here were various tools, and many inſtruments of gardening. It appeared from [315]them, and the great variety of things in the ground, that Mr. Orton muſt have uſed himſelf to hard labour, and found great pleaſure in his improvements and productions. There was a deal of art and ingenuity to be traced in the wild wilderneſs the garden was grown into. It was plain from a book, called the Carthuſian gardener, which lay on a table in the ſummer-houſe, that he had made that buſineſs his ſtudy. Round this ſummer-houſe were the remains of many hives on benches, but the bees were all gone, and the ſtock ruined.

54. A ſcheme.

All theſe things, and the place, ſet me a thinking, and ſoon ſuggeſted to my fancy, that in my condition, I could not do better than ſucceed Mr. Orton on the premiſſes; but, without turning hermit. Here is (I ſaid) a pretty ſmall thatched manſion, that might eaſily be enlarged, if more rooms were wanting; and a garden, which labour would ſoon reſtore to its uſefulneſs and beauty, and make it produce the beſt vegetables in plenty. Here is fiſh in the waters, fowl of every kind, and deer on the mountains. Here are goats in great herds, for milk, for kids, and when cut, for excellent veniſon. Here is the fineſt water, and by getting bees, as Mr. Orton had, meath may be made that will be equal to the beſt foreign wine. As to the ſituation, it is moſt delightful. Nothing [316]can be more charming than theſe ſhores and breaking waters, the rocky precipices and the woody hills, which ſurround this little region. What then ſhould hinder but that I here ſit down, and put an end to my adventures; as the few things that are wanting may be had at the next town, and a ſtock for years be in a few days ſecured? The man I am looking for may never be found; and if I ſhould meet with him, his circumſtances and temper may be changed: then, as to the world, I know not how to deal in any kind of buſineſs; and to live on the ſmall fortune in my poſſeſſion, muſt reduce me to poverty very ſoon. Here then it is good for me to reſide, and make myſelf as happy as I can, if it be not in my power to be as happy as I would. I have two lads with me, who are active, uſeful young men, willing to work, and pleaſed to ſtay whereever I am; and if I can commence a matrimonial relation with ſome ſenſible, good-humoured, dear delightful girl of the mountains, and perſuade her to be the chearful partner of my ſtill life, nature and reaſon will create the higheſt ſcenes of felicity, and we ſhall live as it were in the ſuburbs of heaven. My lads too may pick up among the hills, upon ſcripture principles, two bouncing females: and a ſtate will in a little time be formed. This is fine. For [317]once in my life I am fortunate. And ſuppoſe, this partner I want in my ſolitude could be Miſs Melmoth, one of the wiſeſt and moſt diſcreet of women; a thinking bloom, and good-humour itſelf in a human figure; then indeed I muſt be happy in this ſilent, romantic ſtation. This ſpot of earth would then have all the felicities. — Reſolved. Concluſum eſt contra Manicheos, ſaid the great St. Auſtin, and with a thump of his fiſt, he cracked the table.

55. A fine rural ſcene.

Thus was my head employed, while I ſmoaked a pipe after ſupper, and I determined to return to Orton's manſion, after I had found a way out of Stanemore: but the previous queſtion was, how I ſhould get out of the place I was in, without going back, as there appeared no paſſage onwards. I tried every angle the next morning, to no purpoſe, and in vain attempted ſome hills that were too ſteep for the horſes. Down then again I went to the bottom of the black and narrow glin afore-mentioned, and with lights obſerved the rumbling deep river. It appeared more frightful than the firſt time I ſaw it, and there was no venturing into it. This troubled me not a little, as the water was not above eight yards broad, and there was an aſcending glin on the other ſide of it, that appeared to riſe into a fine woody country. It was not half the length of that we [318]had deſcended, nor near ſo ſteep; it began to widen at the diſtance of a hundred yards from the water, ſo as to ſhew, at the ſummit, a fine plain encompaſſed with a ſweep of foreſt. We could ſee the ſun ſhining there. The view in contraſt was quite charming.

For ſome time I ſtood in this perplexed condition by the water-ſide, and could not tell what to do, when one of the lads came running to me, to let me know, that as he carefully examined the ſides of the glin we came down, he diſcovered to the left, about fourſcore yards above the river, a paſs wide enough for one horſe to go through, and he believed it was a way out. This was reviving news, and upon going into it, I found that it went ſtraight on among the mountains, like a rent, or open crack, for three hundred yards, and then turned to the left for about fifty more, when it winded a little, and began to extend wider and wider every yard, till it brought us by ſeveral turnings to the beginning of a fine valley, where we again found the river we had ſeen in the bottom of the deep glin, and perceived that it ended in a great water, and went off in ſome ſubterranean way. The mountains were almoſt cloſe to this fine water, on either hand, for near half a mile, and made a delightful rural [319]ſcene. We could ſee the river, as we looked up it, come tumbling on for a great way between the ſteep rocky precipices; and the broad bright lake it formed between vaſt frowning mountains, with wood and lawns in it, at the end of the vale, were altogether a view moſt charming. This made me more highly value Orton-Lodge.

56. A deſcription of an extraordinary cave in Stanemore.

There is a cave there likewiſe that adds great beauty to the place, and in charms and wonders, exceeds the grot of Tunis, (a few miles eaſt of Carthage, directly under Cape-Bonn, formerly called the promontory of Mercury), where Aeneas ſheltered after the ſtorm (25.); and St. Donat's Cave in Glamorganſhire, [320]which is much more beautiful, [321]than the African grot deſcribed in the firſt Aeneid. (26.)

[322]The cave in Stanemore is in the bottom of a perpendicular mountain of a vaſt height, the eaſt ſide of the lake, and four yards from the ſhoar. The entrance is a grand ſweep, high and broad as the grot, that is, in breadth 52 feet, in height 59. It is an hundred and forty ſeven feet long. The ſtone of it is extremely beautiful; of a yellow and reddiſh colour, bright and glittering, and beautifully variegated with arched and undulated veins of various tinges. I broke off a piece of it, and found it a congeries of plates of ſpar, ſtained with a fine mixture of colours. It is a ſpecies of the alabaſter, called Marmor Onychites, on account of its tabulated zones, reſembling thoſe of the Onyx, and is very little inferior to the Aegyptian alabaſter. This Stanemore ſtone is far beyond the Corniſh and Derbyſhire alabaſter. The caverns there are but incruſted with a ſparry ſubſtance, as I have found upon various examinations; and, [323]as is evident to every eye that ſees the workmen making the elegant vaſes and chimney-columns we have of the alabaſter of thoſe counties: whereas in Stanemore, this alabaſter conſiſts of ſtrata of ſparry ſubſtance, tho' ſomewhat coarſer than this kind of Aegyptian ſtone.

The top of the cave is a bold arch, finiſhed beyond all that art could do, and the floor as ſmooth as it is poſſible to make the ſtone. At the far end of the grot, there are a dozen rows of ſeats like benches, that riſe one above another. The uppermoſt will hold but two people: on each of the others a dozen may ſit with eaſe: they make the place look as if it was the aſſembly room, or council chamber of the water-nymphs. There was no water dropping from the roof of this cave; but in a thouſand places, where moſs had agreeably covered the walls, it crept through the ſides, and formed ſtreams that ran ſofyly over the ground, and weared it ſmooth. It brought to my remembrance ſome very poetical lines in Lucretius:

—Noctivagi Sylveſtria templa tenebant
Nympharum, quibus exibant humore fluenta
Lubrica, proluvie larga lavere humida Saxa,
Humida Saxa ſuper viridi ſtillantia muſco
Et partim plano ſcatere atque erumpere campo,
And then by night they took their reſt in caves,
Where little ſtreams roul on with ſilent waves;
[324]They bubble thro' the ſtones, and ſoftly creep,
As fearful to diſturb the nymphs that ſleep.
The moſs ſpread o'er the marbles, ſeems to weep.

This was exactly the caſe of the water in this fine cave. In the loweſt harmony, it gently fell over the ſlanting floor, and as Oldham has it—

Away the ſtreams did with ſuch ſoftneſs creep,
As 'twere by their own murmurs lull'd aſleep.

57. A deſcription of a fine ſeat in Yorkſhire-Stanemore; which belongs to a ſociety of philoſophers.

Such was the delightful ſpot I at laſt diſcovered, when I thought I was come to the ne plus ultra, that is, had gone on till I could go no farther; and now ſeeing how my way lay, I departed from Orton-Lodge betimes the next morning, leaving my lad O Fin to keep poſſeſſion of the place till I returned, 1725. June 19. the 7th day ſince I left Jack Price. and with the other boy went thro' the lawns in the wood I have mentioned at the end of the vale. This brought me to a range of mountains moſt frightful to behold, and to the top of them, with great toil, we made a ſhift to climb, and from thence deſcended through many perils to a bottom between the hills we had come down, and [325]ſome mountains that ſtood at a ſmall diſtance from them. This low ground trended north and north-weſt for an hour, and then turned north-eaſt for three hours more, a very bad way; ſtony and wet, and ſome ſtiff pieces of road: but the bottoms brought us at laſt into a large and ſpacious plain, that was ſurrounded with hills, whoſe tops and ſides were covered with antient trees and lofty groves, and ſome mountains whoſe heads were above the clouds. Flowers and clover, and other herbs, adorned the ground, and it was watered with many never-drying ſtreams. The plain ſeemed a vaſt amphitheatre, by nature formed; and variety and diſpoſition refreſhed the eyes whatever way they turned.

In the very center of this ground, I found a houſe and gardens that charmed me very much. The manſion had a ruſticity and wildneſs in its aſpect, beyond any thing I had ſeen, and looked like a maſs of materials jumbled together without order or deſign. There was no appearance of rule in any part, and where a kind of proportion was to be ſeen, it ſeemed as a ſtart into truth, by the inadvertent head of blind chance. It was the moſt gothick, whimſical, four-fronted thing, without, that ever my eyes beheld; and within, the moſt convenient, comfortable dwelling I have ſeen.

[326]

The gardens of Ulubrae. This edifice, which looks more like a ſmall gothic cathedral, than a houſe, ſtands in the middle of large gardens, which are not only very fine, but uncommon, and different from all the gardens I have been in. There is no more rule obſerved in them, than in the houſe; but the plantations of trees, and plots of flowers, the raiſed hills, the artificial vallies, the ſtreams that water theſe vales, and the large pieces of water, and lakes, they have brought in, and formed, are inexpreſſibly charming and fine. Wild and natural they ſeem, and are a beautiful imitation of the moſt beautiful ſcenes of nature. The wilderneſs, the openings, the parterres, the gardens, the ſtreams, the lakes, the caſcades, the valleys and the riſing grounds, in the moſt various diſpoſition, and as if art had little, or no hand in the deſigns, have an admirable effect upon the eye.

The paſſages from valley to valley, between the hills they have made, are not by formal ſtraight walks, but by windings in various ways, which are decorated with little grotto's,and diverſified in the manner of laying out the ground: the ſtreams and canals ſometimes ſerpent, and ſometimes ſpread away. Rocks artfully placed, ſeem to puſh the waters off, and on the banks are ſeeming wild productions of flowers. As the hills and riſings are ſprinkled with flowery trees, [327]ſo are theſe banks with all the ſweets that grow. Small boats are on the running ſtreams, and over them in many places, are winding bridges of wood, moſt ingeniouſly and finely made. Theſe ſtreams which they have from the mountains, ſupply the larger pieces of water; and in the largeſt of thoſe lakes they had raiſed a rock, in the moſt natural manner. On this is a ſummer-houſe of great beauty. It is the reverſe of the manſion, and has every charm that pure architecture could give it. It is large enough for a ſmall family.

58. An account of the philoſophers of Stanemore. 1725. June 19. 7th day.

When I came up to this ſeat, which the owners of it call Ulubrae, ſome gentlemen, who were in the gardens, ſaw me, and ſaved me the trouble of aſking admiſſion, by inviting me in with the greateſt civility; but they ſeemed under a vaſt ſurprize at my arrival; and much more ſo, when I gave them an account of the way I had travelled. It appeared almoſt incredible. They had not a notion of ſuch a journey. They told me I was in Yorkſhire now, and had been ſo, when I aſcended the high mountains that are ſome miles behind the hills that ſurround their houſe; but they did not imagine there was any travelling over thoſe mountains, and the alps upon alps beyond them, to Brugh under Stanemore. The way (they ſaid) was very bad from their houſe to Eggleſton, [328]or Bowes, on account of hills, waters, and wet bottoms; it was worſe to travel northward to Biſhoprick; and ſcarce paſsable to the north eaſt to Cumberland:—What then muſt it be to journey as I had done over the northern fells of Weſtmorland, and the bad part of Yorkſhire-Stanemore I had paſſed.

It was a terrible way (I replied), and what I often deſpaired of coming through, even at the hazard of my life. Frequently we were locked in by chains of precipices, and thought we ſhould never find a paſs: ſome of the mountains were ſo ſteep, that it was with the greateſt difficulty we could lead the horſes up and down them: and many rivers were ſo rapid, and rocky at bottom, that we were often in danger of being loſt: beſide, if fortune had not conducted us to the habitations of people we little expected to find, we might have periſhed for want of food, as my ſervant could not bring from Brugh proviſions ſufficient for ſo long and uncertain a way. All theſe difficulties I ſaw very ſoon; in leſs than a day's ride to the north from the Bell on the ſouthern-edge of Stanemore; a little lone public-houſe, that lies half way the turnpike-road, on the left hand, as the traveller goes from Bowes to Brugh, Penrith, and Carliſle: but friendſhip and curioſity were too many for all the obſtacles in the way; and in hopes of finding a beloved [329]friend, who lives ſomewhere towards the northern edge of Yorkſhire, or Weſtmorland, or on the neighbouring confines of Biſhoprick, or Cumberland; and that I might ſee a part of England, which even the borderers on it are ſtrangers to, and of which Camden had not an idea (27) ; I went on, and have had ſucceſs thus far. The journey has been worth my pains. I have beheld the moſt delightful ſcenes, and met with very extraordinary things: and ſhould I find my friend at laſt, my labours will be highly rewarded indeed.

The gentlemen I was talking to, ſeemed to wonder very much at me and my diſcourſe; and as the reſt of the ſociety by this time came into the parlour, they introduced me to them, and then related what I had [330]ſaid. They all allowed it was very extraordinary, and requeſted I would oblige them with ſome particulars that occurred. I did immediately. I told them, among other things, of my reception at Burcot-Lodge—and the ſkeleton of John Orton which I found in the cottage on the ſide of a woody hill: I let them know the goods and conveniencies I ſaw there, and that I was ſo pleaſed with the beauties of the place, the little manſion, the once fine gardens, and the uſeful things on the premiſſes, that I intended to return to it, and make it my ſummer retreat: that I had left a man there to that purpoſe, who was at work in the garden, and expected to be back in a month's time, with ſuch things as were wanting to make it an agreeable and comfortable little country-houſe.

The philoſophers wondered not a little at what they heard. If they were ſurprized at ſeeing me as a traveller in ſuch a place, they were much more aſtoniſhed at my relation. They could not enough admire Mrs. Burcot and Mrs. Fletcher. The hiſtory of the penitent Orton, they thought very ſtrange. They told me they were glad I had a thought of making Orton-Lodge a ſummer retreat, and hoped it would occaſion my calling upon them many times: that I ſhould always be heartily welcome to their houſe, and might with leſs difficulty go backwards and forwards, [331]as their lodge was at my ſervice, whenever I was pleaſed to do them the favor to call. This was civil, and I returned them the thanks they deſerved.

Here dinner was brought in, and with theſe gentlemen I ſat down to ſeveral excellent diſhes. There was the beſt of every kind of meat and drink, and it was ſerved up in the moſt elegant manner: their wine in particular was old and generous, and they gave it freely. We took a chearful glaſs after dinner, and laughed a couple of hours away in a delightful manner. They were quite polite, friendly and obliging; and I ſoon found, in converſing with them, that they were men of great reading, and greater abilities. Philoſophy had not ſaddened their tempers. They were as lively companions, as they were wiſe and learned men.

Theſe gentlemen are twenty in number, men of fortune, who had agreed to live together, on the plan of a college deſcribed by Mr. Evelyn in his letter to Mr. Boyle * ; but, with this difference, that they have no chaplain, may riſe when they pleaſe, go and come as they think fit, and are not obliged to cultivate every one his garden. Every member lays down a hundred pounds on the firſt day of the year, and out of that fund they live, [332]pay their ſervants, keep their horſes, and purchaſe every thing the ſociety requires. What is wanting at home, this ſtoek produces, and is to be expended only at Ulubrae, for every thing neceſſary and comfortable, except raiment and horſes. When they are abroad, it is at a plus-expence.

I call theſe gentlemen philoſophers, becauſe, excluſive of their good morals, they devote the principal part of their time to natural philoſophy and mathematicks, and had, when I firſt ſaw them, made a great number of fine experiments and obſervations in the works of nature, tho' they had not been a ſociety for more than four years. They make records of every thing extraordinary which come within their cogniſance, and regiſter every experiment and obſervation. I ſaw ſeveral fine things in their tranſactions, and among them a moſt ingenious and new method of determining expeditiouſly the tangents of curve lines; which you know, mathematical reader, is a very prolix calculus, in the common way: and as the determination of the tangents of curves is of the greateſt uſe, becauſe ſuch determinations exhibit the quadratures of curvilinear ſpaces, an eaſy method in doing the thing, is a promotion of geometry in the beſt manner. The rule is this.

59. A rule to determine expeditiouſly, the tangents of curve lines.

[333]

Suppoſe B D E the curve, B C the abciſſa = x, C D the ordinate = y, A B the tangent line = t, and the nature of the curve be ſuch, that the greateſt power of y ordinate be on one ſide of the equation; then y3 = − x3xxy + xyya3 + aayaax + axxayy: but if the greateſt power of y be wanting, the terms muſt be put = 0.

[Graph of curve]

Then make a fraction and numerator; the numerator, by taking all the terms, wherein the known quantity is, with all their ſigns; and if the known quantity be of one dimenſion, to prefix unity, and of two, 2, if of three, 3, and you will have − 3a3 + 2aay − 2aax + axxayy:

The fraction, by aſſuming the terms wherein the abſciſſa x occurs, and retaining the ſigns, and if the quantity x be of one dimenſion, to prefix unity, as above, etc, etc; and then it will be − 3x3 − 2xxy + xyyaax + 2axx: [334]then diminiſh each of theſe by x, and the denominator will be − 3xx − 2xy + yyaa + 2ax.

This fraction is equal to A B, and therefore t is = − 3a3 + 2aay − 2aax + axxayy/− 3xx − 2xy + yyaa + 2ax In this eaſy way may the tangents of all geometrical curves be exhibited; and I add, by the ſame method, if you are ſkilful, may the tangents of infinite mechanical curves be determined. — Many other fine things, in the mathematical way, I looked over in the journal of theſe gentlemen. I likewiſe ſaw them perform ſeveral extraordinary experiments.

60. Microſcopical obſervations made at Ulubrae.

They make all the mathematical inſtruments they uſe, and have brought the microſcope in particular, to greater perfection than I have elſewhere ſeen it. They have them of all kinds, of one and more hemiſpherules, and from the invented ſpherule of Cardinal de Medicis, not exceeding the ſmalleſt pearl placed in a tube, to the largeſt that can be uſed. They had improved the double reflecting microſcope, much farther than Marſhal's is by Culpepper and Scarlet, and made ſeveral good alterations in the ſolar or camera obſcura microſcope; and in the catoptric microſcope, which is made on the model of the Newtonian teleſcope.

61. Colours in the microſcope.

[335]

In one of their beſt double reflecting optical inſtruments, I had a better view of the variety and true mixture of colours than ever I ſaw before. The origins and mixtures were finely viſible. In a common green ribbon, the yellow, the light red and a blue, appeared diſtinct and very plain: the lively green was a yellow and blue: in a ſea green, more blue than yellow: the yellow was a light red and a pellucid white: All the phoenomena of colours were here to be found out.

62. Works of art in the microſcope.

In this inſtrument, the fineſt point of a needle appeared more blunt and unequal, and more like a broken nail, than I had before ſeen it—the fineſt edge of a razor was like the back of a dog, with the hair up:— the fineſt paper, was great hairs, cavities, and inequalities—and the ſmootheſt plate of glaſs, was very rough, full of cracks, fiſſures and inequalities. Very different, indeed, are the things finiſhed by human art, from the things finiſhed by the hand of nature. The points, the edges, the poliſh, the angles, every thing that nature produces, appear in the inſtrument in a perfection that aſtoniſhes the beholder.

63. The vegetable kingdom in a microſcope.

In the views I here took of the vegetable world, with my eye thus armed, I ſaw many extraordinary things I had never obſerved before. I took notice, in particular, [336]that a ſage leaf is covered with a kind of cobweb, in which ſwarms of little active creatures, with terrible horns and piercing eyes, are buſily employed: a mulberry leaf was an amazing flexus or net-work: we can ſee but 9 ribs on the ſigillum Solomonis; whereas my armed eye perceived here 74: in a nettle I obſerved its whole ſurface covered over with needles of the moſt perfect poliſh, An account of a nettle in the double reflecting microſcope. every one of which had three points, (points very different from our fineſt points, not flat, but to perfection ſharp); and that theſe needles reſted on a baſe, which was a bag of a flexible ſubſtance, in form of a wild cucumber, and filled with a ſharp, poiſonous liquor: this is diſcharged at the extremity of every point of the needles that cover the ſurface of the nettle: from a hole viſible in every point the poiſon is thrown out, and excites a ſenſe of pain; and a heat ariſes as the blood flows more copiouſly to the wounded part: By preſſing with my finger the extremity of the prickles, the bag of poiſon fell; and on taking off the finger, it ſwelled again.—What a piece of workmanſhip is here in a nettle! Wonderful are thy works, O Lord God Almighty!

A ſorrel leaf, and buds of french bean and almond in a microſcope. A leaf of ſorrel in this microſcope exhibited to my eye oblong, rough and ſtraight atoms, ſharp as needles, and from thence the tongue is twinged. In a bud cut away with [337]a fine needle from a ſteeped ſeed of a french bean, I ſaw the intire plant; and in an almond ſo cut away, the perfect tree. Many other wonderful things I obſerved of the vegetable kingdom, in the microſcopes of theſe gentlemen.

64. A louſe and flea in a microſcope.

As to the animal kingdom, my obſervations on it, in the optical inſtruments at Ulubrae, were ſo many, that I could fill a volume with the things I ſaw: but, as I have little room or time to ſpare, I ſhall only mention two or three.—In the double reflecting teleſcope, a louſe and a flea were put; which are creatures that hate each other as much as ſpiders do, and fight to death when they meet. The flea appeared firſt in the box, A deſcription of a flea. and as he was magnified very greatly, he looked like a locuſt without wings; with a roundiſh body, that is obtuſe at the end, and the breaſt covered with an armature of a triangular figure; the head ſmall in proportion to its body, but the eyes large, red, and very fierce; his ſix legs were long, robuſt, and made for leaping; the antennae ſhort, but firm and ſharp; its tail was ſcaly, and full of ſtings, and its mouth pointed into active pincers: his colour was a deep purple.

The louſe. The louſe in white was next brought on, and had a well-ſhaped, oblong indented body: his ſix legs were ſhort, made for walking [338]and running, and each of them armed at the extremity with two terrible claws: the head was large, and the eyes very ſmall and black: its horns were ſhort and jointed, and could be thruſt forward with a ſpring. Its ſnout was pointed, and opened, contracted, and penetrated, in a wonderful manner.

65. A battle in a microſcope between a louſe and a flea.

The firſt that was brought on the ſtage was the flea, and to ſhew us what an active one he was, he ſprung and bounced at a ſtrange rate: the velocity of his motions in leaping, were aſtoniſhing; and ſometimes, he would tumble over and over in a wanton way: but the moment the louſe appeared, he ſtood ſtock ſtill, gathered himſelf up, and fixed his flaſhing eyes on his foe. The gallant louſe did with a frown for ſome time behold him, and then crouching down, began very ſoftly to move towards him, when the flea gave a leap on his enemy, and with his dangerous tail and pinching mouth, began the battle with great fury: but the louſe ſoon made him quit his hold, by hurting him with his claws, and wounding him with his ſharp ſnout. This made the flea ſkip to the other ſide of the box, and they both kept at a diſtance for near a minute, looking with great indignation at each other, and offering ſeveral times to advance. The louſe did it at laſt in a race, and then the flea flew at him, which produced a battle as terrible as [339]ever was fought by two wild beaſts. Every part of their bodies were in moſt violent motion, and ſometimes the flea was uppermoſt, but more frequently the louſe. They did bite, and thruſt, and claw one another moſt furiouſly, and the conſequence of the dreadful engagement was, that the flea expired, and the louſe remained victor in the box: but he was ſo much wounded, that he could ſcarce walk.—This battle was to me a very ſurprizing thing, as each of them was magnified to the ſize of two feet: But conſidering what ſpecs or atoms of animated matter they were, it was aſtoniſhing to reflexion to behold the amazing mechaniſm of theſe two minute things, which appeared in their exertions during the fray. It was ſtill more ſtrange to ſee the averſion theſe ſmall creatures had to each other, the paſſions that worked in their little breaſts, and the judgement they ſhewed in their endeavours to deſtroy one another. It is indeed a wonderful affair: nor was it the leaſt part of my admiration to ſee through the extraordinary tranſparencies of the louſe, the violent circulation of the blood in its heart. This was as plane to my eye, as red liquor forced by a pump in ſeveral experiments through circulating glaſs pipes.—As to the dead flea, it was opened, and by the camera obſcura or ſolar microſcope, (which magnifies the picture of [340]ſuch a body as a flea, to eight feet) (28) we ſaw the inteſtines diſtinguiſhed and arranged in a manner that cannot be enough admired. It was full of eggs, and in every egg were many half-formed young ones.

66. Spiders in the great double microſcope.

The water aranea, or great water ſpider, was next put in, and made a wonderful appearance in his greatly magnified ſtate. It is the largeſt of the ſpider kind, except the native of Apulia, called the Tarantula, and [341]is furniſhed at the head with a hard black forceps, which reſembles that of the Apulian araneus: the colour of its oval body is a blueiſh black, and has a tranſverſe line and two ſpots hollowed in it: its eight legs are very long, the joints large, and the little bones of the feet have different articulations: it was armed with briſtles like a boar, and had claws very black, not unlike an eagle: it had eight eyes, and ſix of them were diſpoſed in form of a half moon on the forehead; the other two were on the crown of the head; one to the left, the other to the right: This diſpoſition affords light to the whole body, and as theſe eyes are well furniſhed with cryſtalline humours, they are ſharp-ſighted beyond all creatures, and ſo nimbly hunt down flies: the mouth was full of teeth, and they looked like ſhort thick hairs.

In oppoſition to this amphibious creature, which walks on the mud at the bottom of ſtanding waters, as well as on the banks, the ſilvery-green bodied ſpider was put into the box, which is one of the claſs that lives in the woods, where it ſquats down on the branches of trees, and throws four of its legs forward, and four backward, extending them ſtraight along the bough; but the great water aranea, with his terrible weapon, the black forceps, in a minute deſtroyed [342]it, and we took the dead body out, to put in its place the red and yellow ſpider, which is a larger and ſtronger kind: this made a battle for two minutes, and hurt his foe: but he could not ſtand it longer: he expired at the victor's feet.

A reflexion on the works of nature as ſeen in the microſcope. Theſe things were a fine entertainment to me, as I had not before ſeen a ſolar, catoptric, or improved double-reflecting microſcope. I had now a nearer view of the ſkilful works of the ſupreme Artificer. With admiration I beheld the magnified objects — the wonderful arrangement of the inteſtines of a flea — the motion and ebullition of the blood of a louſe — their forms — the various ſpiders, ſo aſtoniſhingly framed — the gnat, that elephant in ſo ſmall a miniature — the amazing form of the ant — the aſtoniſhing claws and beautiful wings of a fly; the bones, nerves, arteries, veins, and moving blood in this very minute animal — the wonderful bee, its claws, its colours, and diſtinct rows of teeth, with which it ſips the flowers, and carries the honey home in its ſtomach, but brings the wax externally on its thighs — and a thouſand other things which manifeſt a Creator. In every object I viewed in the optical inſtruments, my eyes beheld one wiſe Being and ſupreme cauſe of all things. Every inſect, herb, and ſpire of graſs, declare eternal power and godhead. [343]Not only the ſpeech and language of the heavens, but of all the works and parts of nature is gone out into all the earth, and to the ends of the world; loudly proclaiming, that thou, O God, art Lord alone: Thou haſt made heaven, the heaven of heavens, and all their hoſts; the earth, and all things that are therein; therefore be thou our Lord God for ever and ever.

67. The library at Ulubrae.

The library belonging to theſe gentlemen is a very fine one, and contains many thouſand volumes; but is much more valuable for the intrinſick merit, than the number of the books: and as to antient manuſcripts, there is a large ſtore of great value: they had likewiſe many other curious monuments of antiquity; ſtatues, paintings, medals, and coins, ſilver, gold, and braſs. To deſcribe thoſe fine things would require a volume. Among the books, I ſaw the editions of the old authors, by the famous printers of the fifteenth and ſixteenth centuries; editions greatly prized and ſought after by moſt of the learned; but theſe gentlemen did not value them ſo much as the editions of the claſſicks, that have been publiſhed within this laſt century; eſpecially the quarto editions done in Holland. They ſhewed me many errors in the Greek authors by the Stephens: and as to Plantin, excluſive of his negligence, in ſeveral places, his Italic character [344]they thought far inferior to the Roman, in reſpect of beauty. All this was true: and it is moſt certain, that the beſt corrected books are the beſt editions of the claſſicks. They are the beſt helps for our underſtanding them. There is no reaſon then for laying out ſo much money for the old editions, when in reality the modern ones are better.

68. An account of the bock called Vindiciae contra Tyrannes.

One of the books in this library, which I chanced to take into my hand was the famous Vindiciae contra Tyrannos, which came out in Latin and French in 1579, under the name of Stephanus Junius Brutus, and is a defence of liberty againſt tyrants. — This treatiſe proves, in the firſt place, that ſubjects are not bound to obey princes, if they command that which is againſt the law of God; as the worſhip of a conſecrated wafer, and the theology of St. Athanaſius, marionalatry, the demonalatry, and all the diaboliſm of popery; — 2dly, That it is lawful to reſiſt a prince, who, like James the Second, endeavours to ruin the true church, and make the ſuperſtition of Rome the religion of the land; — 3dly, That it is lawful to reſiſt a prince, when he oppreſſes and ſtrives to ruin a ſtate; as when Charles the Firſt would exerciſe a power contrary to the intereſt of his people, contrary likewiſe to that of the [345]proteſtant religion (29.) ; and when James the Second began his tyranny, by diſpenſing with the penal ſtatute of 25 Car. 2. in the [346]caſe of Sir Edward Hales, notwithſtanding the true religion, the honour of Almighty God, the ſaſety of the government, and the [347]public good and peace of the nation depend upon this act of 25 Car. 2. — and 4thly, That neighbour princes or ſtates may be, or [348]are bound by law, to give ſuccours to the ſubjects of other princes, afflicted for the cauſe of true religion, or oppreſſed by manifeſt [349]tyranny. Theſe truths are finely proved in this extraordinary book. The excellent author evinces, that juſtice requires, [350]that tyrants and deſtroyers of the commonwealth be compelled to reaſon. Charity challenges the right of relieving and reſtoring the oppreſſed. Thoſe that make no account of theſe things, do as much as in them lies to drive piety, juſtice, and charity out of this world, that they may never more be heard of.

Who was the author of the Vindiciae contra Tyrannos. I aſked one of theſe gentlemen, if he knew who was the author of this book; for it was aſcribed to various men: — he told me, that the learned Hubert Languet was the reputed author, as we find in De la Mare's elogium upon him; but De la Mare was miſinformed by Legoux. The great Du Pleſſis (30.) was the author. D'Aubigne [357] (31) , whoſe word is ſterling, affirms it. See here (Mr. Seymour ſaid) the 2d volume of D'Aubigne's hiſtory, book 2. ch. 2. p. 108, il paroiſſoit un autre livre qui s'appelloit [358]Junius, on défenſe contre les tyrans, fait par M. Du Pleſſis, renommé pour pluſieurs excellens livres. — And, (tom. 1. l. 2. ch. 15. pag. 91.) D'Aubigné dits, que M. du Pleſſis lui a avoué qu'il en eſtoit l'auteur.

69. Account of the author of the famous book de libe tate eccleſiaſtica.

Another extraordinary book I ſaw in this library, was the famous piece de libertate eccleſiaſtica, written againſt the papal uſurpations, at the time his holineſs, Camille Borghenſe, commonly called Paul V, had the memorable conteſt with the Venetians; and upon enquiring, who was the author of this ſcarce and valuable work; that was ſuperior even to Father Paul's book upon the ſame ſubject, in defence of the liberties of mankind; Mr. Trenchard the preſident of the ſociety, ſhewed me Cappel's aſſertion of the true Faith againſt Roſweius the jeſuit. And in it the following paſſage, pag. 17. — In eccleſiaſtica antiquitate quam non eſſet Tyro Caſaubonus, docuit A. D. 1607. libro ſingulari de libertate eccleſiaſtica, cujus jam paginae 264. typis erant editae, cum rex Henricus IV. Compoſitis jam Venetorum cum pontifice Romano controverſiis, vetuit ultra progredi, et hoc ipſum quod fuerat inchoatum, ſupprimi voluit, ut ejus pauca nunc extent exemplaria. — And in the ſame book, I ſaw ſome manuſcript [359]references to Caſaubon's lettres, p. 628. 632, and 647. edit. Hag. — and to one place in Scaliger's letters, p. 345. ed. 1627. — Several places I turned to, and ſaw that Caſaubon hinted to his friends, that he was the author of the book De Eccleſiaſtica Antiquitate: and that Scaliger affirmed it (32.)[360]The words— Vetuit ultra progredi, et hos ipſum quod fuerat inchoatum ſupprimi voluit— accounts for this being publiſhed imperfect; which all that ſee it wonder at.

70.

[361]

Many other extraordinary books and manuſcripts I ſaw in this library, and a great number of fine curioſities; but I can only mention one particular more. Engraven on a beautiful Cornelian, I ſaw the Roman god of bounds, with theſe words, Concedo nulli: and one of the gentlemen aſked me, what I ſuppoſed the meaning of this deſign? The emblem (I anſwered) was a very juſt one, and in my opinion meant, that truth muſt never be given up. That (it was replied) was not the meaning of it, tho' my thought was not unjuſt. The deſign is to put one in mind of death, of which terminus is the juſteſt [362]emblem; and he ſays, Concedo nulli, I favour none, I ſuffer none to paſs the limit. There is (continued the gentleman) a little curious hiſtory depends on this. Here is a gold medallion, on one ſide of which you ſee the image of the great Eraſmus, and on the other this fancy; which he always wore in a ring, and from thence I had the medallion ſtruck. Eraſmus aſked the famous Carvajal, the Spaniſh cordelier, (juſt as I did you) what the meaning of this ring was. Carvajal, who had had ſome conteſts with Eraſmus, and hated him greatly, ſaid it owed its being, without all peradventure, to the pride of Eraſmus, and meant, that he would never yield, right or wrong, to any one in the republic of letters. Eraſmus anſwered, that his explication was quite wrong, and that, on the contrary, he uſed the device, to kill his pride, and put him in mind of death, which ſuffers not the greateſt men to paſs the ſhort limit of time allotted them. This pleaſed me much, and I reſolved to get the fancy on a cornelian for a ſeal.

71. An account of ſeveral ſubterranean chambers, and an aſcent in the inſide of a mountain from the bottom to the top.

Another extraordinary thing theſe gentlemen ſhewed me was a hole leading to ſome wonderful caverns in the ſide of a mountain, about a mile to the north of their houſe. It reſembles at the entrance, Penpark-hole, [363]in Glouceſterſhire (33) , within three miles of Briſtol; but with this difference, that Penpark-hole was once a lead ore pit, and one is let down by ropes through two tunnels, to the chamber; whereas the entrance of the place I am ſpeaking of is the work of nature, a ſteep and narrow deſcent of twenty-three yards, which I went down by having a rope under my arm, and ſetting my hands and feet againſt the ſides of the [364]paſſage, till I came to a flat rough rock, which opened 2 yards and a half one way, and 4 yards the other way. This little cavern was two yards high. We went from it into a more eaſy ſloping way, which brought us downward for thirteen yards, till we came to another cavern, that was ſix yards long, and four and a half broad. Here we found a perpendicular tunnel, two yards wide, and ſixty-ſeven yards deep; but where it went to, and what cauſed the noiſe below, the gentlemen who came thus far with me, could not tell; for they had never ventured into it, nor could they perſuade any of their people to be let down to the bottom, tho' they had found by the lead that there was hard ground below. I will then, (I ſaid) explore this ſubterranean realm, if you will let me and my lad down, with proper conveniences for an enquiry of the kind, and I dare ſay I will give you a good account of the region below. This (they anſwered) was not ſafe for me to do. I might periſh many ways. The damps and vapours might kill me at once; or my lights by them might be put out, or kindle the vapour of the place below. But to this I ſaid, that I was ſure the noiſe we heard at the bottom was ſome running water, and wherever that was in the caverns of the earth, the air muſt be [365]pure and good. So Mr. Boyle ſays in his general hiſtory of the air; and ſo I have often found it in my deſcents to the deepeſt mines. — As you pleaſe then; (the gentlemen replied): you ſhall have every thing you can deſire, and be let down very ſafely, however you may fare when you get to the ground: and when you want to come up, pull the packthread you have in your hand, that will be tied to a bell at the top of the tunnel, and you ſhall be immediately drawn up again. Theſe things being agreed, they let me down in a proper baſket the next morning at eight o'clock, with a lighted torch in my hand, and ſoon after my man Ralph followed with every thing I had required. I was more than half an hour going down, for the rope was given like a jack line from the engine it came from. I ſaw ſeveral diſmal lateral holes by the way; but no miſchief or inconvenience did I meet with in my paſſage to the ground.

When I came to the bottom, 1725. June 20. 8th day from my leaving Jack Price's. I found I was in a chamber of a great extent, and tho' 103 yards from the day, breathed as free as if I had been above ground. A little river made a noiſe in its fall from a high rock, within four yards of the ſpot I landed on, and ran with impetuoſity in a rough channel I knew not where. The water was not deep, as we found with our poles, and but three yards broad, and therefore [366]we croſſed it, at 100 yards from the fall, to get into a cavern that had an arched entrance, on the other ſide, within two yards of the ſtream. Our courſe to the croſſing was due weſt, and then we went to the north, on paſſing the water, and walking up the ſecond cave.

In it we aſcended for 79 yards, an eaſy riſing way, and then came to a ſwallow, into which a river that ran towards us fell. Our courſe to this place was due north, but as the flood came from the weſt, we turned next to that point, and by the ſide of this water marched 50 yards. The cavern was ſo wide we could not ſee the walls, and the roof was of a vaſt height.

At the end of the 50 yards, the river appeared due north again, and by its ſide we went for 10 more, till we came to another vaſt cavern, that was a ſteep aſcending opening, down which the river very muſically came. This place was ſo like Pool's-hole, that I might think myſelf in the Peak. It was juſt ſuch another grand opening, up the inſide of a mountain, and had not only the deſcending flood, but as many beautiful ſtalactical concretions on the riſing way; which formed the moſt beautiful pillars, walls, and figures of the fineſt carved work; but in this it differed from Pools-hole, that the aſcending [367]opening in Richmondſhire is much wider; the rough, open ſteep, much higher to the roof; and this ſteep reaches to the ſummit of the vaſt hills, and ends in an opening in day. We came out this way on the top of an exceeding high mountain, after we had climbed from the bottom to the upper end 479 yards (34) : add to this 229 yards, the way we had come from the bottom of the tunnel to the beginning of the watery ſteep, and our march through the [368]mountain, from the time we parted with the gentlemen, to our getting out at the top of it, was 708 yards.

This was a laborious route, and at the hazard of our lives, many times, performed. Once, in particular, my lad Ralph fell into the river with his torch in the great aſcent, and in ſtriving to ſave his life, I loſt the other light I carried in my hand. This reduced us to a ſtate of the blackeſt darkneſs, and in that condition, we could not ſtir. It was a horrible ſcene. It chilled my blood, and curdled it in my veins: but I had a tinder-box, matches, and wax-candle, in my pocket, and ſoon recovered the deſirable light; at which we lit other torches, and proceeded to aſcend the rough and rocky ſteep, till we came to the fountain that made the deſcending flood. The opening upwards from that became very narrow, and the ſlant ſo great, that it was extremely difficult to go on; but as I could ſee the day at the end of it, I reſolved to ſtrive hard, and mount, if poſſible, theſe remaining 60 yards. In ſhort, we did the work. As before related, we [369]came out this way, and from the diſmal caverns of night aſcended to a delightful plain; from which we again beheld the glorious ſun, and had the fineſt points of view. It was by this time noon, and under the ſhade of ſome aged trees, that grew on the banks of a great lake, on the ſummit of this vaſt hill, I ſat down to ſome bread and wine I had brought with me for relief. Never was repaſt more ſweet. I was not only fatigued very much; but, had been in fear as to my ever climbing up, and knew not how to get down, when I had mounted two thirds of the way. The deſcent was a thouſand times more dangerous than the going towards the top.

72. We deſcended from the top of the mountain, we had travelled through, and arrive at Mr. Harcourt's houſe.

When I had done, I walked about to ſee if there was any way down the mountain's ſides, to go to Ulubrae, from whence I came; but for miles it was a frightful perpendicular rock, next that place, and impoſſible for a goat to deſcend; and on the ſide that faced Biſhoprick, and a fine country houſe and gardens, about a quarter of a mile off, in a delightful valley, that extended with all the beauties of wood and lawn, meadow and water, from the foot of the mountain I was on, the precipice here was a terrible way for a man to venture down; but it was poſſible to do it with a long pole, at [370]the hazard of his life, as the rocks projected in many places, and the ſide went ſloping off; and therefore I reſolved to deſcend. I could not think of going back the way I came; ſince I had got ſafe into day again, I thought it better to riſk my limbs in the face of the ſun, than periſh as I might do in the black and diſmal inſide of thoſe tremendous hills. Beſides, the houſe in my view, might be perhaps the one I wanted. It was poſſible my friend Turner might live there.

With art and caution then I began to deſcend, and ſo happily took every offered advantage of jutting rock and path in my way, that without any accident I got in ſafety down; tho' the perils were ſo great, that often I could not reach from rock to rock with my pole. In this caſe, I aimed the point of my pole at the ſpot I intended to light on, and clapped my feet cloſe to it, when I went off in the air from the rock: the pole coming firſt to the place broke the fall, and then ſliding gently down by it, I pitched on the ſpot I deſigned to go to, though ſix, ſeven, or eight fathom off, and the part of the rock below not more than a yard broad. It is a frightful piece of activity to a byſtander; but the youths on the mountains of Ireland make nothing of it: they are as expert at this work as the Teneriff [371]men: from them I learned it; and made Ralph ſo perfect in the action, while he travelled with me, that he could go from rock to rock like a bird.

My reception at Mr. Harcourt's houſe. When we came to the ground, I ſent my man before me to the houſe, with my humble ſervice to Mr. Harcourt the maſter of it, and to let him know, that I had travelled through the inſide of one of the high mountains that ſurrounded his houſe, and on coming out of the top of it, had made the precipice next him my road to the valley he lived in; that I knew not which way to turn next, in order to go to Cumberland, and begged leave to dine with him and receive his information. — This ſtrange meſſage, delivered by Ralph with much comic gravity, that gentleman could not tell what to make of; as I had ordered my young man not to explain himſelf, but ſtill ſay, that we had travelled the inſide of the mountain, and came down the precipice. This was ſo ſurprizing a thing to Mr. Harcourt and his daughter, that they walked out with ſome impatience to ſee this extraordinary traveller, and expreſſed no little amazement, when they came near me. After a ſalute, Mr. Harcourt told me he did not underſtand what my ſervant had ſaid to him; nor could he comprehend how I arrived in this valley, as there was but one paſſage into it at the front [372]of his houſe; and my being on foot too, encreaſed the wonder of my appearing in the place: but whatever way I came, I was welcome to his houſe, and he would ſhew me the way in.

My arrival here, Sir, (I replied) is to be ſure very ſtrange, and would be almoſt incredible to hear told by another perſon, of one that journeyed 229 yards deep, to the foundation of this Alp, on the other ſide of it, then aſcended a hollow way, till he got out at the top, and came down a high and frightful precipice to the vale below: But here I am a proof of the fact. I will explain how it was done; and I began to relate every particular at large.

But tell me, Sir, (Miſs Harcourt ſaid) if you pleaſe, why did you not return the way you came; ſince the other ſide of the mountain is impoſſible to deſcend, as you inform us, on account of its being a perpendicular ſteep; and that you muſt have hazarded your life a thouſand times, in coming down the way you did with the pole? I tremble as I look at the place, and only with fancy's eye, ſee you on the deſcent. Beſide, the gentlemen you left on the other ſide of the hill, will conclude you loſt, and be very greatly troubled on the account.

My reaſon, Madam, (I anſwering, ſaid) for coming down this very dangerous way, [373]was, becauſe I thought it, with all its perils, much ſafer than the inſide road I had come. My activity, I had reaſon to think, was ſuperior to the difficulties of the outward way, and if I ſhould fall, it would be in the light of heaven, with a human habitation in view, that might afford me ſome relief, if I only broke my bones; but, if in deſcending the very ſteep and horrible caverns of the hill, which with the greateſt difficulty I climbed up, I ſhould happen to get a fall, as in all human probability I would, and break a limb in theſe moſt diſmal cavities of eternal night, I muſt have periſhed in the moſt miſerable manner, without a poſſibility of obtaining any relief. Nor is this all, madam. The thing that brought me here among the mountains of Richmondſhire, was to find a gentleman of my acquaintance, and when I ſaw your houſe from the top of the mountain, I did not know but it might be his. I fanſied it was, as the ſituation anſwered my friend's deſcription of the ſpot he lived on.

And if it had been his, madam, it would have put an end to all my toils; for I am a wanderer upon the face of the earth, through the cruelty of a mother-in-law; and the unreaſonableneſs of a rich father; who has forſaken me, becauſe I will not ſubmit to the declarations and deciſions of weak and fallible men, in matters of pure revelation and [374]divine faith, and own the infallibility of the orthodox ſyſtem. Becauſe the aſſent of my mind could not go beyond the perception of my underſtanding, and I would not allow that the popular confeſſion is the faith once delivered to the ſaints, therefore I was thrown off, and obliged to become the pilgrim you ſee before you.

This hiſtory of a forlorn ſeemed ſtranger to the young lady and her father than even the account of my journey through the inſide of a mountain, and down a precipice that a goat would ſcarce venture. They were both very greatly amazed at my relation, and Mr. Harcourt was going to aſk me ſome queſtions, when one of his ſervants came to let him know that dinner was ſerving up, and by this put an end to our converſation. The maſter of the houſe brought me into a fine room, and I ſaw on the table an elegant dinner: there was likewiſe a grand ſideboard, and ſeveral men ſervants attending: miſs Harcourt ſat at the head of the table, and at her right hand two young ladies, vaſtly handſome, whom I ſhall have occaſion to mention hereafter in this journal: two ladies more were on the other ſide of her, pretty women, but no beauties; and next them ſat three gentlemen; ſenſible, well-behaved men; one of them a maſter of muſick, the other a maſter [375]languages, and the third a great painter; who were kept in the houſe on large ſalaries, to teach the young lady theſe things: Mr. Harcourt placed me by himſelf, and was not only extremely civil, but manifeſted a kind of fondneſs as if he was well pleaſed with my arrival. He and his daughter took great care of me, and treated me as if I had been a man of diſtinction rather than the poor pilgrim they ſaw me, with my ſtaff in my hand. The young lady talked to me in a very pleaſant manner, and as I ſaw the whole company were inclined to be very chearful, I clubbed as much as I could to promote good-humour, and encreaſe the feſtivity of the table. We laughed the afternoon away in a charming manner, and when we had done, we all went to walk in the gardens. Here the company ſoon ſeparated, as the various beauties of the place inclined various minds to different things and parts. Some, penſive roamed in ſhady walks; ſome ſat by playing fountains; and others went to gather fruits and flowers. I had the honour to walk with Miſs Harcourt to a canal at ſome diſtance, and as we went, this young lady told me, ſhe did not well underſtand me as to what I had ſaid of religion being concerned in my becoming a traveller, and deſired me to be a little more particular. That I will, [376]and immediately proceeded in the following manner.

73. A diſcourſe with miſs Harcourt in relation to my religion.

My father, madam, is a man of great learning, virtue and knowledge, but orthodox to the laſt degree, and ſent me to the univerſity on purpoſe to make me a theologer, that I might be an able defender of the Creed of St. Athanaſius, and convince the poor people of the country he lived in, and in good time (he fondly hoped) the inhabitants of many other countries; that notwithſtanding the ſymbol I have mentioned is what no human apprehenſion can comprehend, and the judgment hath nothing to act on in the conſideration of it;—that there is nothing to be underſtood in that ſymbol, nor can a man form any determination of the matter therein contained; — yet they muſt believe this great and awful myſtery: that three perſons and Gods are only one perſon and God; and, on peril of eternal miſery, they muſt confeſs that, Father, Son, and Holy Ghoſt, tho' three Beings, as diſtinct as any three things in the univerſe, yet are only one Being. This myſtery I was to preach up in his church, (a church in a field, near his houſe, to which he had the right of preſenting,) and enflame the people againſt reaſon, that traitor to God and religion, which our adverſaries, the Chriſtian deiſts, would make Lord and King in oppoſition to faith. I [377]was to tell my beloved, that reaſon is a carnal ſenſual devil, and that inſtead of hearkening to this tempter, they muſt aſſent to thoſe heavenly propoſitions, which give wiſdom without ideas, and certainty without knowledge. You muſt believe, my beloved, that none is before or after the other. — None is greater or leſs than another. The infidels call this an unintelligible piece of nonſenſe: but it is, my beloved, a very tranſcendent myſtery. It does, we muſt own, ſtagger and aſtoniſh us, being a thing beyond our reach to comprehend; but, it muſt be believed, on peril of eternal miſery, as I before obſerved: and it is eaſy to be believed, for this plain reaſon, (given by a very learned and pious biſhop of our church) to wit, that it is too high to be by us comprehended. This was the opinion of that great prelate, Dr. Beveridge, in his Private Thoughts, p. 52. to which book I refer you, my beloved, for more of his admirable reaſoning on this capital article, and farther obſerve to you, that not only this moſt pious biſhop, and many other moſt excellent prelates were of this way of thinking; but all the moſt admirable divines have declared in their ſermons, and other matchleſs writings, that the more incredible the Athanaſian creed is, and the fuller of contradictions, the more honour we do to our God in believing it. It is the glory of orthodox Chriſtians, that their faith is not [378]only contrary to the carnal mind, but even to the moſt exalted reaſon. In matters of faith, we muſt renounce our reaſon, even tho' it be the only thing that diſtinguiſhes us from the beaſts, and makes us capable of any religion at all. No human arguments are to interfere in this victorious principle: the catholic faith is the reverſe of rational religion, and except a man believe it faithfully, he muſt go into everlaſting fire and brimſtone (35) .

In this manner, madam, like a mad bigot, a flaming zealot, and a ſublime believer, was I to preach to the people of Ireland, and be [379]an apoſtle for that faith which is an obedience to unreaſonable commands: but unfortunately, for my father's deſign; and fortunately, for my ſoul; I was, on entring the univerſity, put into the hands of a gentleman, who abhorred modern orthodoxy, and made the eſſential conſtitutive happineſs and perfection of every intelligent being conſiſt in the conformity of our mind to the moral rectitude of the Divine Nature. This excellent man convinced my underſtanding, that even faith in Chriſt is of an inferior nature to this: it is only the means to obtain it. Such a conformity and obedience of the heart and conſcience to the will of God ought to be my religion, as it was the religion of our Saviour himſelf.

Thus, madam, was I inſtructed by a maſter of arts, my private tutor, and when to his leſſons I added my own careful examinations of the vulgar faith, and the mind of our Lord as I found it in the books, I was thoroughly ſatisfied, that an act of faith is an act of reaſon, and an act of reaſon an act of faith, in religious matters; — that our Lord was not the great God; nor a part of that compound, called the Triune-God; the miſerable invention of divines; but, a more extraordinary meſſenger than the prophets under the law, choſen by the divine wiſdom, to publiſh the will of God to mankind, and ſent under the character of his ſon, and ſpiritual [380]heir of his inheritance the church, to new form the ages, and fix ſuch good principes in the minds of men, as would be productive of all righteouſneſs in the converſation: that he was ſent to deſtroy ſin and the kingdom of Satan; and to bring the human race to a perfect obedience to the will of the Supreme Being.

All this, madam, was as plain to me as the ſun in ſummer's bright day; and therefore, inſtead of laying aſide my underſtanding, and believing things without any rational ground or evidence at all; — inſtead of going into order, to draw revealed concluſions from revealed propoſitions, and by a deep logic, make ſcripture conſequences, that have no meaning in the words, for the faith of the people; I was ſo free and ingenuous as to let my father know, that of all things in the world I never would be a parſon, ſince the character obliged me to ſwear and ſubſcribe to articles I could not find in my bible; nor would I, as a layman, ever read, or join in the ſervice of reading the tritheiſtic liturgy and offices he uſed in his family. I was determined, tho' I loſt his favor and large fortune by the reſolution; to live and die a Chriſtian deiſt; confeſſing before men the perſonal unity and perfections of the true God, and the perſonal mediatorial office of Jeſus Chriſt. As St. Paul mentained the perſonal unity and abſolute ſupremacy of [381]the true God, and in his deſcription of the Deity, did not tell the Athenians, that he was a Triune Being, to be conſidered under the notion of three perſons, of three underſtandings and wills, in a co-ordinate triplicity of all divine attributes and perfections; but one individual perſonal Agent, — one great Spirit, or mind, ſelf-exiſtent, and omnipotent in wiſdom and action — one Supreme Almighty Creator and Governor of the world, — the God and Father of Jeſus Chriſt; I ſhall therefore, in obedience to the apoſtle, and to the other inſpired writers, believe in an worſhip the ſame God, the One God, the only true God, as our Lord ſays in Matthew and Mark; — through the alone mediation and interceſſion of Jeſus Chriſt, our Redeemer and only begotten Son of God; — depending upon the effectual aid and aſſiſtance of the bleſſed Spirit, in hope of a glorious immortality. This is,—this ſhall be my religion, whatever I may feel from an antichriſtian tyranny, on account of the confeſſion.—Tho' an outrage of uncharitable zeal ſhould ſtrip me of every worldly comfort, and reduce me to a want of bread.—If I ſhould become a ſpectacle to men and angels by this faith, yet I will believe as Jeſus Chriſt and his apoſtles have ordered the world to believe. — No unintelligible cant, or ſcholaſtic jargon for me. The Holy Ghoſt has in ſcripture expreſſed it ſufficiently and [382] unexceptionably clear, — that there is One Supreme Independent Firſt-Cauſe of all things, a Spirit, that is, One Spirit, One God: I am God, and there is none like me: I am God, and there is none elſe; beſide Me; with Me; none but Me. — Thus does the Holy Ghoſt declare; and what ſignify the deſpicable, heretical declarations of the doctors, in reſpect of this?

Then, as a teſt of Chriſtianity, the ſame bleſſed Spirit adds, — that Jeſus is the true Meſſiah, was ſent from God to reveal his will for the ſalvation of man, and is the only Mediator betwixt God and man. Thus has the Holy Ghoſt regulated our faith and practice, and I think it incumbent on me to mind what he ſays, and flee the invented pieties of our theologers.—I did ſo, and diſobliged my father. I loſt his favor intirely. He would take no farther notice of me, and I became as you ſee a wanderer.

This diſcourſe, delivered with my fire and action, amazed Miſs Harcourt ſo greatly, that for ſome time after I had done, ſhe could not ſpeak, but continued looking with great earneſtneſs at me. At laſt however ſhe ſaid, I am glad, Sir, it has been my fate to meet with you, and muſt, when there is more time, converſe with you on this ſubject. My father and I have had ſome doubts as to the truth of the Athanaſian creed; but he told me, he did not chuſe to examine the [383]thing, as it had the ſanction of ages, and was believed by the greateſt divines in all nations. If it be wrong, let the churchmen anſwer for it. But this does not ſatisfy me; and ſince I have ſeen one that has forſaken all rather than live a diſciple of Athanaſius, after a thorough examination of the ſyſtem; and that you have now ſaid ſome things againſt it that ſhew the folly of believing it, and make it a faith the moſt prepoſterous and unreaſonable, I am determined to enquire into the merit of it, and ſee if chriſtians ought to acknowledge the ſupreme dominion and authority of God the Father; — that the Father is abſolutely God, the great God in the abſolute ſupreme ſenſe by nature; and the Son, only a God by communication of divinity from the Father, that is, by having received from the Father, the Supreme Cauſe, his being, attributes, and power over the whole creation: — or, if they ought to aſcribe ſupreme authority, and original independent abſolute dominion to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghoſt; three diſtinct ſupreme gods, and yet but one ſupreme God, as the church informs us in her famous creed, and thereby makes us ſwallow a contradiciton, as I have often thought, and a doctrine againſt which a great number of texts can be produced. This I will examine. My reaſon ſhall be no longer ſilent in ſo important a caſe. If a [384] Trinity in unity of equal minds or gods is not to be proved by the inſpired writings, the doctors preaching it, and by creed requiring it, will be no juſtifiable plea or excuſe for me, I am ſenſible, in the great riſing day. I had better, in ſuch caſe, leave all as you have bravely done, were my father ſo orthodox and furious a bigot as to force me to be a religioniſt againſt my conſcience. What I have to beg of you, Sir, (Miſs Harcourt continued) is, that you will to-morrow, oblige me with your thoughts on the texts I have marked, as produced by orthodox divines for their myſterious religion. If you make me ſenſible that thoſe texts do not prove the doctrine they are brought for, and of conſequence, that the doctrine of the trinity as by them taught, is the work of uninſpired writers, I ſhall renounce it to be ſure. I will no longer miſtake contradictions for myſteries. The ſchemes and inventions of men ſhall not paſs with me for the revelations of God (36) .

74. Mr. Harcourt's obſervation on our diſcourſe, and generous offer to me.

[385]

Here Mr. Harcourt came up to us, and deſired to know, (if it was a fair queſtion) what we two had been talking ſo earneſtly on; for it ſeemed at a diſtance to be ſomething more than ordinary. I will tell you, Sir, his daughter replied, and immediately began to relate the whole conference, and her reſolution. Your reſolution (the father ſaid) is excellent. You have not only my conſent, but I recommend it to you as the nobleſt work you can employ any time on. For my part, Sir, (Mr. Harcourt continued, turning himſelf to me) I never liked this part of our proteſtant religion, and have often wiſhed our public prayers had been more conformable to the ſimplicity of the goſpel; that we had been contented with what our Maſter and the Holy Spirit delivered, and not made human compoſitions the ſtandard of ſalvation: but ſince the church in her wiſdom has thought it ſhould be otherwiſe, I have ſubmitted to her authority, and been ſilent on the doctrines ſhe claims a right to determine; though ſome of them to me appear doubtful, and others repugnant to ſcripture: beſide, my ſtudies have been in other fields than that of controverſy: mathematics and antiquities have employed my time, and I have neither taſte nor capacity for that criticiſm which is neceſſary for the [386]examination of ſuch points: greatly however do I honour thoſe who have the ability and patience to go through the work, as I muſt own it is of the moſt importance, and that the orthodox faith is a ſad thing, if the truth be, after all our Athanaſian believing, that Chriſt is no more than God's inſtrument, as St. Peter and St. Paul name him; a ſucceſful teacher of wiſdom, righteouſneſs, ſanctification, and redemption: and that God is to be owned and praiſed, as the true, chief, and original cauſe of all ſpiritual bleſſings, according to the counſel of his own will, his own good pleaſure, purpoſe, etc. without partner or ſecond perſon, to intreat and ſatisfy for us. If this be the caſe, may the Lord have mercy on our poor orthodox ſouls: and as it may be ſo, I honour you for enquiring into the matter, and eſpecially for your good Spirit in prefering the things that are eternal, when what you thought truth could not be held with things temporal. I have (Mr. Harcourt continued) a very great eſteem for you on this account, and if I can be of ſervice to you, I will. He imagined I might want money, and if I did, he would lend me a hundred guineas, without intereſt, payable on my note of hand, when I could. He immediately took out of his pocket-book a bank note for that ſum, and preſſed me to [387]accept it. He likewiſe invited me to ſtay at his houſe, while he continued in the country, which would be for a month longer. He aſſured me alſo, that I might make it my reſidence after he left it, if I pleaſed: there would be two ſervants to attend me, and there was excellent mutton, and other things, for my table. Nor is this all; you ſhall have the key of my ſtudy.

Theſe offers aſtoniſhed me, and I ſaid, moſt generous Sir, I return you the thanks of a grateful heart, and will ever remember your goodneſs to me with that ſenſe ſuch uncommon kindneſs deſerves, tho' I cannot enjoy the benefits you would make me happy with. As to money, I do not want any yet, and when I do, it will be time enough for me to borrow, if I ſhould find any one, like you, ſo benevolently diſpoſed as to lend me caſh without ſecurity and intereſt: and as to ſtaying at your houſe, that offer I cannot accept, as I am engaged to a near and rich friend, who will be to me a ſubaltern providence, if he can be found, and ſecure me from the evils my attachment to truth has expoſed me to. One week however I will ſtay with you, ſince you are ſo good as to invite me in this kind manner.

Here then I ſtayed a week, and paſſed it in a moſt happy way. Mr. Harcourt was [388]fond of me, and did every thing in his power to render the place agreeable. His lovely daughter was not only as civil as it was poſſible to be, but did me the honour to commence a friendſhip with me, which laſted from that time till death deſtroyed the golden thread that linked it.

75. An account of Harriot Euſebia Harcourt.

Reader, this young lady, Harriot Euſebia Harcourt, was the foundreſs of a religious houſe of proteſtant recluſes, who are ſtill a ſociety in that part of Richmondſhire where firſt I ſaw her and her father. They are under no vow, but while they pleaſe to continue members, live as they do in nunneries, and in piety, and in all the parts of the chriſtian temper, endeavour a reſemblance of their divine Lord and Maſter; with this diſtinction however, that to the plan of the regards due from man by the divine Law to God, to his fellow-creatures, and to himſelf, they add muſick and painting for their diverſion, and unbend their minds in theſe delightful arts, for a few hours every day. This makes them excel in theſe particulars. They are great maſters in all kinds of muſick, and do wonders with the pencil.

Euſebia was but juſt turned of twenty when I firſt ſaw her, in the year 1725, and then her muſical performances were admirable — her pictures had the ordonnance, [389]colouring, and expreſſion of a great maſter. She was born with a pictureſque genius, and a capacity to give meaſure and movement to compoſitions of harmony. Her muſic at the time I am ſpeaking of had a moſt ſurprizing power: and in painting, long before this time, ſhe aſtoniſhed. When ſhe was a child, nine years old, and had no maſter, ſhe would ſketch with a black lead pencil on a ſheet of paper the pictures of various kinds that came in her way, and make ſuch imitations as deſerved the attention of judges. This made her father get her an eminent maſter, and ſhe had not been long under his direction, when ſhe was able to infuſe a ſoul into her figures, and motion into her compoſitions. She not only drew landſkips, and low ſubjects with a ſucceſs great as Teniers, but evinced by her paintings, that ſhe brought into the world with her an aptitude for works of a ſuperior claſs. Her pictures ſhew that ſhe was not the laſt among the painters of hiſtory. They are as valuable for the merit of the execution as for the merit of the ſubjects.

76. An account of Mrs. Harcourt's pictures of the Revelations of S. John.

Her hiſtories of the revelations of St. John, which ſhe finiſhed a little before her death, from the firſt viſion to the laſt, demonſtrate a genius very wonderful, and that her hand was perfected at the ſame time [390]with her imagination. If this ſeries of pictures is not in every reſpect equal to Giotto's on the ſame ſubject, (which I have ſeen in the cloyſter of St. Clare at Naples), yet theſe paintings are treated with greater truth, and ſhew that the imagination of the painter had a hand and eye at its diſpoſal to diſplay the fineſt and compleateſt ideas. The great artiſt is obvious in them.

Pictures. The firſt picture of this Series is a repreſentation of the inſide of the glorious temple, (that was made the grand ſcene of all the things St. John ſaw in the Spirit), the golden-lamp-ſconce, called the ſeven candleſticks, which afforded the ſanctuary all its light, and the auguſt perſonage, who appears in refulgent brightneſs in the viſion, in the midſt of the ſeven golden candleſticks. The majeſtic and godlike form which the apoſtle beheld is wonderfully painted. He is repreſented with more than human majeſty. Like Raphael, in his picture of the Eternal Father, in one of the Vatican chapels, ſhe does not inſpire us merely with veneration, ſhe ſtrikes us even with an awful terror: elle n'inſpire pas une ſimple veneration, elle-imprime une terreur reſpectueuſe. In his right hand, this grand perſon holds the main ſhaft that ſupports the ſix branches of the ſix lighted lamps, and the ſeventh lamp [391]at the top of the main trunk, which gleam like a rod of ſeven ſtars, as it is written, having in his hand ſeven ſtars, and in this attitude, with his face to the apoſtle, he appears in the midſt of the ſeven golden candleſticks, the emblems of the churches, walking, or attending to trim them, the churches; with a ſharp two-edged ſword, that is, the powerful word of God, as Aaron walked to trim the real lamps with the golden ſnuffers. St. John is ſeen on the floor. He is looking in great ſurprize at the whole appearance, and as with amazement he beholds the divine Perſon in the viſion, he ſeems ſtruck with dread, and going to faint away; as he ſays in the Apocalyps, — When I ſaw him, I fell at his feet as dead.

Picture 2. The next picture in this ſeries is a continuation of, or another repreſentation of the inſide of the temple, the golden lamp-ſconce of ſeven golden candleſticks, and the auguſt perſonage in refulgent brightneſs, and ſplendors tranſcendently glorious; but with this difference, that in this piece, the divine perſonage does not hold the main ſhaft of the branches of lights in his right-hand, or ſtand in the midſt of the candleſticks; but, notwithſtanding his ſublime dignity, is painted with a godlike compaſſion in his face and manner, and with the greateſt tenderneſs [392]raiſes and ſupports the apoſtle. You ſee him (as St. John deſcribes him); — he laid his right-hand upon me (the hand which before held the ſeven ſtars, or lighted golden lamps, that exhibited an appearance not unlike a conſtellation of ſtars) ſaying unto me, fear not. I am the firſt and the laſt. I am he that liveth, even tho' I was dead, and behold I am alive for evermore, Amen. And I have the keys of hell and of death. — One almoſt hears theſe words from the lips of the auguſt form, ſo wonderfully is the figure painted,— ſo happily has the pencil counterfeited nature: and the apoſtle appears to revive in tranſports, as he knows from the words that it is his Lord and Maſter is ſpeaking to him. It is a fine picture.

Picture 3. The third painting in this ſeries is the ſubſequent viſion, in the 4th and 5th chapters of the Revelation of John the Divine. — In a part of the heavens that are opened, the throne of God is repreſented by a cryſtal ſeat or glory, and from it proceed flaſhings of a bright flame like lightning and thunder, to repreſent the awful majeſty of the One, and One Only, True God, the Supreme Lord of all things: ſeven lamps of fire are burning before this throne, as emblems of the ſeven ſpirits, or principal ſervants of God, to ſhew with what purity, conſtancy, and zeal, the ſpirits of the juſt [393]made perfect ſerve God in the heavenly church; and next them appears a cryſtal ſea of great brightneſs and beauty; much more glorious than the brazen ſea in the temple, which held the water for the uſe of the prieſts. This ſea alludes to that purity that is required in all perſons who have the honour and happineſs of a near approach to God, as he manifeſts himſelf on the throne of inacceſſible light, or, in the moral Shechinah in this lower world (37.) The next figures are the four living creatures, or cherubim of Ezekiel (which our Engliſh tranſlation very badly renders four beaſts) and they are placed in [394]the middle of each ſide of the throne, in he whole circle round about, full of eyes, not only before but behind: ſo as to have a direct and full view every way: without-ſide them, on ſeats, are the four and twenty elders placed, in white and ſhining garments, with crowns of gold upon their heads. The perſon who ſits on the throne appears in great majeſty and glory, and round about his throne the moſt beautiful rainbow is ſeen; to expreſs the glory of God, and his faithfulneſs to his covenant and promiſe: the four living creatures next the throne, who repreſent the angels attendant on the Shechinah, and have the appearance of a lion, a calf, a man, and an eagle, full of eyes, and with ſix wings, to expreſs the great underſtanding and power of the angels, their activity, conſtancy, and good will; — they are drawn in the act of adoring and praiſing the eternal living God; and are anſwered by the four and twenty elders, the repreſentatives of the people, the churches. So inimitably are all theſe things painted, that the faces of the cherubim and the four and twenty elders ſeem to move in worſhip and thankſgiving: one acquainted with the divine ſongs, cannot help fanſying that he hears the four living creatures, ſaying, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come; who for ever [395]waſt, and for ever wilt be, the one true God, the everlaſting Lord: and that the elders, that is, the Chriſtian people, reply, Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory, and honour, and power: for Thou haſt created all things, and for Thy pleaſure they are and were created.

The apoſtle, St. John, appears in great admiration, on account of the things before him, but ſeems more particularly affected by a book ſealed with ſeven ſeals, which the perſon who ſits on the throne holds in his right-hand;—an angel who is painted in the act of proclaiming with a loud voice, Who is worthy to open the book, and to looſe the ſeals thereof — and a lamb with ſeven horns and eyes, ſtanding juſt before the throne, within the circles of the cherubim and elders: this Lamb, repreſented as a ſacrifice, and with ſeven horns and eyes, to ſhew the power, wiſdom, and goodneſs of our Lord in the work of redemption, and the accompliſhment of all God's deſigns of wiſdom and grace, engages the attention and wonder of the apoſtle; and as this Lamb of God receives the book from the perſon on the throne, a riſing joy appears through the aſtoniſhment of St. John, and ſeems to be encreaſing, as he hears the living creatures and the elders ſing a new ſong, or hymn of a new compoſition, which expreſſes the peculiar [396]honour of the Son of God, and our peculiar engagements to him, in theſe words — Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the ſeals thereof: for thou waſt ſlain, and haſt redeemed us unto God by thy blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation. — Worthy is the Lamb that was ſlain to receive power and riches, and wiſdom and ſtrength, and honour, and glory, and bleſſing. — Bleſſing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto him, that ſitteth upon, the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever. — And as the angels conclude this ſolemn act of worſhip by ſaying, Amen; and the people by worſhipping him that liveth for ever and ever, the true God, who liveth and reigneth from everlaſting to everlaſting; and having raiſed up his Son Jeſus, ſent him to bleſs you in turning every one of you from his iniquities; the apoſtle ſeems in pleaſure to join them, and ſhews a ſenſibility and action that is very wonderful. It is a charming picture. The divine artiſt has treated the whole ſubject with the moſt elaborate and beautiful expreſſion, and with a delightful richneſs of local colours. This painting gives the beholder a full and fine idea of the viſion (38.)

77. Miſs Harcourt's character.

[397]

But it was not only in painting, and in muſick, that Miſs Harcourt excelled: ſhe had, when I firſt ſaw her, made great progreſs in her ſtudies, and diſcovered in her converſation extraordinary abilities. She talked wiſely and learnedly on many ſubjects, and in ſo charming a manner, that ſhe entered into the poſſeſſion of the heart, and the admiration of all that heard her: nor was it only in pure Italian, Spaniſh, and other languages that ſhe could expreſs her notions; but, in he correcteſt Latin ſhe often ſpoke to me, and for an hour would diſcourſe in the Roman tongue, with as great eaſe as if ſhe had been talking Engliſh. She ſpoke it without any manner of difficulty, which was more than I could do. I was ſlow, and pauſed ſometimes; but this young lady went on with that volubility of tongue the women are born with. The language being Latin was no check to her natural fluency of ſpeech.

To all this let me add, and with truth I can add it, that Euſebia, from the time I was firſt acquainted with her to her death, walked in the fear of the Lord, and of conſequence, in the comforts of the Holy Ghoſt. Religion [398]from her infancy as her ſtated and ordinary buſineſs, and her ſole concern to know and do her duty to God and men. The Proverbs of Solomon, and the pattern of Chriſt, were her ſtudy when a very young girl, and from both ſhe acquired a conduct ſo prudent and evangelical, that ſhe ſeemed at the greateſt heights of grace and goodneſs which a mortal can reach, and appeared as one that had made a prodigious proficiency in divine knowledge, and in every virtue: yet there was nothing gloomy, or even formal in her behaviour: ſhe was good-humour itſelf: frank and free; quite eaſy, and for ever chearful.

Her picture. Miſs Harcourt, at the time I am ſpeaking of, that is, in the one and twentieth year of her age, had all the qualities that conſtitute a beauty: ſhe was tall and graceful, and in every action, and her whole behaviour, to the laſt degree charming: her eyes were vaſtly fine, large and long, even with her face, black as night, and had a ſparkling brightneſs as great as could appear from the refraction of diamonds: her hair was as the poliſhed jet, deep and gloſſy; and yet, her complexion freſh as the glories of the ſpring, and her lips like a beautiful flower.

This Lady was nine years abroad with her father, who died of the plague at Conſtantinople [399]in 1733, and in the courſe of her travels, did me the honour to write me many fine letters, in which ſhe obliged me with her remarks on the things and people they ſaw in many countries. We held a correſpondence together, for a conſiderable part of the time, and in return for her valuable favours, I ſent her the beſt account I could give of the matters that came in my way. Theſe letters may perhaps appear ſome day.

In the year 34 Mrs. Harcourt returned to England, and brought over with her ſome ladies, who became conſtituents of her clauſtral houſe. They formed the moſt rational and happy ſociety that ever united, and during the life of the foundreſs, reſided ſometimes in one of the Weſtern Iſlands, but for the moſt part in Richmondſhire. Since her death, which happend in the year 45, they have lived intirely in the North of England, ſeparated from all the world by the moſt dreadful mountains. They were but twelve in number for ſeveral years, but, in the ſixth year of the Inſtituto, Mrs. Harcourt encreaſed it to twenty-four members, by taking in twelve eleves or diſciples. The twelve ſeniors govern a year about in their turns, unleſs it be the requeſt of the houſe, that the ſuperior for the year paſt ſhould continue in the office another year. This, and their eaſy [400]circumſtances, ſecure their peace, and as they are ever wiſe to that which is good, and ſimple concerning evil, they lead moſt happy lives: nor can it be otherwiſe with mortals who cultivate the grace of humility (the want of which lies at the bottom of all contentions,) and by a chriſtian prudence, make it their main work to facilitate the practice of piety, and to promote the pleaſure and the luſtre of it. Glorious women! to letters, arts, and piety, they devote thoſe hours which others waſte in vanities the moſt ſenſeleſs and deſpicable; and purſuant to the advice, and according to the rule drawn up by their illuſtrious foundreſs, live as beings that have ſouls deſigned for eternity. They act continually upon a future proſpect, and give all diligence in making conſtant advances toward the perfect day. Mrs. Harcourt ſhewed them what an uninſpired mortal could do by the means of grace: that it was poſſible for aſſiſted human nature (feeble as fleſh and blood is) to reſiſt temptations the moſt violent, and by the ſupreme motives of our religion, acquit ourſelves like chriſtians. If there be a devil to aſſault, a corrupt heart to oppoſe, and many difficulties to be encountred, yet her conduct was a demonſtration, that thoſe who are heirs of the heavenly country, may chuſe and proſecute [401]their beſt intereſts, and improve the divine life to a high degree. Let us (ſhe uſed to ſay) make ſalvation not only a concern on the bye, but the governing aim thro' the preſent life, and we ſhall not only live like the primitive chriſtians, but die for our holy faith, with more reſolution than the worthies of Greece and Rome, tho' death ſhould appear in all his array of terrors. Neither adverſity nor proſperity could then tempt us to drop a grain of incenſe before any idol, or commit any action that diſhonoured the goſpel. Let what will happen, in all events, we ſhould ſecure the future happineſs of our ſouls, and thereby provide for the everlaſting glory and felicity of our bodies too in the morning of the reſurrection.

78. 1725. Our return to Ulubrae by a dangerous way.

The twenty-fifth day of June I took my leave of Miſs Harcourt and her father, and the reſt of the good company, and on horſes I borrowed, we returned to the philoſophers at Ulubrae. It was nineteen miles round of moſt terrible road; a great part of it being deep and ſwampy bottom, with holes up to the horſes ſhoulders in ſome places; and for ſeveral miles, we were obliged to ride on the ſides of very ſteep and craggy mountains, in a path ſo very narrow, that we riſked life, and paſſed in terror: a wrong ſtep would have been deſtruction beyond [402]recovery. It was likewiſe no ſmall perplexity to find, that I was going back again, the courſe being ſouth and ſouthweſt; and that there was no other way of journeying from Mr. Harcourt's to Ulubrae, but through the paſs I firſt travelled from Weſtmorland; unleſs I rid from Mr. Harcourt's into Cumberland, and then round through Biſhoprick to the valley the gentlemen lived in. On then I went at all hazards, and in a tedious manner was forced to creep the way: but to make ſome amends, the proſpects from the hills were fine, and things very curious occurred. Groupes of creſts of mountains appeared here and there, like large cities with towers and old Gothick edifices, and from caverns in their ſides torrents of water ſtreamed out, and tumbled in various courſes to the moſt delightful vales below. In ſome of the vaſt hills there were openings quite through, ſo as to ſee the ſun, at the end of three or four thouſand yards; and in many of them were ſloping caverns, very wonderful to behold.

79. A fine chamber in a mountain, and a paſſage from the room to a valley on the other ſide of the vaſt precipice.

I found in one of them, near the top of a very high mountain, a deſcent like ſteps of ſtairs, that was in breadth and height like the iſle of a church, for 300 yards, and then ended at a kind of door, or ſmall arched opening, that was high enough [403]for a tall man to walk into a grand room which it led to. This chamber was a ſquare of 17 yards, and had an arched roof about 20 high. The ſtone of it was a green marble, not earthy and opake, but pure and cryſtalline, which made it appear very beautiful, as the walls were as ſmooth as if the beſt poliſh had made them ſo. There was another opening or door at the other ſide of this chamber, and from it likewiſe went a deſcent like ſteps, but the downward paſſage here was much ſteeper than the other I had come to, and the opening not more than one third as wide and high; narrowing gradually to the bottom of the ſloping road, till it ended in a round hole, a yard and a quarter every way. I could ſee the day at the opening below, tho' it ſeemed at a great diſtance from me, and as it was not dangerous to deſcend, I determined to go down.

The deſcent was 479 yards in a ſtraight line, and opened in a view of meadows, ſcattered trees, and ſtreams, that were enchantingly fine. There appeared to be about four and twenty acres of fine land, quite ſurrounded with the moſt frightful precipices in the world, and in the center of it a neat and pretty little country houſe, on an eaſy riſing ground. I could diſcover with my long [404]glaſs a young and handſome woman ſitting at the door, engaged in needle-work of ſome kind; and on the margin of a brook hard by, another charmer ſtood, angling for fiſh of ſome ſort: a garden appeared near the manſion that was well improved; and in the fields were ſheep and goats, horſes, and cows: cocks and hens, ducks and geeſe, were walking about the ground; and I could perceive a college of bees. The whole formed a charming ſcene.

80. An account of the inhabitants of the valley I came into.

Pleaſed with the view, and impatient to know who the two charmers were, I quite forgot the poor ſituation in which I left Tim, holding the horſes at the mouth of the cavern, on the dangerous ſide of ſo high a hill, and proceeded immediately to the houſe, as ſoon as I had recovered myſelf from a fall. My foot ſlipt in the paſſage, about ſix yards from the day, and I came rolling out of the mountain in a violent and ſurprizing manner. It was juſt mid-day when I came up to the ladies, and as they did not ſee me till they chanced to turn round, they were ſo amazed at my appearing, they changed colour, and one of them ſhrieked aloud; but this fright was ſoon over, on my aſſuring them that I was their moſt humble ſervant, and had againſt my will tumbled out of the hole that was at the bottom of that vaſt mountain before them. This I explained, [405]and proteſted that I had not a thought of paying them a viſit, when curioſity led me into an opening near the top of the hill, as I was travelling on; but that when I did get through ſo wonderful a paſſage, and ſaw what was ſtill more ſtrange, when I arrived in the vale, to wit, two ladies, in ſo wild and ſilent a place, I judged it my duty to pay my reſpects, and aſk if you had any commands that I could execute in the world? This was polite, they ſaid, and gave me thanks; but told me, they had no favor to aſk than that I would dine with them, and inform them how it happened that I was obliged to travel over theſe ſcarce paſſable mountains, where there was no ſociety nor ſupport to be had. Beſide, if in riding here, you ſhould receive a miſchief, there was not a poſſibility of getting any relief. There muſt be ſomething very extraordinary ſurely, that could cauſe you to journey over ſuch frightful hills, and through the deep bottoms at the foot of them.

Ladies (I replied), neceſſity and curioſity united are the ſpring that move me over theſe mountains, and enable me to bear the hardſhips I meet with in theſe ways. Forced from home by the cruelties of a ſtep-mother, and forſaken by my father on her account, I am wandering about the precipices of Richmondſhire in ſearch of a gentleman, my Friend; to whoſe hoſpitable houſe and generous [406]breaſt I ſhould be welcome, if I could find out where he lives in ſome part of this remote and deſolate region: and as my curioſity is more than ordinary, and I love to contemplate the works of nature, which are very grand and aſtoniſhing in this part of the world, I have gone many a mile out of my way while I have been looking for ſeveral days paſt for my friend, and have ventured into places where very few I believe would go. It was this taſte for natural knowledge that travelled me down the inſide of the mountain I am juſt come out of. If I had not had it, I ſhould never have known there was ſo delightful a little country here as what I now ſee: nor ſhould I have had the honor and happineſs of being known to you.

But tell me, Sir, (one of theſe beauties ſaid) how have you lived for ſeveral days among theſe rocks and deſart places, as there are no inns in this country, nor a houſe, except this here, that we know? are you the favorite of the fairies and genies — or does the wiſe man of the hills bring you every night in a cloud to his home?

It looks ſomething like it, madam, (I anſwering ſaid) and the thing to be ſure muſt appear very ſtrange: but it is like other ſtrange things: when the nature of them is known, they appear eaſy and plain. This [407]country I find conſiſts, for the moſt part, of ranges and groups of mountains horrible to behold, and of bogs, deep ſwampy narrow bottoms, and waters that fall and run innumerable ways: but this is not always the caſe: like the charming plain I am now on, there are many flowery and delicious extenſive pieces of ground, encloſed by vaſt ſurrounding hills — the fineſt intervals betwixt the mountains: the ſweeteſt interchange between hill and valley, I believe in all the world, is to be found in Richmondſhire, and in ſeveral of thoſe delightful vales I diſcovered inhabitants as in this place: but the houſes are ſo ſeparated by fells ſcarce paſſable, and torrents of water, that thoſe who live in the centre of one group of mountains know not any thing of agreeable inhabitants that may dwell on the other ſide of the hills in an adjacent vale. If there had been a fine ſpot at the bottom of the precipice I found the opening in, and people living there, (as might have been the caſe) you ladies who live here, could have no notion of them, as you knew nothing of a paſſage from the foot to the ſummit of yonder mountain, within ſide of the vaſt hill, and if you did, would never venture to viſit that way; and as there is not a paſs in this chain of hills, to ride or walk through, to the other ſide of them: but the way out of this valley we are now [408]in, as I judge from the trending of the mountains all round us, muſt be an opening into ſome part of Cumberland. For this reaſon Stanemore hills may have ſeveral families among them, tho' you have never heard of them, and I will now give you an account of ſome, who behaved in the moſt kind and generous manner to me. Here I began to relate ſome particulars concerning my friend Price and his excellent wife; the admirable Mrs. Burcot and Mrs. Fletcher; the philoſophers who lived at Ulubrae, to whom I was returning; and the generous Mr. Harcourt, and his excellent daughter, whom I left in the morning; and at whoſe houſe I arrived by travelling up the dark bowels of a tremendous mountain; as, on the contrary, I arrived at theirs by a deſcent through yonder frightful hill, till I came rolling out by a fall within, in a very ſurpriſing and comical way; a way that would have made you laugh, ladies; or, in a fright, cry out, if you had happened to be walking near the hole or opening in the bottom of that hill, when, by a ſlip of my foot, in deſcending, a few yards from the day, I tumbled over and over, not only down what remained of the dark ſteep within, but the high ſloping bank that reaches from the the outſide of the opening to the firſt flat part of the vale. There is nothing wonderful [409]then in my living in this lone country for ſo many days. The only ſtrange thing is, conſidering the waters and ſwamps, that I was not drowned; or, an account of the precipices and deſcents I have been engaged on, that I did not break my neck, or my bones: but ſo long we are to live as Providence hath appointed for the accompliſhment of the grand divine ſcheme. Till the part allotted us is acted, we are ſecure. When it is done, we muſt go, and leave the ſtage for other players to come on.

The ladies ſeemed greatly entertained with my hiſtories, and eſpecially with my tumbling out of the mountain into their vale. They laughed very heartily; but told me, if they had happened to be ſitting near the hole, in the bottom of that tremendous rocky mountain, as they ſometimes did, and often wondered where the opening went to, and that I had come rolling down upon them, they would have been frightened out of their ſenſes; for they muſt have thought it a very ſtrange appearance: without hearing the hiſtory of it, they muſt think it a prodigious occurrence, or exception from the conſtant affairs of nature.

This might be, ladies, (I anſwered,) but from ſeeing me before your eyes you muſt own, that many things may be fact, which at firſt may ſeem to exceed the common limits [410]of truth. Impoſſible or ſupernatural ſome people conclude many caſes to be that have not the leaſt difficulty in them, but happen to be made of occurrences and places they have not ſeen, nor heard the like of before. Things thought prodigious or incredible by ignorance and weakneſs, will appear to right knowledge and a due judgment very natural and accountable to the thoughts.

Here a footman came up to us, to let his miſtreſs know that dinner was on the table, and we immediately went in to an excellent one. The ladies were very civil to me, and exerted a good humour to ſhew me, I ſuppoſe, that my arrival was not diſagreeable to them, tho' I tumbled upon their habitation, like the genie of the caverns, from the hollows of the mountains. They talked in an eaſy, rational manner, and aſked me many queſtions that ſhewed they were no ſtrangers to books and men and things: but at laſt it came to paſs, that the eldeſt of thoſe ladies, who acted as miſtreſs of the houſe, and ſeemed to be about one or two and twenty, deſired to know the name of the gentleman I was looking for among theſe hills, and called my friend. My reaſon, Sir, for aſking is, that you anſwer ſo exactly in face and perſon to a deſcription of a gentleman I heard not very [411]long ago, that I imagine it may be in my power to direct you right.

Madam, (I replied), the gentleman I am in ſearch of is Charles Turner, who was my ſchoolfellow, and my ſenior by a year in the univerſity, which he left two years before I did, and went from Dublin to the north of England, to inherit a paternal eſtate on the deceaſe of his father. There was an uncommon friendſhip between this excellent young man and me, and he made me promiſe him, in a ſolemn manner, to call upon him as ſoon as it was in my power; aſſuring me at the ſame time, that if by any changes and chances in this lower hemiſphere, I was ever brought into any perplexities, and he alive, I ſhould be welcome to him and what he had, and ſhare in his happineſs in this world, while I pleaſed. This is the man I want: a man, for his years, one of the wiſeſt and beſt of the race. His honeſt heart had no deſign in words. He ever ſpoke what he meant, and therefore, I am ſure he is my friend

To this the lady anſwered, Sir, ſince Charles Turner is the man you want, your enquiry is at an end, for you are now at his houſe; and I, who am his ſiſter, bid you welcome to Skelſmore-Vale in his name. He has been for a year and a half laſt paſt in Italy, and a little before he went, gave me ſuch a deſcription of you as enabled me to [412]gueſs who you were after I had looked a while at you, and he added to his deſcription a requeſt to me, that if you ſhould chance to call here, while I happened to be in the country, that I would receive you, as if you were himſelf; and when I removed, if I could not, or did not chuſe to ſtay longer in the country, that I would make you an offer of the houſe, and give you up all the keys of it, to make uſe of it and his ſervants, and the beſt things the place affords, till his return; which is to be, he ſays, in leſs than a year. Now, Sir, in regard to my brother and his friend, I not only offer you what he deſired I ſhould, but I will ſtay a month here longer than I intended; for this lady, (my couſin, Martha Jacquelot) and I, had determined to go to Scarborough next week, and from thence to London: nor is this all: as I know I ſhall the more oblige my brother the civiller I am to you, I will, when the Scarborough ſeaſon is over, if you chuſe to ſpend the winter here, come back to Skelſmore-Vale, and ſtay till Mr. Turner returns.

This diſcourſe aſtoniſhed me to the laſt degree — to hear that I was at my friend Turner's houſe, — he abroad, and to be ſo for another year: the poſſeſſion of his ſeat offered me; and his charming ſiſter ſo very civil and good, as to aſſure me ſhe would [413]return from the Spaw, and ſtay with me till her brother came home: theſe were things ſo unexpected and extraordinary, that I was for ſome time ſilent, and at a loſs what to ſay. I pauſed for ſome minutes, with my eyes faſtened on this beauty, and then ſaid — Miſs Turner, the account you have given of your brother, and the information that I am now at his houſe — his friendly offers to me by you, and your prodigious civility, in reſolving to return from Scarborough, to ſtay with me here till your brother arrives, are things ſo ſtrange, ſo uncommon, and exceedingly generous and kind, that I am quite amazed at what I hear, and want words to expreſs my obligations, and the grateful ſenſe I have of ſuch favors. Accept my thanks, and be aſſured, that while I live, I ſhall properly remember the civility and benevolence of this day; and be ever ready, if occaſion offered, and the fates ſhould put it in my power, to make a due return. Your offer, madam, in particular, is ſo high an honour done me, and ſhews a ſpirit ſo humane, as I told you I was an unfortunate one, that I ſhall ever think of it with pleaſure, and mention it as a rare inſtance of female worth: but as to accepting theſe moſt kind offers, I cannot do it. Since Mr. Turner is from home, I will go and viſit another friend I have in this country, to whom I [414]ſhall be welcome, I believe, till your brother returns. To live by myſelf here at my friend's expence, would not be right, nor agreeable to me: and as to confining you, madam, in ſtaying with me, I would not do it for the world. Sir, (Miſs Turner replied) in reſpect of my ſtaying here, it will be no confinement to me, I aſſure you. My heart is not ſet upon going to London. It was only want of company made Miſs Jacquelot and me think of it, and if you will ſtay with us, we will not even go to Scarborough this ſeaſon. — This was goodneſs indeed: but againſt ſtaying longer than two or three days, I had many good reaſons that made it neceſſary for me to depart: beſide the unreaſonableneſs of my being an expence to Mr. Turner in his abſence, or confining his ſiſter to the country; there was Orton-Lodge, where I had left O Fin, my lad, at work, to which I could not avoid going again: and there was Miſs Melmoth, on whom I had promiſed to wait, and did intend to aſk her if ſhe would give me her hand, as I liked her and her circumſtances, and fanſied ſhe would live with me in any retreat I pleaſed to name; which was a thing that would be moſt pleaſing to my mind. It is true, if Charles Turner had come home, while I ſtayed at his houſe, it was poſſible I might have got his ſiſter, who was a very great [415]fortune: but this was an uncertainty however, and in his abſence, I could not in honour make my addreſſes to her: if it ſhould be againſt his mind, it would be acting a falſe part, while I was eating his bread: Miſs Turner to be ſure had fifty thouſand pounds at her own diſpoſal, and ſo far as I could judge of her mind, during the three days that I ſtayed with her at Skelſmore-Vale, I had ſome reaſon to imagine her heart might be gained: but for a man worth nothing to do this, in her brother's houſe, without his leave, was a part I could not act, tho' by miſſing her I had been brought to beg my bread. Three days then only I could be prevailed on to ſtay, and the time indeed was happily ſpent.

Miſs Turner's character. Miſs Turner was good-humoured, ſenſible, and diſcreet, as one could wiſh a woman to be, talked pleaſantly upon common ſubjects, and was well acquainted with the three nobleſt branches of polite learning, antiquity, hiſtory, and geography. It was a fine entertainment to hear her. She likewiſe underſtood muſick, and ſung, and played well on the ſmall harpſichord: but her moral character was what ſhed the brighteſt luſtre on her ſoul. Her thoughts and words were ever employed in promoting God's glory, her neighbour's benefit, and her own true welfare; and her hand very often, in giving [416]to the poor. One third of her fine income ſhe devoted to the miſerable, and was in every reſpect ſo charitable, that ſhe never indulged the leaſt intemperance in ſpeaking. She deteſted that calumny and reproach which aſſaſſinates a credit, as much as ſhe abhorred the ſhedding a man's blood. The goodneſs of her heart was great indeed: the integrity of her life was glorious. She was perfection, ſo far as the thing is conſiſtent with the nature and ſtate of man here—as it was poſſible for a mortal to be exempt from blame in life, and blemiſh of ſoul. An abſolute exemption from faults cannot be the condition of any one in this world: But (to the ladies I now ſpeak), you may, like miſs Turner, be eminently good, if you will do your beſt to be perfect in ſuch a kind and degree as human frailty doth admit.

81. Miſs Jacquelot's character.

Miſs Jacquelot was by the head lower than miſs Turner, and her hair the very reverſe of my friend's ſiſter, that is, black as the raven: but ſhe had a moſt charming little perſon, and a mind adorned with the fineſt qualifications. Reaſon never loſt the command in her, nor ceaſed to have an influence upon whatever ſhe did. It ſecured her mind from being ever diſcompoſed, and diſengaged her life from the inconveniencies which a diſregard to reaſon expoſes us to [417]By a management it dictated, ſhe enjoyed perpetual innocence and peace. She never uttered a word that intrenched upon piety, infringed charity, or diſturbed the happineſs of any one, nor at any time ſhewed the leaſt ſign of a vain and light ſpirit: yet ſhe had a ſportfulneſs of wit and fancy that was delightful, when ſhe could handſomely and innocently uſe it, and loved to exert the ſallies of wit in a lepid way, when they had no tendency to defile or diſcompoſe her mind, to wrong or harm the hearer, or her neighbour, or to violate any of the grand duties incumbent on us; piety, charity, juſtice, and ſobriety. Every thing that reaſon made unfit to be expreſſed, in relation to theſe virtues, ſhe always carefully avoided; but otherwiſe, ſuch things excepted, would enliven and inſtruct by good ſenſe in jocular expreſſion, in a way the moſt charming and pleaſing. She was very wiſe, agreeable and happy. She was very good and worthy.

This young lady was a great maſter on the fiddle, and very knowing in connoiſſance. She painted well, and talked in an aſtoniſhing manner, for a woman, and for her years, of pictures, ſculpture, and medals. She was indeed a fine creature in ſoul and body.

82. My departure from Skelſmore-Vale.

[418]

With theſe ladies I ſpent three days in Skelſmore-Vale; and the time we talked, walked, played, and laughed away. Sometimes we rambled about the hills, and low adown the dales. Sometimes we ſat to ſerious ombre; and often went to muſick by the falling-ſtreams. Miſs Turner ſung; miſs Jacquelot played the fiddle: and on my German flute I breathed the ſofteſt airs. We were a happy three, and parted with regret on every ſide. Fain would they have had me ſtay, and Scarborough and London ſhould be thought of no more: but the reaſon of things was againſt it, and the 28th day of June I took my leave. Through the mountain I had deſcended, I went up again to Tim and my horſes; who were ſtabled in the mouth of the cavern above, and had got provender from the vale below.

83. A morning reflexion on the riſing ſun, and the Great Spirit who created it.

The ſun was riſing as we mounted the horſes, and ſtruck me ſo powerfully with the ſurpaſſing ſplendor and majeſty of its appearance, ſo cheared me by the gladſome influences, and intimate refreſhment of its all-enlivening beams, that I was contriving as I rid on an apology for the firſt adorers of the ſolar orb, and imagined they intended nothing more than the worſhip of the tranſcendent majeſty of the inviſible Creator, [419]under the ſymbol of his moſt excellent and nearly reſembling creature; and this according to ſome imperfect tradition, that man, as a compound Being, had, in the beginning, a viſible glorious preſence of Jehovah Elohim — a viſible exhibition of a more diſtinguiſhed preſence by an inexpreſſible brightneſs or glory: this is ſome excuſe for the firſt worſhippers of the ſolar orb: and when the thing conſecrated to the imagery and repreſentation of its Maker, became the rival of his honours, and from being a help to devotion, was advanced into the ſupreme object of it; yet conſidering the prodigious glory of this moving orb, and that all animated nature depends upon its auſpicious preſence, we cannot wonder that the Egyptian ruraliſts, without a creed, and without a philoſophy, ſhould be tempted to ſome warmer emotion than a merely ſpeculative admiration, and inclined to ſomething of immediate devotion. That univerſal chorus of joy that is manifeſted at the illuſtrious ſolemnities of opening ſun-ſhine, might tempt the weak to join in a ſeemingly-religious acclamation. At leaſt I am ſure there is much more to be ſaid for this ſpecies of idolatry, than for the papiſts worſhipping dead men, ſtocks, bones, and clouts. They have not only revelation expreſsly againſt them — Thou ſhalt worſhip the Lord thy God, and him [420]only ſhalt thou ſerve. (Matt. iv, 10.) — Neither ſhalt thou ſet up any image or pillar. (Deut. xvi. 22.) But downright reaſon demonſtrates that the things are uſeleſs to the preſervers, and offenſive to God: whereas, on the contrary, when the eye beholds that glorious and important luminary of heaven, and conſiders the benefits diſpenſed to mankind by the means of its moſt beautiful and invigorating beams, it might ſtrike not only an unpractiſed thinker, and cauſe the vulgar, (who are not able of themſelves to raiſe their thoughts above their ſenſes, and frame a notion of an inviſible Deity), to acknowledge the bleſſings they received, by a devotion to this fanſied viſible exhibition of divinity: but even ſome of the wiſe ones who were a degree above the abſurdity of popular thinking, might be led to addreſs themſelves to the golden ſun, in ſplendor likeſt heaven. They might aſcribe the origin of their own exiſtence, and the world's, to this ſeemingly adequate cauſe, and genial power of the ſyſtem; when they beheld him returning again in the eaſt, (as I now ſee him) after the gloom and ſadneſs of the night; again the reſtorer of light and comfort, and the renewer of the world; regent of the day, and all th'horizon round, inveſted with bright rays; that all inferior nature, the earth's own form, and the ſupports of its animated inhabitants, [421]ſeem to depend on his diſpenſing authority, and to be the effects of his prolific virtue, and ſecret operation: they might ſuppoſe, in the corruption of tradition, or when the reveled truth and direction was loſt, and reaſon not as now in its maturity of age and obſervation, that ſome kind of glory ſhould be given to the ſubordinate divinity (as they fanſied) of this heavenly body, and that ſome homage was due to the fountain of ſo much warmth and beneficence. This (I imagine) may account for the earlieſt kind of idolatry; the worſhip paid to the ſun. The effects of his preſence are ſo great, and his ſplendour ſo overpowering and aſtoniſhing, that veneration and gratitude united, might ſeduce thoſe ignorant mortals to deify ſo glorious an object. When they had loſt the guard of traditionary revelation (39) , [422]and wanted thoſe helps to judgment which are derived from the experience, obſervation, and reaſoning of paſt times, the ſpecious [423]idolatry might have been introduced, and ſomething tolerably plauſible perhaps was pleaded by the better heads of thoſe times. [424]Excluſive of an imperfect notion of the Deity's appearing by Shechinah, and that the ſun might be the viſible exhibition (as [425]obſerved); they might, in the next place, conclude from the extraordinary motion of the luminary, that he was an animated being, and noble intelligence, placed in the higheſt poſt of honor and uſefulneſs, and employed by God as his firſt miniſter and ſervant; for which reaſon, they thought it their duty to magnify and venerate the ſun, whom the Creator had exalted ſo high; as the chief miniſters of kings are had in honor, which is reflected back on their royal maſters. Thus might the novel impiety come on. They might, in the beginning, worſhip [426]the ſun as the Shechinah, appearing by a glorious light, or in a celeſtial train attending the preſence, which, at ſo great a diſtance, muſt appear in an indiſtinct, luminous viſion; but more generally, as the miniſter of God; an animated being, who had a principle of conſciouſneſs put into it; as the human body has, ſeated in it, a human ſoul; and that this glorious creature was enabled to perform the etherial journeys by its own underſtanding and will, and to make all lower nature happy by his benign and diffuſive influence; could ſee as far as he is ſeen, and every way was fitted for the noble work he had to execute. Thus did the ſun commence a God. He muſt, (they thought) from every appearance, in his wondrous, uſeful courſe, have the moſt exalted powers; be wiſe and benevolent, great and good. And when the worſhip of this luminary was once eſtabliſhed, it could not be long before the moon was deified: and then the ſtars became conſervators of the univerſe. From thence idolatry went on, and added to the heavenly bodies the emblematic doctrine, and animal apotheoſis. Artificial fire was conſecrated, and made the ſymbol of ſidereal ſplendors. Deity was exhibited to the multitude in the forms of its effects, and innumerable orders of inferior divinities by degrees ſprang up. Succeſſive enlargements of the ſyſtem [427]of natural apotheoſis prevailed; and, at laſt, the world, which ought only to have been regarded, as the magnificent theatre of divine perfections, was itſelf blaſphemouſly adored, as the independent proprietor of them.

It is evident from hence that a reveled rule was wanting, or man had need of phyſics, to ſuppreſs the riſing tranſports of a too eager gratitude, and guard againſt the inclination to worſhip this riſing, lucid being, now ſo glorious before me; whoſe motion is ſo ſteady and uniform, ſwift, regular, and uſeful, that it ſeems to manifeſt itſelf a wiſe and intelligent being. Without the lights of philoſophers, or the ſupernatural aſſiſtance of religion, it was hard for recent and wondering mortals, to refrain from worſhiping that beautiful body, as they ſaw it proceeded with the greateſt harmony, and ſhed innumerable bleſſings on them. But pure reveled religion diffuſes ſuch a light as manifeſts the error: and a correct and philoſophic reaſoning, (in this improved age the ſafe guide, and proper arbitrator of religion) not only refuſes to addreſs itſelf to that God of the antient popular theology, but proves the worſhip impious and abſurd.

Right reaſon and revelation demonſtrate from the matchleſs graces and glories of nature, which occur in great variety, and without [428]number, wherever we turn our eyes, that there is a Creator of infinite power, wiſdom, and goodneſs; who beautifully provides for the uſes and occaſions of human life, and produces repeated millions of objects that bear the ſtamp of omnipotence, and remain perpetual monuments of the divine benevolence. Manifold are thy works, O Lord; in wiſdom haſt thou made them all!

And eſpecially, when from the earth I lift up my eyes to the heavens, and behold among the wonders of the firmament, that vaſt and magnificent orb, the ſun now riſing before me, brightning by degrees the horizon, and pouring the whole flood of day upon us; the wonderful and grand ſcene ſtrikes powerfully on my mind, and cauſes an awful impreſſion. With ſentiments of the greateſt admiration, I conſider the illuſtrious object, and feel the kindly heat of that bright luminary, inſpiring me with more than uſual gladneſs. And what power is it that ſupplies this fountain of light and heat, with his genial and inexhauſted treaſure — who diſpenſes it with ſuch munificent, yet wiſe profuſion? It muſt be ſome Almighty Being. It muſt be the work of the Deity, that is, the powerful, wiſe, and good Parent of mankind, the Maker, Preſerver, and Ruler of the world; for his perfections are ſtampt upon the work. The [429]evidence of reaſon declares it. Chance or neceſſity cannot form or guide. An active underſtanding only, and intending cauſe, can produce, and direct: and this cauſe, muſt be all-ruling wiſdom, and unlimited power, in conjunction with the moſt amiable goodneſs. This is plain to a thorough and rational examination. A ſupreme Being, an eternal ſelf-exiſtent mind, who comprehends and preſides over all, muſt impart the benefits of that glorious creature before me, uſing it as an inanimate, unconſcious, inſtrument of conveying light, heat, and prolific influences to the earth; which, by infinite power, is rendered as much active in ſending the vegete juices through the veſſels of all plants, as the ſun is in diffuſing its rays upon the ſurface of the globe we inhabit. The ſun, and moon, and ſtars, are but inſtruments in his hand, for bringing about mechanically whatever good effects he has created them to produce. Our holy religion and philoſophic reaſoning evince this truth. This glorious ſun bears the ſignatures of its author, and the finger of God is diſcernible every where. The wiſdom and loving-kindneſs of the Lord are viſible, whatever way we turn. His bounty appears by its conſtant, yet voluntary communication, and is the more to be admired as it is a never-failing principle. This riſing luminary that viſits our earth, is, [430]in particular, a daily freſh inſtance of the divine favor; and did not God's goodneſs only, prevent its ſuſpenſion, we ſhould be involved in the utmoſt horror, nay, inevitable ruin: and when, in the evening it leaves us overſpread by the darkneſs, to viſit others with its benign influences; the change is charming, for night gives man a neceſſary vacation from the labours of the day. In ſleep he takes the ſweeteſt refreſhment, till this riſing ſun, by the beneficent direction of its great Author, again appears in grace and ſplendor, and diſplays the face of nature in unſpeakable beauties. Every where the bounty of the ſupreme Spirit I ſee diffuſed; through air, through earth, and in the waters. No place is without witneſſes of his liberality; and life is the care of his providence.

Of him then ſhould our ſongs be, and our talking of all his wonderful works. We ſhould join in adoring him, and acknowledge him worthy to receive glory and honour and power, who has created all things, and for his pleaſure they are and were created. And it follows, that we ſhould likewiſe abſolutely ſubmit to this ſovereign Being, and ever reſign ourſelves to his direction and diſpoſal. Where can ignorance and impotence find ſo ſafe and ſure a refuge as in infinite wiſdom, and almighty power?

84. A delightful landſcape betwixt the mountains.

[431]

In this manner were my thoughts employed, as we rid over the brows of many high hills, with the riſing ſun before me, till we deſcended to a narrow wet bottom, which trended due weſt for an hour, and brought us to the foot of another high mountain. This we aſcended with the horſes as far as it was poſſible to bring them, and from thence I climbed up to the top, by a ſteep craggy way, near 200 yards. This was very difficult and dangerous, but I had an enchanting proſpect, when I gained the ſummit of the hill. A valley near a mile in breadth appeared betwixt the oppoſite mountains, and that on which I ſtood; and a river was running through it, that ſpread ſometimes into little lakes, and ſometimes fell headlong from the rocks in ſounding caſcades. The fineſt meadows, and little thickets, bordered thoſe waters on every ſide, and beyond them the vaſt hills had a fine effect in the view: ſome were covered with foreſt; and ſome with precipitating ſtreams. I was charmed with this aſſemblage of the beauties of nature. It is a more delightful landſcape than art has been able to form in the fineſt gardens of the world.

85. A pretty country ſeat.

The deſcent was eaſy to this beautiful vale, and after I had feaſted my eyes with the proſpect of the place, I went down to ſee who lived in a houſe covered with creeping [432]greens, that ſtood by a ſonorous waterfall. Some wiſe one perhaps, (I ſaid) who ſcorns the character of the libertine, or the ſot, and to the purſuits of avarice and ambition leaves the world; to enjoy in this fine retreat the true happineſs of man; by embracing that wiſdom which is from above, and aſpiring to an equality with ſaints and angels: happy man! if ſuch a man be here. Or, it may be, ſome happy pair poſſeſs this charming ſpot of earth, and in diſcharging all the duties of the matrimonial relation, enjoy that fulneſs of ſatisfactions and felicities, which the divine inſtitution was deſigned to produce. Happy pair indeed! if ſuch a pair be here.

86. A ſtrange meeting.

But when I came near the manſion, no human creature could I ſee, nor, for ſome time, could I find an entrance any way. The gate of the garden in which the houſe ſtood was faſt, and ſo was every window and door: but as the gardens were in fine order, and full of fruits, vegetables, and flowers, I knew it muſt be an inhabited place, tho' its people were from home. With my pole therefore I leaped a deep moat, which ſurrounded the garden, and for half an hour continued walking about it, pulling ſome things, and looking at others, in hopes that ſome one might be ſeen: no ſoul however appeared, and I was going to return to [433]my horſes, when, by accident, I came to a deſcent of ſtairs, that was planted round with ſhade of laurel, ever-green, and branching palm. Down I went immediately. I walked thro' a long arched paſſage, in which two lamps were burning, and at the end of it came to an open door, that admitted me into an entry which led to a flight of ſtairs. Should I go any farther, was the queſtion? If any one within, I might greatly offend: and if it was the habitation of rogues, I might find myſelf in a pound. What ſhall I do then? Go on, (ſays curioſity) and bravely finiſh the adventure.

Softly then I aſcended, liſtening, by the way, if I could hear any voice, and proceeded upwards, to the firſt floor. A door was there open, and on my tiptoes I went to look in: but, all I could ſee was a room well furniſhed, and through it I paſſed to another, which was likewiſe full of fine things, and had a door unlocked, that opened into a large library. The books were all bound in vellum, in an extraordinary manner, the collection valuable, and moſt judiciouſly ordered. Mathematical inſtruments of all Sorts were on a table, and every thing looked as belonging to a ſcholar and man of fortune. Great was my amazement, as I ſaw no living creature. I knew not what to think of all theſe things: nor did my aſtoniſhment diminiſh, when I went from the [434]library into two very handſome bedchambers, and ſaw in one of them the apparel of a woman; in the other the dreſs of a man.

Muſing on theſe matters, and looking over the books, I continued near an hour, when I turned round to depart, and ſaw at the door of the library I was in, a gentleman, and two young ladies in riding-dreſſes, who ſeemed more than amazed at the ſight of me. The man's face I knew very well, and ſoon remembred he was one of the company that came over with me from Ireland in the Skinner and Jenkins, and a perſon I had thought a very odd man; for he never ſtirred out of his birth all the while he was on board, nor ſpoke a ſyllable to any one, except myſelf; and that only for a couple of hours after we landed; when he was pleaſed to ſingle me out, and requeſted we might dine together; to which I ſaid, with pleaſure, Sir, and he came with miſs Melmoth and me to our inn. With us he ſat for the time I have ſaid, and talked like a man of ſenſe and virtue. He was but three or four years older than I was, and yet ſo very grave, that in reſpect of temper, he was fit for the bench. He told me, he lived in too remote a place, ever to expect to ſee me in the country; but he had a houſe in London, where he was every winter, if not hindered by ſickneſs, and to a part of it I ſhould be welcome [435]if it was agreeable to me to improve our acquaintance. Many other civil things he ſaid, and ſhewed a regard for me that I little expected, and could not but wonder at. All this made me as well known to him as he was remembred by me; but he looked as it were ſcared at the ſight of me, in the place I now appeared in; where I ſtood leaning on my long pole (when he came to the cloſet door), and was reading out the following lines in a book I chanced to take into my hand; to which I added a few reflexions:

87. A paſſage I chanced to turn to in a Greek author.

[...] Eſt ut dicis. Vera praedicas, vir ſapiens. ‘Quae ad Deos ſpectant, pulcherrimum ſacrificium et cultum eſſe maximum ducito, ſi teipſum quam optimum et juſtiſſimum praebeas. [...]: Praebere ſe quam optimum ac juſtiſſimum, pluris apud Deos quam multae victimae. Sperandum eſt enim tales potius, quam qui victimas multas proſternunt, quidpiam boni a Diis immortalibus accepturos. Quam optimum cor ac juſtiſſimum ad aras feramus, & bonum a numine ſemper lucrabimus.’

[436]True, moſt excellent ſage. Rectitude and Benevolence are the perfection of rational nature, and when by philoſophy, we acquire a temper, diſpoſition and action, that are conformable to the truth of things, and continually diſplay ſtrict juſtice and univerſal charity, we offer the nobleſt ſacrifice to heaven, and are conſimilated with the Deity. By this divine affection, or order and goodneſs, we manifeſt a continual uſe and employment of ourſelves for the glory of the ſupreme virtue, and may by this means, expect to obtain the infinite mercy of God; when ſlaughtered Hecatombs are deſpiſed; and the creeds of incomprehenſible myſteries, and the external modes and forms of churchiſm, may be conſidered only as the weakneſs and blindneſs of reverend heads. Thouſands of rams, and ten thouſand rivers of oil; ſpeculative faith, rites and ceremonies, are nothing, abſtracted from that temper and affection, which unites us to the Deity, and to the whole ſyſtem of rationals. Virtue and charity is religion.

88. Mr. Berrisfort's kind reception of me.

This paſſage and reflexion pronounced very loud, with an enthuſiaſm that ſeizes me when I take a claſſic in my hand, added greatly to the aſtoniſhment of finding me in the cloſet, and for ſome time the gentleman was not able to ſpeak, or come forward; but [437]at laſt, moving towards me, as I did to him, the moment I ſaw him, he ſaid, by what ſtrange chance have I the favor of ſeeing you here? Inform me, I beſeech you, in the name of friendſhip, what ſurprizing accident has thrown you on this ſolitude; without horſe or ſervant — and how did you get over the broad moat of water, as the two garden gates were locked?

Mr. Berrisfort (I anſwered), you may well wonder at ſeeing me in this remote and ſilent part of the world, and eſpecially at my being in your ſtudy, without either horſe or attendant in waiting, that you could find, on coming home; but the thing was all natural, in the common courſe of events, as you ſhall hear.

Three weeks after you left me at Whitehaven, I ſet out from that place for Brugh under Stanemore, and went from thence up the northern mountains, in ſearch of a gentleman I had ſome buſineſs with, who lives but a few miles beyond you, and on my return from his houſe, as the road lay very high on the ſide of yonder vaſt hill, I quitted my horſe out of curioſity, to climb up to the top of the mountain, and ſee what kind of country lay on the other ſide of this long range of high hills. It was with great difficulty I got up to the pike, and few, perhaps, but myſelf, would attempt it: I was rewarded however by the [238]fine proſpect, and ſeeing the deſcent on this ſide eaſy, and a houſe and large gardens before me, I could not refrain from going down to the bottom. I marched on to take a view of the manſion and improvements, and as I ſaw ſome ver fine things in the gardens, and no ſign of any living creature; the gates ſhut, and every place to appearance faſtened, I leaped the moat with this pole, and after I had wandered about the ground, by accident came to the ſhady encloſure, in which I found the deſcending ſtairs from the garden; and ſeeing the lamps burning in the paſſage, could not avoid going down, and proceeded till I arrived at this fine library. My admiration was great, you may be ſure, and the books too ſtrong a temptation for me not to mind them. With great pleaſure I looked into many of them, and at laſt opened the Greek writer I was reading out, when you came to the door of your ſtudy. Such were the cauſes that brought me where you find me.

(Mr. Berrisfort replied): Sir, I am glad there was any thing in the force and operation of caſualties, that could bring you to my houſe, and I aſſure you upon my word, that you are moſt heartily welcome. As I lay in my cabbin on ſhip-board, I conceived a great regard for you, on account of many [439]things I heard you ſay, and particularly, for your lively arguments with Dr. Whaley, before the ſtorm began, in defence of the divine Unity, and againſt that miſerable theology which the monks have invented, and continue to ſupport, tho' it militates with the reveled truths of God, and the reaſon and fitneſs of things. I was greatly pleaſed with your different definitions of churchiſm and religion, and honoured you not a little for what you ſaid in oppoſition to unintelligible myſtery, and the glare of ceremony; at the ſame time, that you contended for the worſhip of the univerſal Father, and that ſober, righteous, and godly life, which ſprings from the love of truth, virtue, and moral rectitude. Once more then I aſſure you, Sir, I am moſt heartily glad to ſee you, and I ſhall take it as a great favour if you will paſs the ſummer with me in this wild country place. Every thing ſhall be made as agreeable as poſſible, and, excluſive of this cloſet of books, which you ſhall poſſeſs while you ſtay here, we will hunt, and ſet, and ſhoot, and enjoy all the pleaſures of the field: but in the mean time, as it is now ten o'clock, we ought to think of breakfaſt, and he deſired his ſiſter, a moſt charming creature, to call for it immediately, and I ſoon ſaw ſeveral ſervants bring in every thing that was elegant and excellent. He told me [440]I need be under no uneaſineſs about my mare and horſes, for there was a ſteep narrow way for them to come down to his ſtables, about half a mile from the place I left them, and he would immediately ſend one of his ſervants to bring them.

This was vaſtly civil and affectionate, and I told Mr. Berrisfort, that I was under great obligations to him for his goodneſs, which I ſhould ever have an extreme ſenſe of, but I was obliged to go on upon buſineſs: a few days however I would enjoy the happineſs he offered me, and we paſſed them in a very delightful manner.

89. Manner of living at Yeoverin-Green.

Early in the morning, we went out with the hounds, and for half a dozen hours, had the dogs in full cry before us. We had hawks and pointers in the afternoon, and enjoyed abroad all the ſports of the field. Within, when our labours were over, we had the moſt elegant dinners and ſuppers; every thing, of meat and drink, that the beſt taſte could deſire: and the converſation was excellent after the repaſts.

90. Characters of Mr. Berrisfort, his ſiſter, and Miſs Fox.

Mr. Berrisfort was a man of letters and breeding; and the ladies had ſenſe, and were no ſtrangers to the beſt Engliſh books. They underſtood no other language than their mother tongue, but the choiceſt authors of every kind that our country has produced, they had read with great care. [441]The maſter of Yeoverin-Green was a learned, worthy, polite man, free in diſcourſe (if he knew his company, and liked them, but otherwiſe quite mute,) and he was inſtructive in every thing he ſaid. His ſiſter and couſin were very good; diſcreet in their behaviour, temperate in their diſcourſe, and eaſy in their manner. They had no learning; they pretended to no criticiſm; but talked, without vanity, of the beſt things, and what they did ſay, they expreſſed in a moſt agreeable way. There was no being dull with ſuch people, in ſuch a place. I have ſeen very few young ladies in my time that I liked better than thoſe girls. They both charmed me with their perſons, their faces, their good manners, and their chat; but I could not enough admire Miſs Berrisfort for one particular, in which ſhe not only excelled Miſs Fox, but all the women that I have ever ſeen. This was in hunting. In the field, ſhe ſeemed the ſilver-ſhafted queen.

91. The daring ſpirit of Miſs Berrisfort in hunting.

Mr. Berrisfort and Miſs Fox followed the dogs with caution, and never attempted any thing that could hazard their necks or their bones: but the charming Juliet Berrisfort had ſo violent a paſſion for the diverſion of the field, that ſhe was ſeized with a kind of enthuſiaſm when ſhe heard the cry of the hounds, and as if ſhe had been the [442] goddeſs of the ſilver bow, or one of her immortal train, went on without a thought of her having brittle limbs. She leaped every thing to keep in with the dogs; five-bar gates; the moſt dangerous ditches and pales; and drove full-ſpeed down the ſteepeſt hills, if it was poſſible for a horſe to keep his feet on them. She frightened me the firſt morning I was out with her. She made my heart bounce a thouſand times. I expected every now and then that ſhe would break her neck; that neck where lillies grew. I was reckoned a very deſperate rider by all that knew me, and yet, with this young lady, I pauſed ſeveral times at ſome leaps, when ſhe did not heſitate at all. Over ſhe went, in a moment, without thinking of the perils in her way; and then, if I broke my neck, I could not but purſue.

When glory call'd, and beauty led the way,
What man could think of life, and poorly ſtay?

92. An account of two falls in the field.

It was not in my complexion to ſtay, and by that means, I got a terrible fall the ſecond day; whether by my own fault, or my horſe's, I cannot tell: but as no bone was broke, and I had received no other miſchief than a black eye, a bruiſe in my ſide, and a torn face, I was ſoon on my [443]mare again, and by Miſs Berrisfort's ſide. She laughed immoderately at me, while the dogs were at fault, as my bones were ſafe, and adviſed me with a humorous tenderneſs, to ride with her brother and Miſs Fox. It was not however very long before I had more ſatisfaction than I deſired; for in half an hour's time, we came to ſome pales, which the ſtag went over, and I leaped firſt; but Miſs Berrisfort's horſe, tho' one of the beſt in the world, unfortunately ſtruck, and cleared them in ſuch a manner, that the lovely Juliet came over his head. She fell very ſafely in high graſs, where I waited for her, for fear of an accident of any kind, and did not receive the leaſt hurt; but in the violence of the motion, and the way ſhe came down, the curtain was thrown on her breaſt, and ſhe lay for ſome moments ſtunn'd upon the ground. In a minute however I ſnatched her up, and ſet her on her feet. She came to herſelf immediately, and thanked me for my care of her; but was vexed to the heart at what had happened. She requeſted I would not mention the thing to her brother, or Miſs Fox, and hoped I would be ſo generous as not to ſpeak of it to any one. — Miſs Berrisfort (I ſaid) it is not in my ſoul to extract a mirth from the bad fortune of any one; and much leſs is it in my power to ridicule, or laugh at a woman of diſtinction, [444]for an accident like this. You may believe me, when I promiſe you, upon my word, and ſwear it by every ſacred thing, that I will not ſo much as hint it to any mortal while you remain in this world. This gave her ſome relief, and by her foot in my hands, I lifted her into her ſaddle again. — Two benefits were from this miſchance derived. One was, that for the future, this lady hunted with a little more caution, and did not take the leaps ſhe was wont to do: — the other, that it gained me her heart, (though I did not know it for many months), and thereby ſecured for me the greateſt happineſs, againſt a day of diſtreſs. From the moſt trivial things the moſt important do often ſpring: but I proceed.

93. A religious converſation between Bob Berrisfort and Jack Buncle.

Vexatious as the fall was to this young lady, it was I however that had all the pain, by the miſchief I received when my horſe threw me. My eye was in a ſad black way, my ſide troubled me, and the ſkin was off half my face: yet I did not much mind it, as the diverſion was good, and that immediately after the death of the ſtag, we haſtened back to an excellent dinner, and ſome flaſks of old generous wine; to which Bob Berrisfort and I ſat for two or three hours. The ladies had left us, to change their dreſs, and walk in the gardens, and we fell into very ſerious chat.

[445]I am thinking (Mr. Berrisfort ſaid, after a conſiderable pauſe, as we ſat ſmoaking a pipe over againſt each other), that the cauſe you gave Dr. Whaley, on ſhip-board, for the decay of chriſtianity, was the beſt I have heard. I remember you told this divine, that it was not a want of faith in the preſent generation that made ſo many renounce chriſtianity; for, the world were no enemies to a republication of the law of nature by the man Chriſt Jeſus; but the thing that makes infidels, and ſupports infidelity, is the extravagant doctrines which the theologers have obtruded upon the church, as eſſential parts of chriſtianity. Enthuſiaſm, abſurdity, and error, and the blind and bloody ſcenes of cruelty and ſuperſtition, have been the great ſtumbling-blocks to mankind, and given the moſt ſad, ſevere and laſting ſtabs, to the intereſts and ſucceſs of the pure and peaceable goſpel of Chriſt. This is juſt. But excluſive of this, may we not ſay, that there are ſo many ſeeming contradictions, and a multiplicity of obſcure paſſages in it, that it looks as if it could not be, in its preſent condition, a rule of faith: and that chriſtians differ ſo much about the meaning of the texts of their bible, that reaſon knows not what to ſay to a religion ſo variouſly repreſented. It is not only the two great camps, papiſt againſt proteſtant, and proteſtant [446]againſt papiſt, who make the religion as different as black and white: that the reformed miſſion at Malabar tell the Indians they muſt not hearken to the jeſuits, if they expect ſalvation; and the monks at Coromandel declare, on the contrary, to thoſe Indians, that they will be damned to eternity, if they are converted to what the Daniſh miniſters call chriſtianity; which made the famous bramin Padmanaba ſay, that it was impoſſible for him to become a chriſtian, till the learned chriſtian prieſts had agreed among themſelves what chriſtianity was; for he had not erudition and judgment enough to decide in the intricate controverſy: but, excluſive of this, proteſtants are ſo divided among themſelves, even the church of England againſt the church of England—diſſenters againſt diſſenters — and give ſuch different accounts of the reveled ſyſtem, that it requires more underſtanding, and ſtrict, ſerious enquiry, than the generality of people have, or can ſpare, to be able to determine in what party of the celebrated critics and expoſitors true religion is to be found: and when the controverſy is ſo dark and various, and the authorized profeſſors can never agree among themſelves, what can a man of a plain underſtanding ſay to it? This makes many (I imagine) turn from the ſcriptures to ſtudy nature, and the general laws which are eſtabliſhed [447]among the ſeveral gradations, ranks and claſſes of beings, ſo far as they are connected with intelligent, moral agency. In the natural, agreeable pages of that infinite volume, we ſee and perceive beauty and order, art, wiſdom, and goodneſs, and are thereby led to the Creator and Governor of the world, the univerſal cauſe, preſerver, and director of nature. We diſcover his providence, meaſures and benevolence, the rules and principles of eternal, immutable wiſdom and reaſon, and by them are compelled to confeſs a univerſal, intelligent Efficient; one infinite, eternal, omnipotent, wiſe, good Being, from whom all others derive, and on whom all others neceſſarily depend, and that continually. In ſhort, by ſtudying nature, we diſcover a God of truth, order and rectitude, and as we find perfect univerſal truth, and moral rectitude to be the higheſt perfection in the Deity, our reaſon informs us, that we ought to ſhew our love of God, by a love of theſe; and that a regular, uniform purſuit of them, muſt be the only true and rational purſuit of human happineſs. Here is a plain and good religion. Can we wonder then that many ſtudy and follow nature, and diſregard thoſe intereſted commentators, who, like oppoſite counſel at the bar, multiply and make void the law by different and contradictory pleadings on it? — Here Bob ended, and lit [448]his pipe again, while Jack laid his down, and went on in the following manner:

An apology for true chriſtianity. As chriſtianity was inſtituted by its great Author and Publiſher, for the benefit of mankind, it is to be lamented that the divines ſhould ſo differ, concerning what genuine reveled religion is, as to cauſe many to renounce this ſtanding and perpetual rule of faith and manners: but as to contradictions and inconſiſtencies in the apoſtle's writings, I have read them over ſeveral times, and never could find ſuch things in them. Obſcure paſſages there are a few at firſt ſight; but a little conſideration can explain them by other ſcriptures, if we do no, like ſome commentators, endeavour, by forced conſtructions, to adapt the ſenſe of them to a ſyſtem. This is what ruins chriſtianity. The monks ſhut out the light of reaſon, which is to explain ſcripture by ſcripture, and in the dark, fanſy a metaphyſical theology: They ſpeculate a tritheiſtic myſtery, original ſin, divine ſovereignty, election, reprobation, with many other pieties, and call the things revelation, which are, in reality, an artificial, invented corruption of the goſpel. The majority of the doctors inſiſt upon it that their reverend notions are reveled religion, and where they have a power, wattle the people into them: but men who will uſe the human underſtanding their Creator has given [449]them, and employ the reaſon of men in the choice of their religion, very eaſily perceive that unnatural repreſentation could never come down from heaven; and that whatever the declaimers on human nature may ſay in praiſe of their goſpel, it is impoſſible it ſhould be inſpiration, when the propoſitions rather merit laughter and contempt than the attention of rational creatures. This makes the Indians of any underſtanding flee chriſtianity. This cauſes men of ſenſe, in a free country, to declare againſt reveled religion. The principal offence muſt remain, while the majority of the clergy continue to blind the human underſtanding, and inſtead of couching the cataract, darken the ſouls of the people with a ſuffuſion of myſtery: to which I may add, and obſtinately refuſe to make uſe of unexceptionable, ſcriptural forms of expreſſion in divine public ſervice, though an alteration might be made without any poſſible danger or injury to the church, and continue to uſe in our liturgy unſcriptural phraſes, and metaphyſical notions, the imaginations of weak men. While this is done, the chriſtian religion muſt ſuffer, and of conſequence, the divines who contend for myſtery, and labour to deſtroy human reaſon and the powers thereof; to ſtifle and extinguiſh our common notions of things, and preclude all reaſoning whatſoever upon the [450]ſubject of religion; muſt have the blood of more ſouls to anſwer for, in the approaching day of calamity, than they now ſeem to imagine, while great preferments blind their underſtanding, and render them inſolent and poſitive. All this however has nothing to do with the true goſpel. If men would read the hiſtorical, and the argumentative parts of the ſacred writings with honeſty, and explain them as right reaſon and true criticiſm directs; if they would ſtudy them with that true zeal, which is guided by a good light in the head, and which conſiſts of good and innocent affections in the heart; and have at the ſame time a knowledge of the cuſtoms which prevailed, and the notions that were commonly received in thoſe diſtant ages and countries, they would find no inconſiſtencies and contradictions in the ſcriptures: even the difficulties would ſoon diſappear. The ſacred writings would appear to be what they are — a ſyſtem of religion that anſwers to all our wiſhes and deſires: — that requires of us that obedience to which as rational beings we are antecedently bound; and offers us rewards for obeying more than nature could ever claim. In the goſpel, we have the religion of nature in perfection, and with it a certainty of mercy and unutterable bleſſings: but in natural religion, as the reaſon and underſtanding of men can collect it, our hopes [451]of pardon and glory have but uncertain foundation. Without revelation, our hopes are liable to be diſturbed and ſhaken by frequent doubts and miſgivings of mind: but in reveled religion, that is, the moral law republiſhed by inſpired men, the promiſes of the goſpel take in all the wiſhes of nature, and eſtabliſh all her hopes. Bleſſed be God then for ſending his well-beloved Son into the world. From him we have a law that is holy, and the commandment holy, and juſt, and good: and by a dutiful ſubmiſſion to this plain and perfect law, (in which there is no myſtery, no inconſiſtency, no contradiction,) we are delivered from condemnation by the grace of God through Chriſt. Here is reaſon for adoring the divine goodneſs. The goſpel gives a better evidence for the truth and certainty of life and immortality than nature before had given, and thereby diſplays the love that God has for the children of men.

To this Mr. Berrisfort ſaid, that he thought my plea for original chriſtianity was good, and allowed it was not the goſpel that was faulty in myſtery and obſcurity, contradiction and inconſiſtency; but, human ignorance, and human vanity, which have loaded it with abſurdities, while they excluded reaſoning about it, and warped its fair and heavenly maxims to the intereſts of ſyſtems [452]and temporalities. However (Bob continued), you will allow, I believe, that the ſacred writers had not perpetually the aid of an unerring Spirit, and therefore are ſometimes inconſiſtent in their accounts: that as they were ſometimes deſtitute of divine aſſiſtance, they were liable to error when guided only by the human ſpirit, and did act like common men upon ſeveral occaſions. This ſeems to be evident from the relations, and the human ſentiments of the apoſtles. The evangeliſts ſpeak of the ſame facts differently; and in citing prophecy, while one adapts a fact to the letter of the prophecy, another accommodates the letter of the prophecy to the letter of the fact: I mean here, the aſs and colt in Matthew, and the colt only in John, and their citing Zechariah (ix. 9.) differently. And as to the other ſacred writers, does not the diſpute between Paul and Peter, ſhew a ſubjection, ſometimes, to ignorance and error? does not the quarrel between Barnabas and Paul let us ſee, that one of them was miſtaken, and both of them to be blamed? Tell me likewiſe, what you think of Mark and John's different accounts of the time of the crucifixion — and does not Matthew contradict Mark in his relation of the reſurrection of Jeſus?

Jack Buncle to this replied, that however ſome zealots may contend for the perpetual inſpiration [453]of the ſacred writers, yet he could not think ſuch doctrine neceſſary to the creed of a chriſtian: Jeſus only is called the truth, and was incapable of error. Chriſt only, in all his actions, was directed by a prophetic ſpirit. All other men, prophets and apoſtles, were ſometimes left to the guidance of their own ſpirit; and therefore all things which they have ſignified to us by their words or deeds, are not to be conſidered as divine oracles. Nec adeo omnia, quaecunque dictis ſignificarunt aut factis, ea pro divinis oraculis habenda. Nullus, excepto Domino, fuit unquam prpheta, qui omnia egerit ſpiritu prophetico. So Limborch, Dodwell, and Baxter ſay, and of the ſame opinion were Grotius and Eraſmus (40) They aſſert, that the apoſtles, [454]on ordinary occaſions, were ordinary men. All true chriſtian critics muſt allow this, and grant that, the univerſal inſpiration of the [455]ſacred penmen, is a notion founded in the prejudices of pious men and their miſtaken ſenſe of ſcripture. Such infallible authority [456]they think the beſt way to ſilence all objections, and weakly embrace the hypotheſis to advance the honour of religion.

[457]

But our allowing this, and that there are ſome diſagreements and variations in the evangeliſts, cannot hurt the goſpel. St. Paul [458]might reprove St. Peter, and ſpeak himſelf ſometimes after the manner of men; yet, we ſee where they had the divine aſſiſtance in [459]their explications, and the power of working miracles to confirm their doctrine; and there, as rational and thinking men, we muſt allow [460]the authority of the ſacred books: the few places that have the marks of weakneſs, only ſerve to convince us, that the divine writers [461] [462]of the books made not the leaſt pretenſion to perpetual inſpiration. In ſuo ſenſu abundat — aliquid humanae fragilitatis diſſentio habet: [463](ſays Jerome.) Human frailty and their own ſenſe honeſtly appear, when there was not an occaſion for infallibility and miracle. But whenever the preachers of the New Teſtament were wanted for the extraordinary purpoſes of divine providence, [464]they were made ſuperior to the infirmities of nature: their underſtandings were enlarged [465]and inlightened and an inſpired knowledge rendered them incapable of error. This, in my judgment, is ſo far from ruining the authority [266]of ſcipture, that it is the greateſt confirmation of its truth. It ſhews the honeſty of the preachers of the New Teſtament, [467]in owning they were only occaſionally inſpired: and when the incredulous ſee the ingenuous acknowledgment of what is human [468]in the inſpired writings, the truth of our religion muſt be more conſpicuous to their eyes: whereas the truths of the Teſtament [469]are hid from them, by making God the dictator of the whole; becauſe they think that impoſſible, and therefore conclude, the chriſtian religion has no better foundation. In ſhort, there is no reaſon to believe that the apoſtles were extraordinarily inſpired, when they ſay it not; and when their diſcourſes have in them no mark of ſuch like inſpiration. It is ſufficient, (ſays Le Clerc), if we believe that, no prophet of the New Teſtament has ſaid any thing in the name of God, or by his order, which God has not effectually ordered him to ſay; nor has undertaken to foretell any thing, which God [470]had not indeed truly reveled to him:— that every matter of fact related in the books is true, and the records, in general, the trueſt and moſt holy hiſtory that ever was publiſhed amongſt men, notwithſtanding the writers may be miſtaken in ſome ſlight circumſtances: — that all the doctrines propoſed are really and truly divine doctrines, and there is no ſort of reaſoning in the dogmatical places of the holy ſcriptures, that can lead us into error, or into the belief of any thing that is falſe, or contrary to piety:— that Jeſus Chriſt was abſolutely infallible, as well as free from all ſin, becauſe of the Godhead that was always united to him, and which perpetually inſpired him; inſomuch, that all he taught is as certain as if God himſelf had pronounced:— and in the laſt place, that God did often dictate to the apoſtles the very words which they ſhould uſe. Theſe five heads are enough to believe. We allow in theſe things the authority of the holy ſcriptures, and they who affirm more are deceived (41) .

[471]The caſe is the ſame as to differences, want of exactneſs, and ſmall miſtakes. We may juſtly celebrate the harmony or agreement [472]of the ſacred writers, with regard to the principal tranſactions by them mentioned, [473]as a ſtrong proof of the integrity of the evangeliſts, and of the certainty of the fact. This evinces the truth of chriſtianity: but in matters of very ſmall moment, we muſt allow a want of accuracy, or ſlips of memory, or different informations. This cannot hurt the authority of the goſpels, as it proves the honeſty of the writers by ſhewing they did not compoſe by compact: and I think, that ſome of the evangeliſts having been eye-witneſſes of, and [474]actors in the facts of the ſeveral goſpels; and others having written from the information of thoſe who had got a perfect information of all things from the very beginning, is an argument ſolid and rational for the credibility of the evangelical hiſtory. It is ſufficient. I am ſure it is better to allow this, than to ſay the writers of the four goſpels were mere organs, when the little omiſſions and inaccuracies obſervable in their records, cannot be accounted for, if we ſuppoſe that God conveyed the facts and truths through them, as pipes, to the world. It muſt needs be a perfect work, which the ſpirit of God directs.

No contradiction in St. Mark's and St. John's account of the crucifixion. As to St. Mark and St. John's accounts, I ſee no contradiction in the relations. St. John ſays, (reckoning as the Romans did, [475]as he was then in Aſia, and Jeruſalem deſtroyed) that at the ſixth hour, that is, ſix o'clock in the morning, he brought Jeſus out to them again, the laſt time, and ſtrove to mitigate the rage of the Jews, and ſave the life of Chriſt: but as this was what he could not do, he waſhed his hands before them all, to let them know he was not the author of the innocent man's death, and after that, delivered him up to the ſoldiers, to be crucified, when they had ſcourged him.

When all this was done, (ſays St. Mark, reckoning in the Jewiſh manner), it was the third hour, that is, nine o'clock in the morning, and they crucified him. This perfectly reconciles the two evangeliſts. There is no ſign of a contradiction in the places.

The teſtimony of St. Matthew and St Mark's accounts of the reſurrection of Jeſus. As to St. Matthew and St. Mark's accounts of the reſurrection of Jeſus, they are not ſo free from obſcurity, but I can ſee no inconſiſtency in them. If St. Matthew ſays, the Lord appeared to Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, that might be, without a contradiction, tho' St. Mark ſays, he appeared firſt to Mary Magdalene. The caſe to me appears to be this. Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and the other women, went with ſpices and ointments to embalm the body, Sunday the 28th of April, early in the morning, about ſix and [476]thirty hours after it had been laid in the ſepulchre, and when they arrived at the place, found not the body, but two angels, as young men in white apparel, who told them Jeſus of Nazareth was riſen to life again, as he himſelf foretold, and therefore they muſt make haſte to his apoſtles, to acquaint them with the news, and let them know that they would ſee him in Galilee, according to his prediction. With theſe joyful tidings the women haſtened away to the eleven diſciples, and related to them what they had heard and ſeen. The apoſtles looked upon this account as a dream or viſion; but however, on Mary Magdalene's aſſuring Peter and John apart, that ſhe had really been in the tomb, and found it empty; from whence it was moſt certain, that either Jeſus was riſen, or they had removed his body; theſe apoſtles ran both to the ſepulchre, and Mary Magdalene, went with them. Peter and John then ſaw, that it was as ſhe had affirmed, and after they had viewed the tomb, the clothes, and the napkin, returned from the ſepulchre, greatly wondering what was become of their maſter's body: but Mary continued at the monument, lamenting very greatly, that ſhe could not ſee Jeſus either alive or dead, and while ſhe thus bemoaned herſelf, the Lord appeared to her. As St. Mark ſays, Jeſus [477]appeared firſt to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had caſt out ſeven devils: and after ſhe had reverenced her dear Lord and Maſter, he bid her go immediately to his diſciples, and tell them ſhe had ſeen him: let them alſo know that I have aſſured thee, I ſhall quickly leave this world, and aſcend to the God and Father of us all, my Father and your Father, my God and your God, unto thoſe happy manſions where he manifeſts his preſence in a moſt eſpecial manner; there to receive full power over all things both in heaven and earth, and to prepare a place for you; that where I am, there ye may be alſo. Mary accordingly departed. She told the apoſtles that Jeſus had appeared to her, and acquainted them with the joyful meſſage.

As to the other women, it is evident that they likewiſe went a ſecond time to the ſepulchre, to look for the body of their maſter, and having in vain ſearched for it, were returning to the apoſtles, to let them know they had enquired to no purpoſe, when Jeſus himſelf met them, ſaying All hail. Does not this reconcile Mark's account with Matthew's? I think ſo. To me it is ſo very plain from what all the ſacred relators have declared of the matter, that I am aſtoniſhed how Jerom could be ſo perplexed with the [478]two accounts, as to ſay, that Mark's account, (the laſt twelve verſes of his goſpel) might be rejected here as ſpurious, becauſe it was found only in a few copies of that goſpel, and contradicted the other evangeliſts. Non recipimus Marci teſtimonium, quod in raris fertur evangeliis — praeſertim cum diverſa atque contraria evangeliſtis ceteris narrare videatur.

In the next place, if the account I have given was liable to any objection, and you could ſhew me that it was not the truth of the caſe; which, at preſent, I think impoſſible: If it was evident from the goſpels, that the women were not a ſecond time at the tomb, but that Jeſus appeared to Mary Magdalene and the other women, the firſt time they were all there together, yet this may be, as I apprehend, without Mark's contradicting Matthew. The meaning of the words of Mark — he appeared firſt to Mary Magdalene — might be, that as ſhe and the women were returning from the monument, to tell the news to the apoſtles, Jeſus appeared to them, and in particular, addreſſed himſelf to Mary Magdalene; directing his diſcourſe to her, and ſpeaking familiarly and affectionately to her, to diſtinguiſh her as his conſtant follower in his life-time, and one on whom he had worked a great miracle of healing. [479]This, I imagine, might very juſtly be termed — he appeared firſt to Mary Magdalene — To appear firſt to any one of a company, as I take it, is to come up to, or ſtand before ſome particular perſon, in order to ſpeak to ſuch perſon. This, in my imagination, removes the difficulty, and reconciles Mark to Matthew: but to this explication I prefer the women's being at ſecond times at the ſepulchre; that is, Mary Magdalene a ſecond time, when Peter and John went to the tomb, on what ſhe had earneſtly told them apart: and afterwards, the other Mary, Salome, Joanna, etc. a ſecond time. The goſpels, in my opinion, make this very plain (42.)

What has been ſaid, (Mr. Berrisfort told me), ſeems plauſible, nd ought to ſatisfy every honeſt man. It gives me content: but there is one thing ſtill that perplexes me, [480]and that is, the various lections of the New Teſtament. Do they not hurt the book?

No: (Jack Buncle replied), notwithſtanding the cry of infidels, and that ſome learned men of the church of Rome have endeavoured to ſhake the credit of the two teſtaments, and to bring the people to the papal chair, to know the truth, on account of the various readings; yet, nevertheleſs, they are rather an advantage and ſecurity to the ſacred text than a detriment to the written word. They corroborate the authority of the ſacred book, and give it additional advantages.

It is a truth that there are many various readings in Terence, Livy, Virgil, Caeſar, Thucydides, Homer, Plutarch, etc. and yet who denies the genuineneſs and great uſe of thoſe noble authors of ſenſe and politeneſs? who is ſo hardy as to queſtion whether the works univerſally aſcribed to them be their own and the product of thoſe immortal wits? On the contrary, men of thought and clear heads, converſant in thoſe ſtudies, will agree that thoſe authors of antiquity of which there are the moſt various readings, are rendered the moſt pure and correct. And why ſhould not the various readings of the bible rather lead men of ſound learning and judgment to the true meaning of the divine writers, than endanger their miſtaking their genuine language and ſenſe.

[481]Where there are ſeveral readings, it is highly probable one of them is the original; and it is eaſier by their help to rectify the miſtakes of ſome copies, for when we have only one manuſcript, there may be ſcope for fancy; but none for judicious compariſon and well-grounded criticiſm.

Style and language may be diſtinguiſhed by a happy genius of natural ſagacity, improved by true learning and proper application, as well as ſtatues, pictures, and medals. No age can counterfeit Cicero, Terence, St. Mark, St. John, St. Paul, no more than a counterfeit picture, medal, etc. can be impoſed on, and deceive the compleat maſters and judges of thoſe ingenious profeſſions and ſciences.

Secondly, there is nothing in the various lections that affects the eſſentials of religion, or can imply a conſiderable depravation of the copies, that alters or weakens one moral contained in the divine books. And therefore, though it cannot with reaſon be ſuppoſed, that God Almighty ſhould work perpetual miracles to prevent the miſtakes and blunders of every careleſs or corrupt hand, of thoſe numerous tranſcribers of thoſe ſacred volumes, no more than by a reſiſtleſs power and reſtraint to prevent all the errors and villanis committed by free and accountable creatures; yet the argument receives ſtrength, that notwithſtanding the innumerable [482]variations, miſtakes and contradictions in ſmall matters, the all-ſeeing eye of Providence has ſo watched his own bleſſed and glorious revelations to mankind, that all the tranſcripts of that divine volume agree in the eſſential doctrine and grand deſign of chriſtianity. This is a truth that Infidels and Papiſts cannot diſprove.

I obſerve in the laſt place, that excluſive of the care of Providence, there could not poſſibly happen any detriment to our ſacred records by various readings: for though in an innumerable number of copies of the goſpel that were made before printing was known, and in the many tranſlations of it into ſeveral languages, where the idioms are different, and the phraſe may be miſtaken, it was almoſt impoſſible there ſhould not be various lections, and ſlips of amanuenſes, yet the ſacred volumes in the early ages of chriſtianity, were diſpoſed into innumerable hands, tranſlated into ſo many languages, kept in ſo many libraries, churches, and in private families of believers, and ſo carefully preſerved and revered as the authentic deeds and charters of eternal happineſs, that they were not capable of being falſified.

Nor could thoſe ineſtimable copies, ſcattered as they were over the then diſcovered world, and in the noble language ſo univerſally known and acceptable, be liable to hazards, by ſudden revolutions and public diſaſters; [483]becauſe thoſe convulſions and ſurprizing calamities, could not happen alike in every country at one time.

Neither could a general corruption of manners, a ſpirit of profuſeneſs or ſuperſtition, nor the wicked example, and ſtrong influence of tyrannical princes, of an apoſtate clergy, and atheiſtical miniſters of ſtate, prevail over many diſtant and independant nations, to endeavour to corrupt and deſtroy their ſacred book.

On the contrary, we are to conſider that chriſtianity was the eccleſiaſtical law of all chriſtian nations under the ſun. The great law which aſſured to them their religious right and properties, their claims and titles to immortality, to the inheritance of the ſaints in light, an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, that fadeth not away, reſerved for them in the heavens. Which, to every one that deſerves the name of man and chriſtian muſt be infinitely more dear than titles to lands on this earth. For men are naturally more watchful in a matter ſo dear to them, and every believer would think himſelf concerned, no more to let a change of conſequence to paſs uncorrected, than the children of this world, who are wiſeſt in their generation, would overlook a flaw in deeds of ſale, or contract, which would aſſert their title, and evacuate the main intention of making ſuch indentures.

[484]The primitive chriſtians muſt be ſuppoſed to be exceeding watchful and jealous that no corruption or abuſes ſhould be put on that ſacred book, more dear and valuable to them than all other intereſts and treaſures. When theſe brave champions of the croſs were brought to the tribunals of the heathen perſecutors, and were commanded to deliver their bible to the flames, they moſt courageouſly refuſed it, and gave their bodies to be burnt rather than the divine book.

In ſhort, it is eaſier to ſuppoſe, a new bible or a new ſtatute book might be impoſed at this time of day upon this nation, without diſcovery, than to ſuppoſe a forged goſpel, a new teſtament corrupted ſo far as to be inſufficient for the good ends Providence deſigned by it, could be impoſed on the univerſal chriſtian world. It is eaſier to ſuppoſe that any forgery might creep into the municipal law of any particular nation, than that all the nations, whither chriſtianity is ſpread, ſhould conſpire in the corruption of the goſpel: which moſt ſacred inſtitution is to all chriſtians of infinitely greater concern and value than their temporal laws, and all the ſecular immunities and privileges which they ſecure to them.

And without ſuch a wicked conſert, or ſuch an aſtoniſhing careleſsneſs and negligence in all chriſtian people and nations ſuppoſed (which would be a monſtrous ſuppoſition) [485]No ſuch forgery, no ſuch alteration of eſſentials could paſs undiſcovered in the goſpel, which was ſpread in the hands, hearts, and memories of myriads of rational devout chriſtians of all ranks, qualities and ſex, was conſtantly read in private families, frequently explained in ſchools, and daily uſed in public divine offices. It was impoſſible then in the nature of things that there could be any ſuch alterations or corruptions introduced into the ſacred text as would affect its doctrines, morals, or truth of its hiſtorical relations, or defeat the bleſſed end and deſign of the goſpel revelation in any period of time, from the beginning of chriſtianity to this preſent age (43) .

And if from this unanſwerable way of reaſoning in defence of the genuine purity of [486]the ſacred ſcriptures, we look next upon the Providence of the Great God in this important caſe, is it not conſonant to ſound ſenſe, and the notions that rational creatures muſt have of the ſupreme and all-perfect Being, firmly to believe that the ſame goodneſs and providence, which took care for the writing, would likewiſe take care for preſerving theſe ineſtimable books, ſo free at leaſt from corruption, that they might be ſufficient for the gracious ends for which they were written, and be able to make us wiſe to ſalvation? I think ſo. To me it is evident, that ſince infinite goodneſs was pleaſed to reveal a religion, that teaches men to know Jehovah to be the true God, and to know Jeſus Chriſt, whom he hath ſent; his providence muſt not only preſerve the book on which the doctrine depends, but ſo ſecure it from corruption, as to render it a plain rule to mankind. While there is a providence, the holy ſcriptures will remain the ſacred and unalterable ſtandard of true religion.

What you ſay (Mr. Berrisfort replied) ſeems to me to be true. I have nothing to object. But once more — let me aſk you, in reſpect of the aſcenſion, which followed the reſurrection of Jeſus, is it not very ſtrange, that this is not mentioned by any of the apoſtles who are ſaid to have been eye-witneſſes of the fact, but Luke and Mark only are the relators of the thing, who were not apoſtles, [487]and had all they writ from the information of the apoſtles. If the apoſtles, Matthew and John, did really ſee with their eyes the Lord Jeſus taken up from them into heaven, might we not expect, that they would write the hiſtory of that ſtill more wonderful tranſaction, as well as they had ſo exactly related the reſurrection of Jeſus? for the men, who ſtood gazing up into heaven, after the Lord was carried up in a cloud (as Luke ſays they did) not to mention ſo very wonderful and intereſting an affair in their goſpels; — and men who did not ſee the thing, to relate it as part of the hiſtory they had received from the apoſtles; — this is what aſtoniſhes me. If it was a truth, ſurely ſo important a one ought not to be omitted by thoſe who ſaw it: ſince Matthew and John did write hiſtories of Chriſt, why ſhould they be ſilent on this grand article, and take no notice of it in their records? What do you ſay to this?

I will tell you, (I replied): in the firſt place, noſtrum non eſt providentiae divinae rationes reddere. Placuit ſpiritui ſancto ita dirigere calamos Matthaei et Joannis, ut narratione reſurrectionis dominicae evangelia ſua concluderent. (Sic refert Philippus a Limborch). — It does not become us to call Providence to account, or aſſign the ways it ought to act in: infinite wiſdom thought fit to appoint, that Matthew and John ſhould [488]end their goſpels with the relation of our Lord's reſurrection: the reſurrection demonſtrated the divine miſſion of Jeſus Chriſt. To it, as a proof the moſt valid, and unexceptionable, our Lord referred the Jews, and therefore, to it, as the great fundamental, Matthew and John appealed: they proved it by declaring that they had converſed with Jeſus Chriſt after he aroſe from the ſepulchre; and when that was proved, there could be no diſpute about any thing elſe. The divinity of the chriſtian religion, and the aſcenſion and glory of their Lord, reſt on this baſe. All the bleſſings likewiſe of the goſpel, regeneration, our reſurrection, and life eternal, are aſcribed by the apoſtles, Peter and Paul, to the reſurrection of Chriſt: and for theſe reaſons, to be ſure, when John had deſcribed his Lord's reſurrection, he added, — and many other ſigns truly did Jeſus in the preſence of his diſciples, which are not written in this book — But theſe are written, that ye might believe that Jeſus is the Chriſt, the Son of God, and that believing, ye might have life through his name. We muſt allow then, that the account of the aſcenſion by Luke and Mark, may be authentic, tho' not mentioned by Matthew and John.

In the next place, St. John is not totally ſilent as to the aſcenſion of our Lord. In his ſixth chapter, ver. 62. it is written — What and if ye ſhall ſee the Son of Man aſcend [489]up where he was before? and in the 7th chapter, ver. 39th. But this ſpake he of the Spirit, which they that believe in him ſhould receive. For the Holy Ghoſt was not yet given, becauſe that Jeſus was not yet glorified. Here moſt certainly the apoſtle ſpeaks of the aſcenſion of his Maſter, and tho' he did not write the hiſtory of it, yet, not obſcurely, ſays the thing was to be; which confirms the accounts of St. Luke and St. Mark. And ſince, in the 14th and 15th chapters of St. John, ver. 16.26. the apoſtle declares, that Jeſus foretold he would ſend to them, his diſciples, the Comforter or holy Spirit from the Father, after his aſcenſion to heaven; and that the apoſtles demonſtrated by miracles, after the death of their Lord, that they had received this Comforter or divine Spirit, it follows, that the aſcenſion and glorification of Jeſus is as much aſſerted and confirmed by the goſpel of St. John, as if that apoſtle, like Luke, had writ the hiſtory of it. This is evident to me. I think it is not poſſible to diſpute it.

The ſum of the whole is, that the prejudices of the pious, and the arts of the crafty and intereſted, have defaced the true goſpel of Chriſt, and ſubſtituted human notions and conſequences in the place of divine revelation: but let us ſtrip the ſacred records of the falſe gloſſes and ſyſtems, with which the theoriſts have covered it, and allow the [490]enemy, that the apoſtles, ſometimes wanting the unerring ſpirit of their Maſter, were liable to ſlight miſtakes, and inadvertencies, in the repreſentation of ordinary events; that they did, ſometimes, by too great an affection for their Maſter's doctrine, ſtrain ſome things, and cite prophecies that did not relate to Jeſus in any ſenſe at all (44) ; — [491]let this be done to remove incumbrances, to clear up difficulties, and to anſwer objections otherwiſe unanſwerable, and the writings of [492]the apoſtles will appear to be a globe of light from heaven; to irradiate the human underſtanding, and conduct the ſons of men [493]to the realms of bliſs. Their leſſons are the dictates of the Spirit of God: their ſanctions are of ſuch force, in a certainty of future judgment and retribution, [494]that they incline a rational to have a ſerious regard to them.

In a word, the religion of nature is perfect, but men are imperfect, and therefore [495]it pleaſed God to ſend our Saviour into the world, to republiſh the law of reaſon by his preaching, and in the writings of the apoſtles, and by him to give many motives to men, to incite them to perform their duty, as ſet forth in his written laws, and in the more ſtriking example of our Lord, his only-begotten Son. Let us be chriſtians then, my dear Bob, and adore the divine goodneſs, for the life eternal prepared for the righteous, as declared in the ſacred records. Let us hearken to the apoſtles, (who, knowing the terror of the Lord, perſuade men), and ſo govern and conduct ourſelves by the rules of revelation, that when the man Chriſt Jeſus, who appeared in the world to redeem us, will return to judge us by the goſpel, we may aſcend with him to the unbounded regions of eternal day, and in ever-blooming joys, live for ever in the preſence of God.— I have done. Where you think I am wrong, you will be pleaſed to ſay.

[496]My friend replied, that he had no objection to make: he was quite ſatisfied; and obliged to me for my advice. Thus ended the converſation between Bob Berrisfort and Jack Buncle.

94. 1725. July 3. My departure from Yeoverin-Green, and arrival at a ſhaking-bog, at the bottom of a mountain.

The 3d day of July, I left Yeoverin-Green, and ſet out again for Ulubrae, to get my horſes and portmanteau, but proceeded now on foot; becauſe, by climbing over a high mountain, which it was impoſſible for a horſe to aſcend, and then walking half a mile over a ſhaking-bog, where a beaſt could not go, I was to ſave many miles; and beſide, Mr. Berrisfort was ſo obliging as to ſend one of his ſervants back with Mr. Harcourt's horſes, which I knew not which way to return. With my pole in my hand then I ſet out, and after I had bid adieu to my friends, who walked with me a couple of miles to the foot of the hills, I bagan to mount the Alp at Six in the morning, and at eight arrived on its ſummit. Here I had a fine road, due ſouth, for an hour, till I came to a very ſteep deſcent, that led to the ſhaking-bog, as my paper of directions informed me. It was an ugly way down, and the better to go it, I reſolved firſt to breakfaſt, and bid Tim ſee what he had got in his wallet. Immediately he produced a roaſt fowl, a manchet, and a bottle of cyder, and among ſome trees, on the brow of a hill, by the [497]ſide of a ſpring, that ran off the Way I was to go, I ſat down to the repaſt. I gave my Lad half the Bird, and the other half I diſpatched in a very ſhort Time, drank a Pint of Cyder, and was on my Feet again. I then began to deſcend, and in an Hour made a Shift to get to the bottom, tho' the way was bad; being very ſteep, wet, and ſlippery. I came to a dirty lane, about two hundred yards long, and that ended at the ſhaking-bog.

95. The nature of a ſhaking bog.

This kind of bog I take to be an abyſs of ſtanding water, covered with a thin arch of earth, that is, a water communicating with the abyſs ſo covered, or weakly vaulted over: and of this opinion I find the right reverend Erich Pontoppidan is, in his natural hiſtory of Norway. The biſhop does not tell his reaſon for ſo thinking; but mine is, that I have ſeen in Ireland the arches of ſeveral of thoſe bogs broken, and a deep unfathomable water at ſome diſtance from the arch. They are very dangerous, frightful places, and many of them play up and down, like a long plank, in a very ſurprizing Manner.

96. We return from the bog to the Mountain, and arrive at a farmer's houſe.

To go half a Mile over ſuch a bog, and the moſt elaſtic of them I had ever tried, was what I did not much like; tho' the author of my paper of directions, an old ſervant of Mr. Berrisfort, affirmed it was quite ſafe; and as to Tim, he would not, [498]on any conſideration, croſs it. He was poſitive we ſhould ſink beyond Recovery. What to do then, was the queſtion? I tried for ſome Time to go round the bog, at the bottom of the encloſing mountains, but that was ſoon found impoſſible, and therefore, it only remained, to go up again to the top of the hill, and try onwards for ſome other deſcent beyond the bog. We did ſo, and after walking two hours ſouth-weſt, at a good rate, had a view of a deep glin, to which we deſcended by an eaſy ſlope, and marched thro' it, to the weſt, and north-weſt for two hours, till it ended at a wood. This we paſſed without any difficulty, as there were walks cut through it, and came out into a broad valley, that had a river very near us, and a ſweet pretty cottage on the margin of the flood. I went up to the houſe to aſk my way, and found at the door three men, the eldeſt of whom ſeemed to be about thirty years old. They aſked me very civilly to walk in, and ſeemed to wonder not a little at ſeeing me and my man, in ſuch a place, with our poles in our hands.

97. An account of Mr. Fleming, and his two brothers.

Theſe Men were three brothers, and Roman catholics. Two of them were gentlemen-farmers, who lived together, and jointly managed the country buſineſs. The eldeſt was a Franciſcan frier, who came to viſit them. Their good manners, in their plain dreſs, ſurprized me; and their benevolence, made me wonder a great deal more. Their maid [499]laid a clean cloth in a minute, and brought ſome cold roaſt beef, good bread, and fine ale. They bid me heartily welcome many times, and were ſo frank and generous, ſo chearful and gay; eſpecially the eldeſt of the farmers, who ſang ſeveral good ſongs over a bowl of punch after dinner, that I could not think of leaving them immediately, if I had known my road, and was eaſily prevailed on to ſtay ſeveral days. A friendſhip commenced immediately between the eldeſt Fleming and me, and there was not one cold or croſs minute in it for the few years that he lived. He loved me as his brother from the firſt day he ſaw me, and I had ſo great a regard for him, that with a ſorrow I cannot help, I think of his death to this day. How to account for ſuch ſudden paſſions I know not. The thing has always appeared to me very ſtrange. Mr. Fleming to be ſure was a man of a bright and very extraordinary underſtanding, though no more than a farmer in this world, had a moſt happy temper, a generoſity too great for his fortune, and was for ever chearful and free; but theſe things, however pleaſing, could not be the cauſe of the ſudden and laſting friendſhip between us, as I have been acquainted with men of fortune who equalled him in theſe reſpects, and yet they never ſtruck me more than for the preſent Time. Whatever might be the cauſe, the fact is [500]certain. No two men ever liked one another more than we did from the firſt hour of our acquaintance, and as I had the happineſs of converting him to the proteſtant religion, it is poſſible, that might cement a friendſhip, which, a ſameneſs of diſpoſition had helped to produce (44) . This is all I can ſay as to [501]the reaſon of this matter. In reſpect of the thing, it was of the greateſt ſervice to me. My new acquired friend aſſiſted me to the utmoſt of his power, in the accompliſhment [502]of my deſigns, in that part of the world I then was. I had his head, his hand, and his houſe at my ſervice, and by them I was enabled to give a roundneſs to a ſyſtem, that was too happy to laſt long.

98. My arrival at Ulubrae, and what paſſed there.

But as to the ſhaking bog I was to have paſſed to go to the gentlemen at Ulubrae, Fleming told me, I had a fortunate eſcape in not venturing over it; for, tho' it be paſſable in one narrow way, about a yard broad, yet a ſtranger to the bog muſt periſh in attempting to croſs; as the timber cauſeway that was made over the great marſh, time out of mind, is inviſible in many places, and one ſinks for ever, the moment he ſteps off that way: but I will ſhew you an eaſy road (my new friend continued) to the gentlemen's houſe, to whom I am no ſtranger, and will make you acquainted with ſome paſſes thro' the mountains, that will render it eaſier riding over this country than you have found it. He did ſo, and by his guidance I arrived at Ulubrae, the 7th day of July; being the 17th day from the morning I left the philoſophers. The gentlemen were ſtartled at the ſight of me, as they concluded I had periſhed, and had, as they aſſured me, [503]mourned my ſad fate: they were impatient to hear the adventure of the mountain, and by what ſtrange means, I was jumbled all the way to Tom Fleming's; who lives ſo far from the hill I went into; and the road from it to his houſe, ſcarce paſſable for a mortal. Inform us, we beſeech you, how theſe ſtrange things came to paſs.

Gentlemen, I ſaid, I am extremely obliged to you for your concern for me, and will tell you my ſtory as ſoon as we have dined, as the ſervants are now bringing the diſhes in, and accordingly, when we had done, I gave them a relation in detail. They were greatly pleaſed with my hiſtory, and much more, to have me returned to them in ſafety again. If they had not ſeen me, they ſaid, they could not believe the thing, and they would order the whole account to be entered in the journal of their ſociety, as the moſt extraordinary caſe they had ever known: or, perhaps, ſhould ever hear related again. Their ſecretary, as directed, writ it down in the big book of tranſactions, and it remains in their records to this day.— In ſhort, reader, theſe worthy men were ſo greatly rejoiced at my being alive, when they thought me for certain among the dead, that they put the bottle round in a feſtal manner after dinner. We drank and laughed till it was midnight.

99. My departure from Ulubrae to Eggleſton.

The 8th day of July, I took my [504]leave of the gentlemen at Ulubrae, and proceeded to the Eaſt-riding of Yorkſhire, to look for Miſs Melmoth. Fleming came with me as far as Eggleſton to ſhew me the paſſes between the hills, and the beſt ways over the mountains. Many vaſt high ones we croſſed, and travelled through very wonderful glins. Several ſcenes were as charming as any I had before ſeen, and the low ways as bad; but he knew all the roads and croſs turnings perfectly well, and ſhortned the journey a great many miles. I had told him the buſineſs I was going on, and he requeſted, if I ſucceeded, that I would bring Miſs Melmoth to his houſe, that his brother might marry us; and as to Orton-Lodge, which I had deſcribed to him, and told him where to find, (for he had no notion of it, nor had ever been among the fells of Weſtmoreland; as he thought that country unpaſſable), he promiſed me, he would go there himſelf, and bring with him two labouring men to aſſiſt my lad, in putting the garden and houſe in the beſt condition they were capable of receiving; that he would bring there ſeeds, and trees, ſuch as the ſeaſon allowed, and do every thing in his power, to render the place convenient and pleaſing: he would likewiſe ſell me a couple of his cows, a few ſheep, and other things, which I ſhould find before me at the lodge, and let me have one of his maids for my ſervant in [505]the houſe. This was good indeed. I could not wiſh for more

100. 1725, From Eggleſton I went to Mrs. Aſgil's to look for Miſs Melmoth; but ſhe was gone.

The 9th of July, early in the morning, Fleming and I parted, and I proceeded as faſt as well I could to the appointed ſtation: but when I came up to Mrs. Aſgill's door, the 2d day in the evening, July 10, and aſked for Miſs Melmoth, an old man, the only perſon in the houſe, told me, Mrs. Aſgill had been dead near a month, and Miſs Melmoth went from thence immediately after the funeral of her friend; that ſhe had left a letter with him for a gentleman that was to call upon her; but that letter by an accident was deſtroyed, and where the lady then was, he could not ſo much as gueſs: he farther told me, that Miſs Melmoth had ſold the goods of the houſe, and the ſtock, bequeathed to her by her deceaſed friend, to the gentleman who inherited the late Mrs. Aſgill's jointure, and ſhe would return no more to the place. This was news to me. It ſtruck me to the ſoul. Doleful tidings, how ye wound. What to do I could not tell, but as I rid to the next town, determined at laſt, to try if I could hear of her at York. To that city I went the next day, aſked at the inns, walked the walls, and went to the aſſembly-room. My enquiries were all in vain. One gentleman only did I ſee who was acquainted with her, and he knew nothing of her preſent abode. From York then I proceeded the next morning [506]to ſearch other towns, and left no place unexamined where I could think ſhe might be. Three weeks were ſpent in this manner, without hearing a ſyllable of her, and then I thought it was beſt to return to my lodge; for what ſignified my five hundred pounds to appear with in the world. It muſt be ſoon gone as I had not the leaſt notion of any kind of trade; and if I joined any one that was in buſineſs, I might be miſtaken in the man, and ſo cheated and undone. Then what could I do but carry a brown muſket, or go a hand before the maſt; for, as to being an uſher to a ſchool for bread, were I reduced to want, that was the life of all lives that I moſt abhorred. Nothing elſe then had I for it but my ſilent mountain-lodge, which kind providence had brought me to. There I reſolved to go, and in that charming ſolitude, peruſe alone the book of nature, till I could hear of ſome better way of ſpending my time.

101. By accident, I meet Miſs Melmoth.

To this purpoſe then I went the 2d of Auguſt, 1725, to Barnard's Caſtle in Durham, and intended the next morning to ſet out for Mr. Fleming's houſe in Stanemore, to go from thence to my cottage on the ſide of a Weſtmorland-Fell: but after I had rid a mile of the road to Eggleſton, where I purpoſed to dine, I called out to my lad to ſtop. A ſudden thought came into my head, to ride firſt to Gretabridge, as I was ſo near it, [507]to ſee ſome fine Roman monuments, that are in the neighbourhood of that village. To that place I went then, and paſſed the day in looking over all the antiquities and curioſities I could find there. I returned in the evening to my inn, and while a fowl was roaſting for my ſupper, ſtood leaning againſt the houſe-door, looking at ſeveral travellers that went by, and ſome that came to reſt where I did that night. Many figures I beheld, but none I knew. At laſt there came riding up to the inn, full ſpeed, a young lady on a moſt beautiful beaſt, and after her, two horſes more; on one of which was her man ſervant, and on the other her maid. She had a black maſk on her face, to ſave her from the duſt and ſun, and when ſhe lit from her horſe, ſhe id not take it off, but went with it on into the houſe, after ſhe had looked for a moment or two at me. This I thought very ſtrange. A charmer to be ſure, I ſaid. With what life and grace did ſhe come to the ground! but how cruel the dear little rogue is, to conceal the wonders of its face. Landlord, I ſaid to the maſter of the houſe, who was coming up to me, can you contrive a way to get me one view of that maſked lady, and I will give you a pint. — Sir, mine hoſt replied, that I can do very eaſily, for this lady has ſent me to let you know, ſhe wants to ſpeak with you — [508]with me! — Tranſporting news! I flew to her apartment, and there ſaw that dear irreſiſtable creature, who had added to the inferior charms of face and perſon, that wiſdom and goodneſs of conauct and converſation, which are the true glory of a woman. It was Miſs Melmoth. She had heard I had been at Mrs. Aſgill's houſe, and did not get the letter ſhe left for me; which made her think of riding towards Gretabridge, on an imagination ſhe might find me thereabout; as ſhe remembered to have heard me ſay, in one of our converſations, that I intended as ſoon as I could, to look at the Roman antiquities in this place: but ſhe had very little hopes (ſhe added) of ſucceeding in her enquiry; as little as I had of her riding up to the inn; and this made the meeting the more pleaſing. It did enhanſe the pleaſure indeed. It turned the amour into an adventure, and gave it that delicious flavor, which the moderns read of in the hiſtories of paſt times, but rarely experience in theſe days. The reader that has been engaged in ſuch a wonderful, and tender ſcene, can only form an idea of a felicity, which words would in vain attempt to expreſs.

As ſoon as we had ſupped, I recited my adventures ſince we parted, and gave Miſs Melmoth a flowery deſcription of Orton-Lodge; then aſked, if ſhe would bleſs me with her [509]hand, and ſit down with me in my pretty ſolitude.

Sir, (Miſs Melmoth replied), if you required it, I would go with you to Hudſon's-Bay, had I a hundred thouſand, inſtead of four thouſand pounds; which is my fortune, excluſive of ſome perſonal eſtate, which my friend Mrs. Aſgill by her will bequeathed me; and the whole is at your ſervice, to diſpoſe of as you pleaſe.

Give me thy hand then (I ſaid,) thou generous girl. You make me the happieſt of men, and in return I ſwear by that one, ſupreme, tremendous Power I adore, that I will be true and faithful to thee, till death diſſolves the ſacred obligation. Twice do I ſwear by the great Spirit, in whoſe dread preſence I am, with your right hand now locked faſt in mine, acroſs this table, and call on him as witneſs to our vows, that neither time, nor chance, nor aught but death's inevitable hand, ſhall e'er divide our loves. Miſs Melmoth ſaid, Amen.

102. 1725. Miſs Melmoth and I proceed to Orton-Lodge, and are married by Father Fleming.

Early the next morning, the third of Auguſt, we rid to Eggleſton, where we breakfaſted, and proceeded from thence to Mr. Fleming's houſe, up Stanemore hills, where we arrived at nine o'clock in the evening, and had beds there that night. My friend Tom and his brother Jemmy, were gone to a fair; but the eldeſt brother, [510]the Franciſcan fryer, was at home, and entertained us very well. We took him with us very early the next day to Orton-Lodge, which we reached at eight in the evening, and found the houſe and garden in good order. My friend, Mr. Fleming, had done every thing poſſible, to make it a convenient and comfortable place. He had made near the Lodge two little rooms for ſervants, and had put a bed in the green-houſe in the garden for a friend. He had likewiſe ſent there a couple of cows, ſome ſheep and lambs, ducks and geeſe, cocks and hens, and every neceſſary he thought we might want there. Good Tom Fleming. There never was a better man, or a kinder friend, to his ſmall power.

We had likewiſe fiſh in abundance, in the waters at the foot of our hills, and goats and kids, and plenty of wild fowl. Few things were wanting that reaſon could deſire; and for us, who thought that happineſs, that is, pleaſure and repoſe, did not precariouſly depend on what others think, or ſay, or do; but ſolidly conſiſted in what we ourſelves did feel, and reliſh, and enjoy, there could not be a more delightful ſtation diſcovered on this globe.

To conclude, the beſt things that Orton-Lodge afforded, were ordered to the fire, and before they were brought on the table, the [511]man of God threw the fillet or ribband over our hands, according to the Romiſh manner, and pronounced the nuptial benediction on us. Huſband and wife we ſat down to ſupper.

Thus did the ſtars preſide with friendly rays,
And bid me hail at laſt the happy days,
When ſheltered within this wild retreat,
Above the ſcorn, below the rage of fate;
Bleſt in a wife, a friend, and books, alone;
To this mad world, and all its plagues unknown;
The ſmooth-pac'd hours did ſweetly paſs away,
And happy nights ſtill clos'd each happy day.
FINIS.

Appendix A ADVERTISEMENT.

NEXT winter will be printed the ſecond volume of Mr. Buncle's life; containing his tranſactions and remarks in various parts of the world; — his voyage to the South ſeas; — and many wonderful changes and chances he met with in the ſpace of twenty years.

The Appendix, mentioned ſeveral times in the firſt volume, will be added to the ſecond, and contain the following pieces. — No. 1. Remarks on Lord Nottingham's letter to Mr. Whiſton; being an apology for the author's religious principles, which he gave in to his father. — No. 2. An anſwer to the Rev. Dr. Smith's third ſection of his book, called, A clear and comprehenſive view of the being, nature, and attributes of God.— No. 3. A reply to Miſs Harcourt's vindication of Athanaſian religion; which converted her from the general Apoſtacy to that pure goſpel theiſm, which preſerves the ſupreme majeſty of our heavenly Father, and denies an equal to the God over all Gods, the God and Father of our Lord Jeſus. — No. 4. A converſation with Father Fleming, a Franciſcan fryer, concerning the doctrines of the church of Rome; which converted his brother, Mr. Thomas Fleming, to the religion of proteſtants. — No. 5. A diſſertation on the antediluvians.

Notes
(1).

To the plain and ſatisfactory method of ſeeking for the faith in the ſacred books, there are many adverſaries and many objections raiſed. There are (ſays a great man) a very numerous body of Chriſtians who know no other guides but the living guides of the preſent church; and acknowledge no other faith, for the faith once delivered to the ſaints, but that which is now delivered to them by their preſent rulers, as ſuch.

To eſtabliſh this point, the greater part of theſe lay down the infallibility of the preſent church, and of every man of the paſt ages, through whoſe mouth, or by whoſe hands, the preſent traditions of faith have deſcended to them. And this, indeed, would be a very good method, if that ſingle proof of infallibility could be proved. But this is a point ſo groſs, and ſo utterly void of all proof, that a great body of the Chriſtian world, have broke looſe from the power of this monſter, and declared for the New Teſtament itſelf, as the only guide or rule of faith; the only deliverer of the faith to us of later ages.

When this comes however to be put in practice, too many of the ſame perſons who ſet the ſcriptures up as the only guide, turn round on a ſudden, and let us know that they mean by it, not theſe ſacred original writings themſelves, but the interpretations, or ſenſe, put upon them by our ſpiritual ſuperiors, to which we are bound to ſubmit, and put under an obligation [29] to find that to be the truth which is taught by theſe leaders.

But to this we reply with reaſon, that though we ought to pay a regard of ſerious attention to thoſe whoſe buſineſs it is to find out and diſpenſe the truth, and ſhew the reſpect of a due examination of what they affirm; yet we muſt not yield the ſubmiſſion due only to infallibility. It is our glory not to ſubmit to the voice of any man. We muſt reſerve that regard, for God, and for Chriſt, in matters of faith once delivered to the Saints.

Others, again, of the reformed, tell us, that the ſurer way of knowing what was delivered near eighteen hundred years ago, is to take the original faith from the Councils and Fathers, grave and good men, who met and writ for the ſettling of the faith. — And to this we anſwer, that theſe wiſe and good men cannot give ſo good an account of the faith contained in the original books as the books themſelves which contain it.

To give an example to the purpoſe. If we would know the doctrine of the Church of England at the reformation, it is not the writings of any particular divines, many years after that period, that we muſt conſult; or any aſſembly of them; but the authentic acts, and declarations, and ſermons, made and recorded at the time; for many of the doctrines thought eſſential at the reformation, have been ſince changed by gradual alterations; — by explainers uſing their own ſtile and manner of expreſſion, and introducing their own ſcheme of philoſophy, and judgment in commenting, into the ſcheme of doctrine to be explained. This produces great variation from what was once ſettled. What was once eſteemed fundamental is thereby altered. — Let this be applied to the firſt Chriſtian writers, after the Apoſtles were departed, [30] and as their language and philoſophy were various, and they differed from one another, great variations muſt creep into the doctrines delivered by them. It follows then, that nothing but what is recorded in the firſt original books themſelves can be firm and ſtable to us in points of faith. In the original books only we can find the faith, without that confuſion and darkneſs, which human explications and additions have brought in by way of light.

[28]
(2).

The captivity began at Nebuzaradan's taking and burning the city and temple of Jeruſalem, and ſending Zedekiah, the laſt King, in chains, to Nebuchadnezzar, who ordered his children to be butchered before his face, his eyes to be put out, and then thrown into a dungeon, where he died. This happened before our Lord 588 years; after the flood, 1766; of the world 3416.

(3).

Shinaar comprehends the plains of Chaldea or Babylonia in Aſia; and the men of Shinaar were the [] firſt colony that Noah ſent out from Ararat, the mountains of Armenia, where the Ark reſted after the flood, to ſettle in the grand plains of Babylonia, 1200 miles from Ararat. This was in the days of Peleg, 240 years after the flood, when the eight had encreaſed to ſixty thouſand; which made a remove of part of them neceſſary.

[41]
(4).

Longevity of the Antediluvians. The extraordinary longevity of the Antideluvians is accounted utterly incredible by many moderns; but it did not appear ſo unnatural to the early ages of Paganiſm. — Let no one (ſays Joſephus) upon comparing the lives of the antients with our lives, and with the few years which we now live, think that what we have ſaid of them is falſe. I have for witneſs to what I have ſaid, all thoſe who have written antiquities, both among the Greeks and Barbarians. For even Manetho, who wrote the Egyptian Hiſtory; and Beroſus, who collected the Chaldean Monuments; and Mochus and Hoſtiaeus; and beſides theſe, Hieronymus the Egyptian, and thoſe who compoſed the Phoenician hiſtory, agree to what I here ſay. Heſiod alſo, and Hecutaeus, and Hallanicus, and Acuſilaus; and beſides theſe, Ephorus and Nicolaus of Damaſcus, relate that the antients lived 1000 years.

The antient Latin authors likewiſe confirm the ſacred hiſtory in this branch: and Varro, in particular, made an enquiry, What the reaſon was that the antients lived a 1000 years.

See a continuation of this 4th note in the appendix.

(5).

I had once a ſweet little country houſe in the neighbourhood of thoſe ladies, and uſed to be often at their gardens and grottos. Mrs. Crafton had the fineſt ſhells, but her grott was dull and regular, and had no appearance of nature in the formation. She was a pious, plain, refined lady, but had not a fancy equal to the operation required in a ſhell-houſe.

The excellent, the polite, the well-bred, the good and unfortunate Mrs. O'Hara had a glorious fancy. She was a genius, and had an imagination that formed a grotto wild and charming as Calypſo's. Her fancy did likewiſe form the garden (in which the grotto ſtood, near the margin of a flood) into a paradiſe of delights. [47] Many a pleaſing, ſolitary hour, have I paſſed in this charming place; and all at laſt I ſaw in ruins; the garden in diſorder — and every fine ſhell torn from the grotto.

Such are the changes and chances of this firſt ſtate; changes wiſely deſigned by providence as warnings not to ſet up our reſt here: that we may turn our hearts from this world, and with all our might labour for that life which ſhall never periſh.

What ruined Mrs. O'Hara's grotto deprived me of my little green and ſhady retreat. Charles O'Hara, this lady's huſband, a ſtrange man, from whom I rented my pretty farm, and to whom I had paid a fine to lower the rent, had mortgaged it, unknown to me, to the famous Damer, and that powerful man ſwallowed all. All I had there was ſeized for arrears of intereſt due of Mr. O'Hara, and as I was ever liable to diſtraining, I took my leave of Fingall.

[46]
(6).

To this ſtammering or uncouth pronunciation of barbarous dialects the prophet Ezekiel refers, 36.3. Ye are made to come upon the lip of the tongues: that is, Ye are become a bye-word even in the heathen gabble, among the babling nations where ye are in captivity. —The author of Letter and Spirit ſays, the word barbarous, uſed in ſo many languages (with only their reſpective different determinations) for perſons of ſtrange or foreign tongues, is a monument of the great confuſion at Babel; this word being a corruption of the reduplicate Chaldee word Balbel, by changing the l in each place into r.—Some ſay, the word in the other languages, is derived from the Arabic Barbar, to murmur like ſome beaſt.—Scaliger defines it, Pronunciatio vitioſa & inſuavis, literaſque male exprimens, blaeſorum balborumque more: which was hitting upon the truth as to part of the original manner of the confuſion. Indeed Bloeſus and Balbus, in Latin, are both derived, in like manner from Bal, and, Balbel.—The Welſh has preſerved a noble word for this barbariſm of confuſed language in their compounded term Baldwridd; which is a plain compound of the Hebrew Bal, and Dahar; without any other deflection from the original Hebrew, than that of changing the b in the latter member of the word (Dabar) into the Welch w, a letter of the ſame organ. Moreover from their ſaid Baldwridd, and Das, we again derive our Balderdaſh; which therefore ſignifies ſtrictly—A heap of confuſed, or barbarous words like thoſe of the gabble of dialects, originally gendered at Babel. See Letter and Spirit (ch. 11.) by Mr. Holloway, a Hutchinſonian. It is very remarkable, that this learned gentleman ſays, he had been long of Hutchinſon's mind, as to a confuſion of confeſſions, and not of tongues; but on weighing the matter, is now of another opinion: p. 115. [64] Therefore, Hutchinſon not infallible: out for once: and, as Dr. Sharp well obſerves, this may be an earneſt of deſerting Hutchinſon in other points of his new hypotheſis. See Dr. Sharp's two diſcourſes on the Hebrew tongue and character againſt Mr. Holloway.—His two diſcourſes on Elohim, and defence.—And his three diſcourſes on Cherubim.—The Hutchinſonians lay the ſtreſs of their hypotheſis on the Biblical Hebrew, being the language of Adam in Paradiſe: And if this be taken from them, they are left in a poor way.

[31]
(7).

The great Samuel Bochart was born at Rouen in 1599, and died ſuddenly in the academy at Caen, Monday the 16th of May 1667, aged 68. He was the miniſter of the reformed church in that town. — His principal works are his Phaleg and Canaan; works that ſhew an amazing erudition, and ought to be well read by every gentleman: you ſhould likewiſe have his Hierozoïcon, or hiſtory of animals mentioned in the ſacred books. It is a good ſupplement to his ſcripture geography. His ſermons and diſſertations are alſo very valuable. Brieux writ the following fine epitaph on him:

Scilicet haec cuique eſt data ſors aequiſſima, talis
Ut ſit mors, qualis vita peracta fuit.
Muſarum in gremio teneris qui vixit ab annis.
Muſarum in gremio debuit ille mori.
(9).

The Reader will find this apology in the appendix to this life. By ſcripture and argument, without any regard to the notions of the fathers, I there endeavour to prove, that God the Father, the beginning and cauſe of all things, is One Being, infinite in ſuch a manner, that his infinity is an infinity of fulneſs as well as immenſity; and muſt be not only without limits, but alſo without diverſity, defect or interruption: and of conſequence, his Unity ſo true and real, that it will admit of no diverſity or diſtinction of perſons:— that as to the Lord Jeſus Chriſt, he was the ſervant choſen of this tremendous God, to redeem mankind; but his holy ſoul ſo far in perfection above Adam or any of his poſterity, and poſſeſſed ſo much a greater ſhare of the indwelling of the divine life and nature than any other creature, that he might, compared to us, with a juſt figure of ſpeech, be called God.

(10).

The Conniving-Houſe, (as the gentlemen of Trinity called it in my time, and long after) was a little public houſe, kept by Jack Macklean, about a quarter of a mile beyond Rings-end, on the top of the beach, within a few yards of the ſea. Here we uſed to have the fineſt fiſh at all times; and in the ſeaſon, green peas, and all the moſt excellent vegetables. The ale here was always extraordinary, and every thing the beſt; which, with its delightful ſituation, rendered it a delightful place of a ſummer's evening. Many a delightful evening have I paſſed in this pretty thatched [88] houſe with the famous Larrey Grogan, who played on the bag-pipes extreme well; dear Jack Lattin, matchleſs on the fiddle, and the moſt agreeable of companions; that ever charming young fellow, Jack Wall, the moſt worthy, the moſt ingenious, the moſt engaging of them, the ſon of councellor Maurice Wall; and many other delightful fellows; who went in the days of their youth to the ſhades of eternity. When I think of them and their evening ſongs — We will go to Johnny Macklean's — to try if his ale be good or not, etc. and that years and infirmities begin to oppreſs me—What is life!

[87]
(11).

Ex ea re tum privatim tum publicè, lignea virilia thyrſis alligata per eam ſolemnitatem geſtabant, fuit enim Phallus vocatum, membrum virile. Schaedius de diis. p. 130.

(12).

Heraclides Syracuſius libro de vetuſtis & ſancitis moribus ſcribit apud Syracuſios in perfectis thermophoriis, ex ſeſamo & melle fingi pudenda muliebria, quae per ludos & ſpectacula circumferebantur, & vocabantur Mylli. Athenaei. Deipnoſ. l. 14. p. 647.

(13).

This is taken notice of by the prophet Jeremiah.‘The women alſo with cords about them, The ranges in the temple. ſitting in the ways, burn bran for perfume; but if any of them, drawn by ſome that paſſeth by, lie with her, ſhe reproacheth her fellow, that ſhe was not thought as worthy as her ſelf, nor her cord broken. Baruch 6.43.

[146]

Herodotus explanes this paſſage of the Prophet. ‘Every woman at Babylon, ſays the Hiſtorian, was obliged, once in her life, to ſit down openly in the temple of Venus, in order to proſtitute her ſelf to ſome ſtranger: They enter into the temple, and ſit down crowned with garlands, ſome continually going out, and others coming in: The galleries where they ſit are built in a ſtrait line, and open on every ſide, that all ſtrangers may have a free paſſage to chuſe ſuch women as they like beſt. Thoſe women who excel in beauty and ſhape are ſoon diſmiſſed; but the deformed are ſometimes neceſſitated to wait three or four years, before they can ſatisfy the law. The men declared their choice by throwing money into the lap of the woman they moſt admired, which ſhe was by no means to refuſe, but inſtantly retire with the man that accoſted her, and fulfil the law. Women of rank (for none were diſpenſed with) might ſit in covered chariots for the purpoſe, whilſt their ſervants waited at a diſtance till they had done. Herodot. l. 1. c. 196.198. and 199.

Strabo likewiſe gives us an account to the ſame purpoſe. l. 16. p. 745.—And Juſtin gives this reaſon for this cuſtom,—leſt Venus alone ſhould appear laſcivious. Ne ſola impudica videretur. l. 18. c. 5.—

As to the breaking of the woman's cord, Dr. Hyde ſays, their lower garments were tied with ſmall and weak cords made of ruſhes, qui ad congrediendum erant frangendi. — Purchas pilgr. l. 1. c. 12. p. 65. confirms this notion; having ſeen the thing practiſed in his travels in the eaſt. But Grotius on Baruch ſays, the meaning was, the women had cords given them, as a token that they were under the vow of proſtitution, which when they had performed, the cord was properly ſaid to be broken; for every vow may be called vinculum, or a cord. As I take it, the caſe was both as [147] Hyde and Grotius relate it. I was in company with a phyſician, who had ſpent many years of his life in the Eaſt, and he aſſured me, he had ſeen both circumſtances practiſed in the kingdom of Cranganor.

As to the woman's burning incenſe or bran for a perfume, it was the cuſtom before coition, by way of charm and incentive. When a Babylonian and his wiſe had a mind to correſpond, they always firſt lit up the ſuming pan, imagining it improved the paſſion. So in the Pharmaceutria of Theocritus. p. 33. we ſee Simoetha is uſing her Incantation, nunc furfures ſacrificabo, [...], the word made uſe of in Jeremiah's Epiſtle.—And as if all this had not been luſt enough in their religion, it was farther declared in their Ritual, that thoſe were beſt qualified for the ſacerdotal function, who were born of mothers who conceived them of their own ſons.

In reſpect of human ſacrifices, if you would have a full account of them, conſult the following autors, and you will find that the Canaanites were far from being the only Pagans who were guilty of this unnatural barbarity—Selden de diis Syris. Segort. 1. c. 6. and all the autors he quotes. Grotius on Deut. 18. Iſaac Voſ. de orig. Idol. l. 2. c. 5. Dion. Voſſius on Maimon de Idol. c. 6. Lud. Vives notes on St. Aug. de Civit. Dei. l. 7. c. 19.—Ouzelius & Elmenhorſtius notes on Min. Foelix. Spencer de Leg. Hebr. l. 2. c. 13. And Fabricius, Bibliographia. c. 9.

[145]
(14).

That even ſpontaneous motion is performed by the divine power, is proved in the firſt part of a moſt excellent book, called, An Enquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul.—I ſhall only obſerve here, that motion is ſpontaneous, as it is begun and ended by the living Being itſelf, without phyſical neceſſity: but it is above the power and knowledge of the ſpontaneous Being, as it is performed mechanically: the motive power is immediately impreſſed by the Creator, who is the only mover, as well as the firſt mover. How adorable is this condeſcenſion! the Creator exerts his power in conſequence of the ſponteneity of his living creatures!—But is not this low work for the Supreme Lord of heaven and earth, ſays the mechanical reaſoner? No. Lowneſs of work is not applicable to the Creator of all things. He is as much the Creator of the meaneſt inſect, as of the higheſt intelligence. It is his perpetual power, exerted in coheſion, that keeps all the parts of matter in the bodies of living creatures together. Philoſophy cannot be hurt by admitting his power. His omnipotence is diſplayed to our ſenſes in the moſt deſpicable weed of the field as well as in the bright rolling orbs of heaven. In calling ſuch things low work, we forget what infinite power implies, and what infinite goodneſs prompts.

(15).

If it ſhould be aſked,—why was ſuch an intricate ſtructure of ſuch materials employed, or ſuch a laborious method contrived, by the organization of dead matter, if it no way ſerves to produce motion, but rather conſumes the force impreſſed? the anſwer is, that this conſuming mechaniſm is no inconvenience in nature, if we conſider who renews the motive power. We are forced to be frugal of our little power: but this is not applicable to the Deity. The governing power of the Deity is creating power. Beings made up of matter and ſpirit require ſuch a ſupplying power, and in the various work God inſtructs his rational Beings, and diſplays his omnipotence in wiſdom and action.

(16).

Eldine-Hole in Derbyſhire is a mile ſouth of Mamtorr, and 4 miles eaſt of Buxton. It is a perpendicular [196] gulph or chaſm, which I tried to fathom more than once, and found it by my line, and by the meaſure of ſound (at the rate of 16 feet one twelfth in one ſecond the meaſure Dr. Halley allows near the earth for the deſcent of heavy bodies), to be 1266 feet, or 422 yards down to the water; but how deep the water is cannot be known. I ſuppoſe it reaches to the abyſs. This chaſm is forty yards long above ground, and ten over at its broadeſt part: but from the day there is a ſloping deſcent of forty yards to the mouth of the horrible pit, and this is only four yards long and one and a half broad. Two villains who were executed at Derby not long ago, confeſſed at the gallows, that they threw a poor traveller into this dreadful gulph, after they had robbed him.

[195]
(17).

In the 2d volume of Familiar Letters between the characters in David Simple, the reader will find an excellent ſtory in relation to wiſhing, which the ingenious female writer calls a fragment of a Fairy Tale. p. 225—275: and concludes it in the following ſenſible manner.—The good Fairy came often to viſit me, and confirmed me in my reſolution, never again to be ſo unreaſonable, as to deſire to have all my wiſhes compleated; for ſhe convinced me, that the ſhort-ſighted eyes of mortals were not formed to ſee, whether the event of any of their own wiſhes would produce moſt happineſs or miſery: and that our greateſt felicity, often ariſes from the very diſappointment of thoſe deſires, the gratification of which, at the firſt view, ſeems to be neceſſary to our welfare.

(19.).

When a plague afflicted the Maſſilienſes, they fed a poor man deliciouſly, and adorned him with ſacred veſtments; then led him thro' the city, and ſacrificed him, by throwing him headlong down from a ſteep rock, after the people had poured their execrations upon him, and prayed that all the calamities of their city might fall upon him. — Such practice ſhews that Chriſt being offered for the ſins of the whole world, was in conformity to the ideas of mankind. The Jews had their devoted animal:—and the Gentiles had their ſacrificed poor man, and other ways.

(20.).

There is a third way to make gold, to wit, by ſeparation, for every metal contains ſome quantity of [263] gold; but the quantity is ſo ſmall that it bears no proportion to the expence of getting it out: this laſt way the Spagyriſts never attempt; and as for the two other methods, maturation, and tranſmuting by the grand elixir, the happy hour will never come, tho' ſo many ingenious men have often thought it drawing nigh. To conſole them for the loſs of their fortunes they have had ſome comfortable moments of reflexion, that they have been within ſome minutes of ſucceſs, when crack! all is gone and vaniſhed on a ſudden, and they have nothing before them but cinders and broken crucibles. It is very ſtrange then, that a man of Dr. Dickenſon's great veracity and ſkill in chimiſtry, ſhould affirm the thing was actually done in his preſence by an adept. (Epiſtola ad mundanum de quinteſſentia philoſophorum, etc. Oxon. 1686.) and the more ſo, as his friend, the great Mr. Boyle, told him the thing was an impoſſibility. Dickenſon's words are, Nec potui ſane quantacunque mihi fuerit opinio de iſta re, quin aliquoties animi penderem donec illuſtris ea demonſtratio quam veſtra excellentia, biennio jam elapſo, coram exhibuit, omnem anſam dubitandi mihi praecidiſſet—Placuit dominationi veſtrae claro experimento ante oculos facto animum meum ad opus accendere etiam quaeſtionum mearum ſolutiones (quantum licerat) promittere. — This is very ſurpriſing; and the more ſo, as the greateſt watchings and cloſeſt application, in ſearching after the ſtone, are all in vain, unleſs the ſtars ſhed a propitious influence on the labours of the Spagyriſt: the work muſt be begun and advance in proper planetary hours, and depends as much on judicial aſtrology, as on fire, camphire, ſalt, labour and patience: but judicial aſtrology is no ſcience. It is a mere farce. I muſt conclude then, that the hands of Mundanus the adept, were too quick for the doctor's eyes, and he deceived him by legerdemain: that all the [264] books on the ſubject are fraudulent deſcriptions to deceive the credulous; — and what Mundanus told Dickinſon of Sir George Ripley, canon of Bridlington, in Yorkſhire, in the reign of Edward the Fourth, and of Raymund Lully, was mere innovation. He affirmed that Ripley ſent the knights of Rhodes an hundred thouſand pounds to ſupport them in their wars againſt the Turks: and that Lully aſſiſted Edward I. king of England, with ſix millions of gold, towards carrying on the cruiſade. This piece of ſecret hiſtory he aſſures us he found in an antient manuſcript of indiſputable authority, quod inculpatae fidei regiſtris innoteſeit: A M. S. that no one ever ſaw except Mundanus. Penes me indeed. It was to be found only in his own head.

Ripley is in great repute among the adepts to this day, and his famous unintelligible and myſterious book is called a compound of alchymie contryning twelve gates. He inſcribed the manuſcript to Edward IV. but the editor of it dedicated it to Q. Elizabeth, and ſays, it contained the right method of making the philoſopher's ſtone and aurum potabile. Lully was a very learned man for the latter end of the 13th century, and writ ſeveral books in Latin; — Generales artium libri. — Libri logicales, phileſophici et metaphiſici. — Variarum artium libri. — Libri ſpirituales praedicabiles — and the vade mecum Lulli; which is a Latin piece on the philoſophers ſtone.

As to the aurum potabile mentioned by Ripley, which then and long after was eſteemed a panacea, or univerſal medicine, it is now a queſtion if there can be a tincture of gold; for if it be only a diviſion of the leſts, or minims of gold, by the ſpicula of aqua regia, and theſe minims thrown into oil of roſemary where they ſwim, it is no radical tincture of gold, and the ſole virtue lies in the oil of roſemary. The oil may be evaporated; the gold duſt remains; and that by melting is reduced to a lump of [265] gold again. This I have experimented. But the alchymiſts ſay, gold may be reduced into a gum of ſubſtance like honey, without any corroſive, and that gum ſteeped in ſpirit of wine acquires a ruby colour. An ounce of this is to be mixed with 16 ounces of another liquor, and we have aurum potabile; ſovereign in all diſtempers. This ſeems to me to be a ſecond part of the romance. The making of this golden gum is a ſecret we can no more come at than the philoſophers ſtone. The adepts however affirm it, and aſſure us, that Moſes could make aurum potabile, as is evident from his pulveriſing the golden calf, and giving it to the children of Iſrael to [266] drink. This great man, who wrote 540 years before Homer: 200 before Sanchoniatho; and 350 before the Trojan war, was, as they inform us, an adept.

[262]
(21).

Azora Burcot died in the year thirty two, ſix years after I left them, but Antonia Fletcher is ſtill living in the ſame happy ſituation; and by adviſing the young women to marry ſome young men of thoſe mountains, has made an alteration in the community for the better, and encreaſed the number of her people. The ſettlement is now like to continue, and they find many advantages from having men among them. The riſing generation [278] thereby acquired, now proves a bleſſing to the firſt colony, whom years have rendered much weaker and dependent than when I firſt ſaw them. Azora, a little before ſhe died, did intend to get in a recruit of female children for the ſupport of the ſociety: but Antonia judged it was much better, to let the young girls of the community get honeſt youths for their ſpouſes; for, by this means, they can never want young people to aſſiſt and comfort them, and to encreaſe and perpetuate their happy republic. For theſe reaſons, ſhe ſent for ſome young men to ſeveral neighbouring villages in Richmondſhire, to make ſeveral things wanting, and to dig, and work in the gardens, for ſo much by the year certain; and as they were ſmitten with the clean, civil girls of Burcot-Hamlet, ſeveral marriages ſoon enſued, and infants were produced before the twelve months had expired. More than half of the twenty women that married, had twins the firſt year, and all of them had ſtrong, healthy children. The ten extraordinary girls I mentioned, got very good huſbands, and as Antonia was particularly kind to them on their marrying, and gave to all the wedded folks great encouragement in profitable gardens and houſes, grain and cattle, they and their ſpouſes became rather more dutiful and uſeful to their miſtreſs and ruler than otherwiſe, and in gratitude, and for the ſake of their children, did their beſt to pleaſe Mrs. Fletcher, and encreaſe the common felicity. In this condition I found them on my ſecond arrival at Burcot-Hamlet. They were a flouriſhing village, and a moſt happy people. My ſecond viſit was fourteen years after the firſt; and I ſaw them a third time in the year fifty two. They were then all well, and enjoyed every comfort of life that can proceed from good and uſeful manners. Mrs. Fletcher, tho' now in years, has [279] no ſign of age in her conſtitution, and ſtill leads a moſt active and pious life. She is a ſubaltern providence to them, and with the tendereſt care, makes it the labour of her every day, to ſecure and advance the temporal and eternal intereſt of the people: but their ſouls is her main care. She performs to them divine ſervice twice every day, as good Azora was wont to do. She reads the beſt ſermons to the aged, and conſtantly catechiſes the young ones. She is a bleſſed woman.

By the way, reader, I muſt obſerve to you, that in travelling over that part of Richmondſhire, which is called Stanemore, I found ſeveral ſmall villages, that are not mentioned in Camden, or the Britannia Antiqua et Nova, or in England's Gazetteer; and tho' not ſo pretty and happy as Burcot in the northern end of the fells of Weſtmorland; yet in tolerable condition, and remarkable on account of ſeveral things and people; tho' they live intirely on what their ſpot affords, and have little communication with their countrymen beyond the mountains that ſeparate the inhabitants of Stanemore from the reſt of England. I took notice, in particular, that altho' thoſe poor remote people had not faculties adapted to large meaſures of knowledge, nor have miniſters to teach them, or churches to pray in; yet they were not alienated from the taſte and feelings of humanity, nor ſtrangers to the momentous principles of true chriſtianity. They had the bible, and could read it. They inſtructed their children in virtue and religion, and lived themſelves as the intelligent ſubjects of an Almighty Governor; in a firm belief that God will diſtinguiſh the virtue and the offence of mankind hereafter, by ſuitable tokens of his favour, or diſpleaſure. All this I ſaw in ſeveral villages of Stanemore-mountains. I lived for ſome time among the poor people: And I [280] mention their caſe here, that you may have the leſs reaſon to imagine there is any thing incredible in my account of the extraordinary ſtate of Burcot-Hamlet.

As to the Stanemore-part of Richmondſhire, Camden, and the authors of the other Britannia, and the Tourmen, etc. never ſo much as ſaw this country at a diance, I am very ſure. The very little they ſay of it, is falſe and ridiculous. Camden places Bows before Gretabridge. He ſays, in this deſolate and ſolitary, this mountainous and vaſt tract, called Stanemore, there is but one inn in the middle of it for the entertainment of travellers, whereas, in truth, there is no inn at all in what is properly called Stanemore: This inn Camden ſpeaks of, is the Bell I mentioned before, where I breakfaſted with Miſs Melmoth; and lies on the left ſide of a fine turnpike road from Bows to Brugh, in Weſtmorland, the high-way to Carliſle: but tho' this road is a part of Stanemore, running in a direct line from Gretabridge through Bows to Brugh, 18 miles of delightful ground, both on account of the excellence of the way, and the fine views of mountains and vales on either hand, for 12 miles, from a beautiful ruin of a roman caſtle at the end of the town * yet, this is but the ſouthern beginning [281] of Stanemore: That vaſt tract of mountains, glins, and vallies, foreſt, rock, and water, the moſt wonderful land in the world, for 40 miles to the end of the country, if it was poſſible to go ſtraight on, lies on the right hand of this road, as you ride to Brugh under Stanemore; or, on your left, as you come from Weſtmorland to Catarracton or Catarriek.

Here, by the way, let me tell you, Reader, lives Ralph Hawkwell, who keeps an excellent houſe, where you may get choice things, after a ride of 22 miles, if you come from Boroughbridge to go the north; or of 15 miles, if from Gretabridge, for the ſouth; provided you have the rem; and if you have not, tho' you were an apoſtle of a man, Ralph would have very little regard for you. Indeed, every where in the north, [282] where the beſt of things are to be had, I have always found travelling there as expenſive as near London. Many I know give a different account: but the reaſon is, either they never were there; or, they travel in a pilgrim-like manner. You muſt take care, then, to have money enough, if ever you undertake the northern expedition I have frequently gone upon: and as it is not ſafe carrying much caſh with you, for there are rogues in that part of the world, as well as in this; they rob even on Stanemore-road; and in riding over the great moor that lies between Brugh and Appleby, there is a little ale-houſe to be ſeen at a good diſtance, on the right hand, at the entrance of a wood, at the bottom of a range of vaſt fells, where high-way-men ſometimes reſort: I was purſued by two of them, not long ago, and to the excellence of my horſe, owed the ſaving of my purſe, and perhaps my life: they were well mounted, but I kept an hundred yards a-head of them for ſeveral miles, while, as faſt as they could ſtretch away, they chaſed me till near the town of Brugh. I was all alone, my fellow having received a miſchief, and being obliged to ſtay a day behind; and the rogues did ſwear and hoot moſt horribly, and fired three ſhots at me; but my horſe was as good as ever ſpanked it along, and I cut him up, and pricked him over the turf, like the wind away:—I ſay, then, as it is not ſafe travelling with all the money neceſſary for ſuch a long journey, the beſt way is, when caſh runs low, to lie by to reſt for a week, and put your notes in order, in ſome town, and by one of the dealers, or manufacturers of the place, draw on your friend, or goldſmith in London, for what you want, and by the return of the poſt, you will be paid the money where you are. In this manner I did, when I was at Richmond laſt, in the north-riding of Yorkſhire: Being [283] in want of money, I aſked a gentleman with whom I chanced to dine, how I could ſupply myſelf with 20 l. by draft on one in the capital; and he directed me to his neighbour, who let me have what I had occaſion for at moderate exchange, as ſoon as he heard from his friend in London. I might have had any money I named in this way: and ſo, in other places of trade.

I hope, reader, you will excuſe this little digreſſion, becauſe it is meant well; and for the ſame reaſon, I imagine you will pardon me for adviſing you, in the next place, (ſhould the fates ever bring you to Catarractonium, in order to proceed to the northern extremity of our country), to go 4 miles out of your way to ſee Richmond town, before you ſet out for Gretabridge, to Joſeph Marſhall's, the beſt houſe of the two inns there. The delightful, romantic ſituation of Richmond, and the fine curioſities about the town, will afford you an agreeable entertainment for a couple of days; and if you like going at night to a club of very worthy, ſenſible men of this town, who are very civil to ſtrangers, you may paſs the evening in a very pleaſing way; or if you have a taſte for dancing, and prefer the converſation of a fine girl to a pipe and more ſerious diſcourſe, there is a ſmall polite aſſembly of as pretty women as ever gladdened the heart of man. My method, while there, was to ſmoak one night with the club; and the next I devoted to the ladies. We made up ten couple, and had the hemp-dreſſers one night, which is, you know, if you are a dancing reader, the moſt difficult, and laborious of all the country dances; and no where have I ſeen the ground more actively beat, or, in juſter meaſure. Life and truth and charms were in perfection in thoſe Richmond girls. I was there in 29, 37, and 53, and the ſenſible club, and bright aſſembly, [284] were ſtill in being; but no more than three did I ſee, of men or women, in 37, that was there in 29; and in 52, they were all ſtrangers to me. Some were married away; ſome had removed; and others were tranſlated to the ſhades of eternity. This was to me a moral leſſon. When I looked round the aſſembly room the laſt time I was there, and found every glorious girl of my acquaintance was gone, and that years had rendered me almoſt unfit to join with the ladies then preſent, in the dancings of the night, a philoſophical ſadneſs came powerfully upon my mind, and I could not help ſighing in the midſt of harmony, and a blaze of charms. This life, I ſaw was a fleeting ſcene indeed.

And now, reader, as to Stanemore-country, if it ſhould ever come into your head, to wander over this wild and romantic part of our world, at the hazard of your neck, and the danger of being ſtarved, your route is, when you have paſſed the turnpike on Stanemore, in your way to Brugh, to turn off to the right, beyond the public-houſe, and aſcend a fine riſing valley you will ſee between two mountains, till you come to the top of the firſt hills: then proceed, if you can, in the courſe I have deſcribed, and wherever it is in your power, tend to the north eaſt, for that is the way out. This is one way into the heart of Stanemore in Richmondſhire, and will bring you, by the way, among the dreadful northern fells of Weſtmorland; a frightful country, and a fatiguing march.

Another way to the Stanemore Alps, is behind Jack Railton's, the quaker's houſe at Bows. Hire a guide from him, and his man will bring you as he did me once through a very ſurprizing way of deep bottoms to a public houſe at Eggleſton, on the border of Richmond-Stanemore. There reſt that night, and early the [285] next morning, proceed due north, when you can, with another guide, and you will come to mountains upon mountains, rapid rivers, and headlong torrents, that form amazing and tremendous ſcenes. Or, as this way is neither comfortable, nor very ſafe, it is a better road to the confines, or beginning of Stanemore, to ride from Gretabridge to Bernard Caſtle, and from Bernard Caſtle to Eggleſton, about 16 miles, as I judge, for it is not meaſured, and then ſet out for the mountains from Eggleſton, as before directed.—I have been told there is another way into Stanemore, through Biſhoprick; but as I am a ſtranger to it, I can only ſay what I have heard, that it is worſe than the bottoms I went through from the quaker's houſe. This is enough, reader, to ſhew you how to get into Stanemore, if you have the curioſity and heart to viſit that very wild and wonderful land.

[277]
*

By the way, I ſuſpect from Mr. Horſley's account of the roman caſtle or ſtation, that he never was on the ſpot, but had his relation from the ſurveyor he ſent out to find the length of this roman wall, and take other dimenſions and notes for his Britannia; I mean Mr. Cay, who publiſhed the late map of Northumberland, which Mr. Horſley employed him to make. He does not deſcribe the fort and ſituation, and the adjacent country, [281] as if he had been there himſelf: nor can I think he ever rid from this caſtle to Brugh or Burgh under Stanemore, or from Brugh, the roman Verterae, to Brovocum, now Brougham caſtle, a great and curious roman ruin. The fineſt things relating to them, he has omitted, and many antiquities that are to be found in off-ſets by the way. I queſtion, likewiſe, if he ever ſaw with his own eyes, the eaſtern and weſtern terminations of the roman wall. If he was at Newcaſtle, and really did ride over Lonſdale marſh to Tunnocelum, (a marſh where I had like to have loſt my life), it is ſurprizing that a man of his underſtanding, and taſte for antiquities, ſhould give no better account of theſe places. For my part, I could not ſee what he ſaw: nor did he ſee what I ſaw, at the end of the town of Stanemore.

[280]
(22).

Such knights were honourable creations made by the Iriſh kings. We have an account of them in the pſalter of Tarah, before the reigns of Conaire the Great, A. M. 3970, ante Chriſtum 34; Cormac Ulfadda, A. D. 230; and the glorious Brien Boiromhe, A. D. 1027; the three greateſt monarchs that ever Ireland had: Fitzgerald, the firſt knight of Glin, was ſo made by the immortal Brien Boiroimhe, who fell in the bloody fight, A. D. 1239, that was ſought by him with Maolmorda king of Lcimſier, who joined with the Danes. The king of Ireland and the king of Leinſter ſlew each other; and with Brien Boiroimhe ſet the glory of Ireland. The ſtates from this time began to decay; and Roderick o Connor, who came to the crown, A. D. 1108. was the laſt king of Ireland. Our Henry the Second, got the kingdom A. D. 1172, by two means; one of which was a grant the pope made of it to him; who was allowed by the natives to be ſupreme Lord of the iſland in temporals, and the nobility had by commiſſion reſigned it to him, after the death of Brien Boiroimhe.—The other mean, and what effectually did the work, was the king of Leinſter's joining with Strangwell, who was at the head [289] of the Engliſh forces, and had married that king's daughter. An old chronicle ſays ſhe was the moſt beautiful woman upon earth of her time, and very learned: but inferior nevertheleſs in beauty and learning to the ſix princeſſes we read of in the pſalter of Tarah, who were fair beyond all mortals that ever lived, and wonderful in the extent of their knowledge; to wit,

  • The princeſs Mac Diarmuid.
  • The princeſs Mac Reagien.
  • The princeſs Mac Faolain.
  • The princeſs Mac Kennedy.
  • The princeſs O Heyn.
  • The princeſs O Flaherty.

Theſe ſix were Druideſſes, ſays the pſalter of Tarah.

By the way, reader, let me tell you, that from this ſame pſalter of Tarah, I writ out one of the fineſt and moſt improving love ſtories that ever I read. It is called the adventure of Teriagh Mac Shain and the beautiful Gara O Mulduin; which happened in the reign of Cormac Ulfada, king of Ireland, in the year of ſalvation 213, that Faon Maccumhail, commonly called Fian Maccul, the mighty champion, beat the Picts, and brought off among other priſoners, the beautiful Ciarnuit, (daughter to the king of the Picts) whom Cormac Ulfada took for his concubine. This ſtory is likewiſe more ſhortly told in the red book of Mac Eogane, a very valuable old Iriſh manuſcript: and from both thoſe books I will give my reader the beſt part of this adventure as ſoon as I can ſee a proper place to bring it in.

[288]
(23.).

This Cormac Cuillenan writ the famous pſalter of Caſhel, a very extraordinary and valuable book, which he compoſed from antient poems of the bards, who thus writ their hiſtory, and from venerable records, as this king and prelate declares in his will. The clauſe is this — My pſalter, which preſerves the antient records and monuments of my native country, which are tranſcribed with great fidelity, I leave to Ronal Caſhel, to be preſerved to after-times and ages yet to come. — There is another remarkable clauſe in this great man's will, to wit, — My ſoul for mercy I commit to heaven; my body leave to duſt and rottenneſs. There is not a word of any ſaint in it; and of conſequence, there was no ſaint-worſhip then in Ireland.

Cormac writ his will the day before he fought the bloody battle of Maghailbe with the king of Leinſter, and therein fell. It begins in this manner:—

Summon'd away by death, which I perceive
Approaches; for by prophetic ſkill,
I find that ſhort will be my life and reign:
I ſolemnly appoint that my affairs
Shall thus be ſettled after I am dead;
And thus I conſtitute my lateſt will:
My royal robe embroider'd o'er with gold,
And ſparkling with the rays of coſtly jewels;
Well ſuited to a ſtate of majeſty,
I do bequeath, etc. —
My coat of mail of bright and poliſh'd ſteel
Will well become the martial king of Ulſter,
To whom I give it: and my golden chain
Shall the moſt pious Muchuda enjoy
[291]
As a reward, etc. —
My golden veſtment for moſt ſacred uſe,
And my royal wardrobe I hereby give
To etc. —

Now from this antique piece verbally tranſlated, I think it is evident, that the kings of the four provinces of Ireland were not ſuch poor and ignorant chiefs as they are generally imagined to be; and of conſequence, that one of the four, to whom the other three did homage, and who was therefore called the king of Ireland, was always a potent prince, and could do great matters, when they were all united. This conſideration, I fanſy, (and the addreſs let me add of Anſelm, archbiſhop of Canterbury, and of Lanfranc, archbiſhop of the ſame ſee, to Mortogh O Brien king of Ireland, and Terlah O Brien king of Ireland, Moriardacho Glorioſo and Teraeluacho Magnifico, To the moſt magnificent Terlagh O Brien, king of Ireland, our benediction, etc. as you may read them at large in Uſher's Primordia * ) ought to give ſome credit to O Fluherty's Ogygia, Keating's Hiſtory, and Mac Curtius' Annals; which thoſe writers really took from very antient records, and principally from the very valuable manuſcripts, called the pſalters of Caſhel and Tarah.

What the pſalter of Caſhel was I have told you, reader; and as to the pſalter of Tarah, the hiſtory of it is this. — On a tract of land called Tarah, that was taken from the province of Leimſter, and added to the county of Meath, ſtood the largeſt of the four vaſt palaces of the kings of Ireland, and at that grand fabric there was a triennial [292] meeting of the ſtates of the kingdom, called the royal aſſembly of Tarah. There they enacted laws, examined the antient chronicles and records, and purged them from all falſe and ſpurious relations, ſettled genealogies, and conſidered noble exploits. All the things that received the aſſembly's approbation were regiſtered, and tranſcribed into the royal records, and they called this journal the pſalter of Tarah.

[290]
*
Theſe letters were written by the Engliſh archbiſhops to the Iriſh kings, Turlogh and Murtogh, in the years 1098 and 1110.
(24.).

The expreſſion — partaker of the divine nature by impreſſions from it, may, perhaps, be thought by ſome readers, to approach to viſion; and to contradict my own opinion before delivered, in relation to this ſubject: let me obſerve then, that by impreſſion, I here mean no more, than bright beams of light caſt upon the ſoul by the preſent Deity; as he ſits all power, all knowledge, in the heart, and diſpenſes ſuch rays of wiſdom to the pious petitioner, as are ſufficient to procure a laſting ſenſe of ſpiritual heavenly things. God is not only in heaven. He dwelleth indeed in the heaven of heavens after the moſt glorious manner, as the High and Lofty One, and by ſome ſplendid appearance, manifeſts a preſence to the ſenſes of the bleſſed ſpirits * ; but [309] as he is an infinite Spirit, diffuſed thro' all things, filling as well as containing them, ſeeing and knowing all even [310] the moſt ſecret things; for, His eyes, (to ſpeak after a popular manner) are ten thouſand times brighter than the ſun, beholding all the ways of men, and conſidering the moſt ſecret paths; knowing all things e're ever they were created, and looking upon all things after they were perfected; it follows, that ſince nothing can exclude the preſence of this infinite Spirit; then, in Him we live, move, and have our being: He is not far from any of us; but altho' he is above all, yet he is through all, [311] and in us all; within us, as well as without us; and therefore, in the hearts of the faithful, he muſt be conſidered, as an immenſe, intellectual, pure light, ready to enlighten and enliven them, and to ſhed forth the bright beams of his love upon them. I imagine this illuſtrates the thing. To me it ſeems reaſon.

[308]
*

As to the expreſſion juſt now uſed, to wit, that this infinite Spirit manifeſts himſelf to the ſenſes of his bleſſed [309] ſubjects — it may be aſked how this can be — can the eye behold what is infinite and inviſible?

The anſwer is this, that although God's eſſence be inviſible, yet there is a glory, the train and attendance of his eſſence, which exhibits a bodily and ſenſible viſion of God. He decketh himſelf with light as with a garment. This is the dwelling of his eſſence. He dwelleth in light that is unapproachable.

We muſt diſtinguiſh then between the eſſential and the majeſtatic preſence of God. The majcſtatic preſence is the diſcovery of his eſſential preſence in a determinate place by a magnificent luminous appearance; and this the apoſtle calls the excellent glory — megaloprepous doxes. This glory appeared on Mount Sinai ſix days together. It reſted and dwelt in the ſanctuary. It filled the houſe. Moſes ſaw its back parts, that is, a ſmall meaſure and ſcantling of it, in proportion to the weakneſs of his mortal eyes: but, in the other world, when mortals ſhall have put on immortality, and our bodies ſhall be inveſted with the new powers of ſpirituality and incorruption, then face to face: we ſhall be able to ſee the whole luſtre of divine Majeſty as familiarly as one man beholdeth the face of another. *

[310]

There are two ways then, (as an excellent one obſerves) of ſeeing God, to wit, by intelligence, and, in ſome manner, by ſenſe: but we muſt not imagine that theſe two make up the beatific viſion. There is a cauſe of more importance to beatitude. The ſight and contemplation of the divine glories is our act; but the act of God is the communication of them. This makes the ſaints perfectly bleſſed. By the communication of the divine glories, we come to be, not bare ſpectators, but, theias koinonoi phuſeos, partakers of the divine nature.

As we are more obliged, (ſays the writer I have mentioned) to the ſun (who is the cheer and vigor of nature, and the very life of all animal and vegetable beings), for his influences than for his ſight: — ſo are the heavenly inhabitants much more obliged to God for their receptions from him as the ſountain of life and wiſdom, than for the ſight and contemplation of him as the ſubject of perfection. This illuſtrates the matter; and we may ſay, there is a third way of ſeeing God, to wit, in the enjoyment of him; the beamings of his favor, and the effuſions of his love, paſſing thro' the whole man, and producing an intimate ſenſation of him both in body and ſoul, and filling both with an unconceivable and endleſs delectation. This is ſeeing God as he is.

[308]
*

As grateful objects of ſenſe make up a great part of human delectation; may we not ſuppoſe, that this glory of God, accommodated to our ſenſes, will produce a more raviſhing and tranſcendent delight, than all the objects in nature are capable of producing?

(25.).

Dr. Shaw, in his travels, ſhews that the cave near Cape Bonn was the grot which Virgil deſcribes in the following manner —

Defeſſi Aeneadae, quae proxima, litora curſu
Contendunt petere, et Lybiae vertuntur ad oras.
Eſt in ſeceſſu longo locus: inſula portum
Efficit objectu laterum, quibus omnis ab alto
Frangitur inque ſinus ſcindit ſeſe unda reductos.
Hinc atque hinc vaſtae rupes, geminique minantur
In coelum ſcopuli. Quorum ſub vertice latè
Aequora tuta ſilent. Tum ſylvis ſcena coruſcis
Deſuper, horrentique atrum nemus imminet umbra.
Fronte ſub adverſa ſcopulis pendentibus antrum
Intus aquae dulces, vivoque ſedilia ſaxo;
Nympharum domos.—

[320]

The weary Trojans ply their ſhatter'd oars
To neareſt land, and make the Lybian ſhores.
The Trojans, weary'd with the ſtorms explore
The neareſt land, and reach the Lybian ſhore.
Within a long receſs there lies a bay,
An iſland ſhades it from the rolling ſea,
And forms a port ſecure for ſhips to ride,
Broke by the jutting land on either ſide:
In double ſtreams the briny waters glide.
Far in a deep receſs, her jutting ſides
An iſle projects, to break the rolling tides
And forms a port, where, curling from the ſea
The waves ſteal back, and wind into a bay.
Betwixt two rows of rocks, a ſylvan ſcene
Appears above, and groves for ever green.
On either ſide, ſublime in air, ariſe
Two tow'ring rocks, whoſe ſummits brave the ſkies;
Low at their feet the ſleeping ocean lies:
Crown'd with a gloomy ſhade of waving woods,
Their awful brows hang nodding o'er the floods.
A grot is form'd beneath, with moſſy ſeats
To reſt the Nereids, and exclude the heats:
Down thro' the crannies of the living walls
The cryſtal ſtreams deſcend in murm'ring falls.
Oppos'd to theſe, a ſecret grotto ſtands,
The haunt of Nereids, fram'd by nature's hands;
Where poliſh'd ſeats appear of living ſtone,
And limpid rills, that tinkle as they run.
[321]
There lies a harbour far within the land,
Commodious form'd by an oppoſing iſle:
Which breaking as a mound the furious waves,
They run divided, calmer then unite.
On each ſide rocks, and two with ſteepy height
Aſpiring touch the clouds, ſafe at whoſe feet
The waters far and near pacific ſleep.
Diſtant from theſe a ſylvan ſcene, beyond,
To bound the proſpect, woods with horrent ſhade.
Op'ning to view, beneath the hanging rocks
A cave; within, a fountain pure; and ſeats
Form'd from the living ſtone; the cool receſs
Of nymphs: —

This grot within a mountain over-ſhaded with trees, and lying open to the ſea, with a cliff on each ſide, and not far from Carthage, anſwers ſo well to the Nympharum domus of Virgil * , that I think we need not doubt of its being the cave into which the gallant Aeneas led the gracious queen: but that it ever was a quarry, and that pillars were made by the workmen to ſupport the roof, as Dr. Shaw ſays, does not ſeem to be the caſe. The whole grot, which goes in 36 fathoms under the hill, its arches, and pillars were undoubtedly by the hand of nature; like many others I have ſeen. So it appeared to me. I could not ſee the leaſt ſign of a labouring hand in this cave.

[319]
*

The kingdom of Tunis in the weſt of Barbary in Aſric, was once the celebrated republic of Carthage. The city of Carthage was about 4 miles from the ſpot the city of Tunis now ſtands on. Many ruins of it are ſtill remaining. This glorious city, that was 23 miles round, and built near 100 years before Rome, was taken and utterly raſed by young Africanus, that is, Scipio Aemilianus, before Chriſt 146 years. It had diſputed with Rome for the empire of the world, for the ſpace of 118 years. The moſt beautiful village in the world, called Marſa, now ſtands in the weſtern point of antient Carthage, and from thence it is a fine walk to Dido's Cave under Cape-Bonn.

(26.).

St. Donat's Cave, (by the vulgar called Reynard's Church) in Glamorganſhire, is 160 feet in [322] length, the breadth 43, and the height 34. Every ſpring tide fills it with water, and has ſmoothed it to perfection. At the upper end of it, there is a grand ſeat, arched into the ſtone, and near it a falling-ſpring of freſh water drops into a ciſtern it has made. The ruſhing tides have made good ſeats in the ſides of the rock, and from them you have a view of the channel, which is ſeven leagues. Every ſhip that ſail to and from Briſtol, is ſeen, and the mountains of Somerſetſhire bound the proſpect that way. The cliff over the cave is almoſt double the height of the grot, and to the very edge of the precipice, the cattle come to graze, to avoid the inſects, who will not approach the ſea-breezes. The whole is a charming ſcene.

[321]
(27).

I obſerved before, that Camden, and every other deſcriber of England, had not the leaſt notion of Stanemore, that is, the north fells of Weſtmorland, and the northern mountains of Richmondſhire: and as to the people who live on the borders of Stanemore, I could not find ſo much as one man in Richmond, Gretabridge, Bowes, and Brugh, that had been any length of way up the mountains. When I aſked Railton, the quaker, a very knowing man, who keeps the George at Bowes, what ſort of a country Stanemore was? He anſwered, it is, after a few miles riding, more wild and mountainy than the highlands of Scotland, and unpaſſable: nay, my landlord at Eggleſton, ſome miles within Stanemore, knew nothing of the mountains upon mountains that are far beyond his houſe.

*

You will find this curious letter in Biograph. Britan.

(28).

Tho' the image of a flea may be magnified to eight feet, by removing farther off the white paper ſcreen, on which the picture of the object is thrown very beautifully from the object poſited in a ſingle pocket microſcope that is faſtened to a tube to the ſolar microſcope; yet the image or picture is more diſtinct and exact, when not enlarged to more than three feet, on the oppoſite ſide of the darkened room.—By the way, reader, the ſolar microſcope is the moſt entertaining of all the microſcopes, and by it, without any ſkill in drawing, you may eaſily make an exact picture of any animal or object you can put into the faſtened pocket microſcope. The object is ſo intenſely illuminated by the ſun beams collected by a convex lens, that are thrown on it by a looking-glaſs, that its picture is moſt perfectly and planely repreſented on the white ſcreen: You may have a mite, or one of the imperceptible animals of rotten wood, ſo truly and greatly magnified, as eaſily to ſketch out the exact image of it, in all its wonderful parts, with a pencil or a pin: and in this amuſing work, and in transferring the objects from the ſolar to the double reflecting microſcope, the catoptric microſcope, and the microſcope for opake objects, how uſefully and delightfully might a young man of fortune employ many hours that are miſerably ſauntered away, or conſumed in ſenſeleſs and illicit delights?

(29.).

Many inſtances can be produced of Charles the Firſt, exerting a power contrary to the intereſt of the proteſtant religion; and a capital one is, this king's expreſs and ſtrict orders, ſigned with his own hand, to captain John Pennington, to deliver (and he did, in obedience thereto, deliver) a ſquadron of the naval forces of England, conſiſting of eight men of war, into the hands and abſolute power of the French king; and Charles directed, that in caſe of diſobedience in the Engliſh captains to that order, Pennington was to ſink them. Theſe naval forces enabled the Gauliſh king to break and ſuppreſs the power of the Rochelle proteſtants: this was an unjuſtifiable ſtep indeed in Charles's reign: and if to this we add a thouſand acts of this ſaid ſovereign Lord, that were the cauſe of all the diſagreements, differences and contentions between his majeſty and his people, that happened in his reign, and the ſources of public calamity, it is certainly moſt amazing, to ſee the memory of this prince treated equally, if not ſuperior to the moſt celebrated martyrs! torrents of tears have I ſeen pour from the eyes of our mourning theologers on the 30th of January. I remember one time, when Dr. Warren preached the commemoration ſermon at St. Margaret's Weſtminſter, that he wept and ſobbed ſo bitterly and calamitouſly, that he could hardly get out the following concluding words of his fine diſcourſe — the Roy — Royal Ma — Martyr — the — holy Martyr — the — the — bleſſed Martyr.

Nor can I forget the learned author of the Life of David. This gentleman preached before the late Duke of Devonſhire in Chriſt-Church, Monday, Jan. 30, 1737, on theſe words—Take away the droſs from [346] the ſilver, and there ſhall come forth a veſſel for the finer. — Take away the wicked from before the king, and his throne ſhall be eſtabliſhed in righteouſneſs. Prov. 25.

In this fine ſermon, the Dr. gave us the picture of a man as like Charles the 1ſt. as Phalaris was to the apoſtle St John: he then deprecated the murder, (which are his own words), and in the moſt piteous manner, with tears informed us, that God gave us this prince in his mercy, and took him away in his indignation: A Prince: (ſays the doctor), who was a true lover of his people, compaſſionate of their errors and misfortunes, and religiouſly tender of their well-being. He equally underſtood and practiſed religion in its purity; and he died defending it. King Charles the Firſt of bleſſed memory! — Here the preacher wept, and then proceeded to abuſe the oppoſers of this royal contender for abſolute prerogatives; as abſolute as thoſe the eaſtern, or civil law potentates claim; and then, to make and apply obſervations and inferences to the perſons and characters of the preſent times, he told the lord-lieutenant, and the houſe of lords, (among other admirable things) that they ſhould remember how the lay lords had conſented to deprive the biſhops of their ſeats in parliament, and rob the ſpiritual lords of their rights and privileges; which drew down a juſt judgment upon themſelves; for they, the ſaid lay lords, were ſoon after voted uſeleſs: have a care then, lay lords, how you act for the future againſt the ſpiritual lords. Maintain, for the time to come, a ſtrict and inviolable regard to the rights, privileges, and properties of the ſpiritual lords.

This advice, by the way, appeared to me very ſingular, and I think, on the contrary, that it would be [347] well for our church, if our biſhops were obliged to leave the court, the parliament, and their politicks, and then ſpend their lives in labouring in the vineyard of Chriſt, in their ſeveral dioceſes. What have prieſts to do with baronies and acts of ſtate; men that ought above all other men to be content with food and raiment, and to withdraw themſelves from the world, that by their continued converſation with God, and attention only to the ſacred preſcriptions of the goſpel, they might appear repleniſhed with that divine power and virtue, which by prayer, and all the exerciſes of piety and penitence, they had implored; and by their examples and inſtructions, brighten and inflame the people with the love of God, and improve the good in goodneſs, and correct and reform the wicked. This would be acting like biſhops indeed. The holineſs of our prelates lives, and their fervor in teaching mankind the truths of Jeſus Chriſt, would ſoon advance the cauſe of their maſter. They would bring the people to conform to the will of the Lord, and cauſe the learned to purifie the defilements of genius; that pride and vanity, that curioſity and ſelf-love which are incompatible with an accompliſhed purity of heart. But as to Charles the Firſt of bleſſed memory, certain I am, that whatever Dean Delany may think of him, this prince did really contend for the cardinal maxims of the civil law, and died, not for true religion, (as this doctor ſays) but to advance the civil laws above the conſtitution and laws of Britain, and thereby acquire an abſolute dominion. Quod principi placuit legis habet vigorem. It appears from matters of fact, that his pleaſure was to be the law. In him was to reſide the ſole power of impoſing taxes on the people. This power, and other powers contrary to the fundamental form of this government; this king of bleſſed [348] memory aſſumed and challenged as rights, under the name of his undoubted prerogatives, and graſped the pretence ſo hard, as never to part with it, till he wanted ſtrength to hold it. This is the martyr. His reign was a provoking violation of parliamentary rights, and a cruel oppreſſion of the ſubjects.

Inſtead then of the fine laboured reaſons offered by Dr. Delaney to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland, to account for the way of providence in the tragical death of this king, he might have ſaid — That whereas this prince had departed from the known laws of the land to an arbitrary power, and not only the preſſures and ſufferings of the people, under this method of governing, were innumerable; but the fundamental form and original conſtitution of Britain, (on which the proteſtant religion and the liberty of Europe depend) was in danger of being ſubverted, and for ever deſtroyed, therefore did Providence deliver up this king into the hands of wicked men, who had uſurped the adminiſtration of affairs, that the mortification in the conſtitution might be cured by the death of this deſtroying prince; and the violence of his exit remain a monument in terrorem to all future kings of England; to have a care how they offer to make any alteration or change in the original form of government; for violations of the conſtitution had brought Charles the Firſt to the block. This had been a reaſonable account of that ſad affair. It is ſupported by matters of fact.

N. B. The contentions between his Majeſty and the houſe of commons began about the following eſſential points. —

  • 1. A power the king aſſumed, and challenged as a right, to impoſe taxes, levy monies, and impoſe duties on [349] merchandizes, without a previous grant thereof in parliament.
  • 2. That the commons were obliged to obſerve and obey the king's meſſages, in giving precedency to the matter of ſupplies, preferable to the redreſs of grievances, and to depend on royal promiſes, for time and opportunity to diſpatch other buſineſs.
  • 3. That the commons had no right and power of enquiring into the demeanour of the king's miniſters and neareſt ſervants, and impeaching them for miſdemeanours.
  • 4. That the king could, in his courts below, take cognizance of, and cenſure the debates of the commons.
  • 5. That the king could, by warrants ſigned with his own hand, arreſt and impriſon his ſubjects; and eſpecially the members of parliament, for what they ſaid and did in parliament.

Theſe illegal and deſtructive acts of power king Charles the Firſt claimed as his prerogatives, and exerciſed them as long as he was able, with great rigour, and extraordinary circumſtances; and how ſuch a general oppreſſion, and rendering the two eſtates of lords and commons of no ſignification, can make the memory of this prince bleſſed; — or, how his ſuffering, in the manner he did, in defence of ſuch abſolute, law-giving power, that was inconſiſtent with the conſtitution, and with the reaſons upon which it is founded, can render him a holy and bleſſed martyr, is paſt my comprehenſion. I ſhould rather chuſe to ſay, that ſince Charles would not act for the protection, happineſs, and ſafety of his people, but by a continued exertion of ſovereign power, endeavored to oppreſs and ruin them, and change the form of government, his arbitrary principles brought him to a diſmal extremity. This (as before obſerved) [350] is the truth of the caſe. May his death be a warning to future Engliſh kings; that they may, like his majeſty king George the Second, govern with parliaments, and exert their power for the protection, ſafety, and happineſs of the people.

[345]
(30.).

Account of Du Pleſſis Mornay. The great Du Pleſſis Mornay was born the 5th of November, 1549, and died at his baronie La Foret in Poitou, the 13th of November, 1623, aged 74; having retired to his country ſeat, after Louis the Thirteenth had taken from him the government of Saumur. He writ ſeveral excellent books, and one that is invaluable, called Mornay on the Euchariſt, againſt the papiſts, which was publiſhed in 1598. — This book produced the famous conference between Du Pleſſis Mornay and Cardinal Perron, at Fontainbleau in the year 1600. The victory at this conference is by the papiſts aſcribed to Perron: but the proteſtants, with more juſtice [351] affirm, that Du Pleſſis was victor at Fontainbleau. Jacques Davy du Perron, at the time, biſhop of 'Evreux, publiſhed a book on this conference, in which he gives a pretended true account of it, and illuſtrates and defends his cauſe: but to this the great Mornay replied, and made a poor devil of Perron. See thoſe pieces, reader, and you will be finely entertained; for, Perron, tho' a papiſt, was a great man.

An account of cardinal Perron. Sept. 5. N. B. Cardinal Perron was born in the year 1556, Nov. 25, and died at Paris, A. D. 1618, aged 63. He had been trained up in the reformed religion with great care; but went off to popery, on the preferments offered him by Henry III. — As, on the contrary, Du Pleſſis Mornay had been educated a papiſt, but became a proteſtant, to the loſs of the greateſt preferments. — It was Du Perron that converted to popery the famous Henri Sponde, biſhop of Pamiers, and abridger of the annals of Baronius, dedicated to Perron: — and, in conjunction with Cardinal d'Oſſat, he made a papiſt of Henri le Grand, Henry the Fourth of France. It was owing to the management of this cardinal de St. Agnes, in the conclave, and to d'Oſſat, that that wicked fellow, Poul V. * was created pope, and cardinal Baronius loſt the popedom: Bellarmine, however, (who was likewiſe one of the 59 cardinals in that conclave,) might have had it, but he refuſed it. — Thoſe things we find in Guy Pattins letters, tom. 1. — Godeau melanges critiques, apud antillon.— and hiſt. des conclaves.

Borgheſe, alias Paul V, who ſucceeded that fine character, Leo XI. in the year 1605, in the 53d year of his age, died the 28th of January, 1621; aged 68.— and had for his ſucceſſor, Ludoviſio, called Gregory the XVth.

[352]

An account of cardinal d'Oſſat. N. B. D'Oſſat was born Auguſt 23, 1536, and died at Rome, March 13, 1604. aged 67. His five volumes of letters are a maſter-piece in politicks, and next to Father Paul's hiſtory of the Council of Trent, are the beſt books you can look into, reader, for an exact and full deſcription of the artifices of the court of Rome. — Remarkable was the ſaying of this cardinal, when Henry the Fourth of France was ſtabbed; — If there was the leaſt pretext for ſuch aſſaſſinations, they ought to be contrived and executed by the hereticks, whom the king ſeparated from and abandoned, and thereby gave them reaſon to be afraid of him; but they never made the leaſt attempt of this kind, neither againſt him, nor the five kings his predeceſſors, tho' their majeſties made the moſt cruel butcheries of the Huguenots.

Account of Cardinal Baronius. N. B. Baronius was born, October 30, in the year 1538, and died the 30th of June, 1607, aged 68. His twelve tomes in folio of eccleſiaſtical annals, containing the hiſtory of the church for twelve centuries, ending at the year 1198, have been well called the twelve labours of the Roman Hercules. It is a prodigious work. The reading, the erudition, the judgment, the order and method of the author, are amazing: but an unhappy prejudice for papal rights, and Romiſh pieties, attaches him continually to the Roman cauſe, without the leaſt regard to truth, in a thouſand and a thouſand articles, and makes it plain, that he was not aſſiſted from above in this work, as he affirms himſelf. The moſt judicious of the Roman Catholic writers ſay, — Il ſeroit a ſouhaiter qu'il eut ete exempt des preventions que ſon education & ſon païs lui avoient inſpirees.

N. B. Iſaac Caſaubon, in his fine exercitations, ſays with great juſtice of this great man;—"qui denique merita ſua in eccleſiam, ſi immoderato partium ſtudio non corrupiſſet, dignus erat ſine controverſia, cui omnes et veteres et recentiores, qui illam eruditionis partem attigerunt, aſſurgerent, et faſces ſubmitterent. Sed vir eruditiſſimus quando ad ſcriptionem ſe accingebat, de approbanda fide ſua ex aequo omnibus, ſicuti par erat fidelem hiſtoricum, adeo nihil cogitavit; ut contra, [353] id ſummo ſtudio videatur egiſſe ne, qui in negotio religionis alia ſequebantur caſtra ullum uſquam aequitatis veſtigium in ſuis ſcriptis reperirent. Adeo in defenſione illarum partium quas probabat, totus eſt ubique hiſtoriam profeſſus, non ſolum theologum, ſed etiam perſaepe diſputatorem è ſchola agit. Locos communes, a narratione hiſtorica digrediens, ſaepiſſime contexit; Proteſtantes paſſim nullo diſcrimine, convitiis, maledictis et infandis calumniis inceſſit. Jura principum, quae a paucis ſeculis obtentu religionis imminui ceperunt, ita cupide, quoties datur occaſio, contrahit, arrodit, evertit, ut natum in regno noſcere nequeas; educatum, altum et auctum Romae facile agnoſcas. Denique ita ſe geſſit Baronius totis 12 ſuorum annalium tomis, ut qui dubitari nollet, praecipium ſibi ſcopum fuiſſe, papalem monarchiam ſtabilire, amplificare, et ad coelum uſque evehere." This is a juſt character of the annals of Baronius. The beſt edition of this work, is the Engliſh tranſlation of it by Hall, doctor of the Sorbonne. It is not only preferable to the French, Italian, and every other tranſlation, but far better than the original Latin, on account of Hall's corrections, and moſt learned notes and diſſertations.

Account of the centuries of Magdebourg. N. B. After all, however, the centuries of Magdebourg, which were publiſhed in 1559 and 1560, are the valuable body of eccleſiaſtical hiſtory. Baronius, who pretended to anſwer them by his annals, is undoubtedly the fineſt writer; but the miniſters, Matthias Flaccius, Jean Vigand, Matthew le Judin, Baſil Faber, Nicholas Gallus, and Andrew Corvin, are the learned men to whom we are indebted for the nobleſt collection of hiſtorical truths in eccleſiaſtical affairs, that ever appeared in the world. They are honeſt writers indeed. Every page of their work diſcovers a zeal for truth, and the glory of Chriſt; while Baronius ſadly labours for a pontifex maximus, and the cheats of Rome. The work of the centuriators extends to the 13th century, and every century contains 16 chapters: the 1ſt is a ſummary of the things to be recited; then the 2d treats of the place and extent of the church; 3, of perſecution [354] and peace; 4, of doctrine; 5, of hereſies; 6, of ceremonies and rites; 7, of polity and government; 8, of ſchiſm; 9, of ſynods; 10, of biſhops; 11, of heretics; 12, of martyrs; 13, of miracles; 14, of the Jews; 15, of religions ſeparated from the church; and 16, of broils and political changes. In this clear and diſtinct manner are the things of every age treated.

N. B. Baronius aſcribes the guidance and ſucceſs of his pen in writing his annals, to the favor of the moſt holy Mary, the mother of God. To her, from whom I acknowledge the whole to be received, I offer theſe annals, etc: To her by whom the whole of this gift comes to us from God, to the moſt holy Virgin, the moſt ſafe ark in which our labours may be kept, and in ſafe cuſtody protected, we offer theſe annals, that ſhe may ſanctify them with her bleſſing, etc, etc;—for the intireneſs of his net, after his having caſt it ſo often, and the continuance of his ſtrength freſh and green in his old age; all was from the grace of Abiſag, their ſhunamite, cheriſhing his aged bones; the moſt holy and pure virgin favouring the work begun, and taking care of, and happily promoting all his affairs, etc, etc. —What muſt a true chriſtian ſay to this?

Many are the abridgments of the annals; but the beſt is that of Henri Sponde, the apoſtate, aforementioned. It is well done.

Account of cardinal Bellarmine. N. B. Bellarmine was born the 4th of October, 1542, and died September 17, 1621, aged 79:—He was a man of great learning in the works of the fathers, councils, canon law, and church hiſtory, and writ ſeveral laboured things: but his chief performance is his Body of Controverſy in 4 volumes folio; which the catholicks think very fine: They ſhew, indeed, great reading; but, ignorance of the ſenſe of ſcripture, and are quite void of argument. There is not one article of popery tolerably well defended in the 4 volumes. Every expoſition and vindication are ſenſeleſs and ridiculous.

[355]

Account of Iſaac Caſaubon. N. B. Iſaac Caſaubon, who writ the Exercitations on Baronius, (and lies in Weſtminſter Abbey) was born Feb. 18, 1559, and died in the 55th year of his age, A. D. 1614.

Beſides his exercitations, he publiſhed ſeveral learned works, and animadverſions and commentaries on Perſius, Polybius, Athenaeus, Strabo, Suetonius, and Diogenes Laertius. It was he firſt publiſhed in Greek, Polyoenus's Stratagems of the Antients in War, in the year 1589; having purchaſed the M. S. at a great price; but the Latin verſion he added to it, was done by Juſtus Vulteius: and we have ſince had a more correct edition of Polyoenus, by Pancratius, in the year 1690. The Epiſtolae Caſauboni are likewiſe valuable things; but of moſt merit are his Exercitations, and his Perſius: His Commentary on Perſius is admirable, not only for a juſt explication of his incomparable author, but for a deal of fine claſſical learning he has ſcattered through it: and for his Exercitations againſt Baronius, the friend of truth muſt be for ever charmed with them. It is to be lamented that we have but 16 of them. They go no farther than to the 34th year of Jeſus Chriſt, and relate principally to Baronius's bad explication of ſcripture.

Two Jeſuits, Boullenger and Jean L'Heureux, writ againſt the Exercitations: but Endemen Jean, the name L'Heureux went by, his defence of Baronius is very weak, as you will ſoon ſee, reader, on turning him over: And as to Julius Caeſar Boullenger, the other monk, when you have read his Diſſertation againſt Caſoubon, and biſhop Montaigue's animadverſions on that diſſertation, you will perceive he was a poor creature.

It is remarkable, that Iſaac Caſaubon's two ſons, Henry and Merric, both went off to popery, and died in France apoſtate prieſts in the Romiſh church; tho' their father had fled from that country for the ſake of the proteſtant religion, and was one of the beſt defenders of the reformed faith. He was one of the judges at the famous conference between Du Pleſſis and Perron: and, by the way, I think it equally remarkable, that the grandſon of the great primate Uſher, and the only remaining [356] perſon of the archbiſhop's family, ſhould be the moſt violent papiſt I ever ſaw. I knew the man in Dublin, and have never heard ſo outragious a catholic as he was. He ſaid, to my aſtoniſhment, that his grandfather was a great light, but burnt with his head downwards in this world, till he dropt into hell in the next.

As to the conference between Du Pleſſis and Perron, about the Euchariſt and other matters, beſides the two pieces I have mentioned, to wit, Perron's account of it, and Mornay's anſwer to the account, you will find a good relation of it in L'Hiſtoire de L'edit de Nantes, tom. 1. p. 343, & Suiv: and ſee on this article Sully's Memoirs.

N. B. The ingenious and excellent Miſs Mornay, of Shelford-Park, is deſcended from the great Philip Mornay Du Pleſſis, and the laſt of the houſe of Du Pleſſis now living. Her grandfather, Jacques de Mornay, was great grandſon to Du Pleſſis Mornay, and came over to England on the revocation of the edict of Nantes, in the year 1685.

Of the edict of Nantz. N. B. Lewis the 14th, with the ſame hand that ſigned the edict of revocation, likewiſe ſigned an order for eighty thouſand mercileſs dragoons and other troops, to march againſt his proteſtant ſubjects, and force them, by plundering and torturing, to turn papiſts.

I ſay with the ſame hand, becauſe the 12th article of the edict ſigned by this cruel and perfidious prince, in the 43d year of his reign, is as follows:—12. And furthermore, Thoſe of the ſaid pretended reformed religion, till ſuch time as it ſhall pleaſe God to illuminate them, may abide in the towns, and places of our kingdom, countries and lands of our dominion, and continue their traffick, and enjoy their goods, without being moleſted or hindered, on account of the ſaid pretended reformed religion, provided they do not aſſemble to exerciſe it, etc.—This was a monſtrous cheat and perfidiouſneſs, to deceive and enſnare his poor ſubjects. Something might be ſaid for the edict of revocation, if Lewis had declared, that to quell the agitations of his conſcience, he muſt revoke the edict of Nantes, tho' [357] he had ſworn to the obſervation of it; but he allowed a certain time to his proteſtant ſubjects, after which they muſt either turn catholicks, or quit the kingdom, with their families and effects, or elſe they ſhould be expoſed to ſuch and ſuch treatment.—This had been plain and honeſt dealing, tho' an arbitrary proceeding: but to give it under his hand to his ſubjects, that they might ſtay and continue their traffick, enjoy their goods without being moleſted, or hindered on account of their religion; and at the ſame time leave them to the mercy of the dragoons:—Was not this an heinous act? Had he been guilty of this ſingle one only, (ſays Laval, in his excellent hiſtory of the Reformation of France, vol. 6.) it would have imprinted ſuch a ſpot on his reputation, that all the waters of the Seine were not ſufficient to waſh it away.

The edict of Nantz was granted to the reformed by Henry the 4th, in the 9th year of his reign, of grace 1598.

[350]
*

So Marbais, a doctor of divinity, who knew this pope well, aſſures us, Nic. de Marbais requeſte a l'empereur, p. 223. Leyde 1613.

Leo XI. reigned but twenty-five days.
(31).
Theodore Agrippa Aubigne, the favorite of Henry the 4th, was born in the year 1550, and died 1631, aged 80. He writ ſeveral curious things: but his great and principal work is his Univerſal Hiſtory, in 3 toms folio: containing the tranſactions from 1550 to 1601. —This is a very extraordinary hiſtory, and contains many curious relations that are no where elſe to be found.—He was obliged to fly France on account of this hiſtory, and died at Geneva.—His two ſatyrs, called La Confeſſion de Sancy—and Le Baron de Foeneſte, are fine things.—The Avantures of the Baron de Foeneſte, (du Chat's edition) are likewiſe well worth reading: The beſt edition is à Cologne, 1729, 2 vols. in 12mo.—It is a very curious thing.
(32.).

The great Joſeph Scaliger was born Aug. 4. 1544, and died at Leyden the 21ſt of January, in the 65th year of his age, A. D. 1609. His father, Julius Caeſar Scaliger, died in the 75th year of his age, October 21, 1558.

His father was a papiſt: the ſon a proteſtant. They were both great men in the republic of letters, and both writ many books: but the ſon was by far the greateſt man.

What I like beſt of the father's works, are his poeticks. — His account of the Latin tongue — and his exercitations againſt Cardan. Theſe are fine pieces. His prohlems on Aulus Gellius is likewiſe a good thing.

The works of Joſeph the ſon, are as follow — Commentarii in appendicem Virgilii.— Notae in librum Varronis de re ruſtica. — Conjecturae in Varronem de lingua Latina. — Caſtigationes in Valerium Flaccum. — Notae in Tertullianum de Pallio, cum tractatur de equinoctiis.—Loci cujuſdam Galeni difficillimi explicatio. — Elenchus Tribaereſii Nicolai Serarii. — Confutatio ejuſdem Serarii animadverſorum in Scaligerum. — Caſtigationes et notae in Euſebii chronica. — Theſaurus temporum. —Elenchus utriuſque orationis chronologicae Davidis Paraei.—Conjectanea de Nonni Dionyſtaticis. — Notae in opera Auſonii.— Emendatio temporum. — Veterum Graecorum fragmenta. — Cyclometrica elementa duo. — Appendix ad Cyclometriam ſuam. — Auſoniarum lectionum libri duo. [360] —Emendationes ad Theocriti, etc. Idyllia. — Notae in Hippocratem. — Notae et caſtigationes in Tibullum, Catullum, Propertium. —Epiſtolarum volumen. — Commentarii in Manilium. — Animadverſiones in Melchioris Guillandini commentarium in tria Plinii de papyro capita. — Epiſtola adverſus barbarum et indoctum poema patroni clientis Lucani.—Diatriba de decimis in lege Dei. — Notitia Galliae. — Diatriba de Europaeorum linguis, etc. — Judicium de quadam Theſi chronologica. — Expoſitio numiſmatis argenter Conſtantini imperatoris. — Orphei poetae hymni ſacri verſibus antiquis Latine expreſſi.— Martialis ſelect. epigram. Verſiones Graece. — Sophoclis Ajax characteri vetere converſus. — In Aeſchyli Prometheum prologus. — Animadverſiones in epigrammata, etc. Cornelii Galli. — Animadverſiones in Cyclopem Euripidis. — Dionyſius Cato cum nótis. — De equinoctiorum anticipatione diatriba. — Varia poemata Latina. — Poemata Graeca verſa ex Latino, etc. —Notae in panegyricum ad Piſones. — Caſtigatio kalendarii Gregoriani. — Interpretatio proverbiorum Arabicorum cum ſcholiis. — De arte critica diatriba. — Notae in novum teſtamentum. — Hyppoliti canon paſchalis, cum commentariis. — De re nummaria diſſertatio. — Diſcours de la jonction des mers, etc. — Diſcours ſur milice Romaine. — Lettres touchant l'explication de quelques medailles.—Praefatio in origines linguae Latinae. — Scaligerana.—Epiſtola in Fabrium Paulinum. — Animadverſiones in locos controverſos Roberti Titii. — Vita Julii Ceſaris Scaligeri cum epiſtola de vetuſtate et ſplendore gentis Scaligera.

Theſe are the works of Joſeph Scaliger, and in them one meets with ſo various and fine an erudition, and [361] ſo much valuable criticiſm, that if the reader of fortune will take my advice, he will get them all into his cloſet as ſoon as poſſible; and at the ſame time, the four excellent pieces I have mentioned of Julius Ceſar Scaliger, the father of Joſeph.

N. B. The great Lewis Cappel, author of the aſſertion of the true faith, was a proteſtant miniſter at Saumur. He was born October 14, 1583, and died at Saumur, the 16th of June, 1568, aged 75. He was likewiſe the author of that excellent book called, Arcanum punctuationis revelatum; and of another very valuable thing, called Critica Sacra.

His ſon, Jean Cappel, turned papiſt, and died a deſpicable apoſtate in the Romiſh church.

N. B. There were two other Cappels, proteſtant miniſters; both Jacques, who died in 1585 — and 1624, and were the authors of ſeveral controverſial writings againſt popery: but they were weak writers in reſpect of the learned Louis Cappel.

[359]
(33).

In Penpark-hole you are let down by ropes fixed at the top of the pit, four fathom perpendicular, and then deſcend three fathom more, in an oblique way, between two rocks, which brings you to a perpendicular tunnel, 39 yards down, into which you deſcend by ropes, and land in a ſpacious chamber, that is 75 yards in length, 41 in breadth, and 19 yards high, from the margin of a great water, at the north end of it, to the roof. This water is 27 yards in length, 12 in breadth, and generally 16 deep. It is ſweet, bright, and good drink. It riſes ſometimes ſeveral feet, and at other times ſinks two feet below its uſual depth. The torches always burn clear in this chamber, nor is the air in the leaſt offenſive, tho' 59 yards from the ſurface of the earth, and ſeparated from the day by ſuch deep tunnels, and an oblique deſcent between them. The great tunnel is about 3 yards wide, and in the ſouth ſide of it 30 yards down, 9 yards before you come to the opening of the chamber, or cavity below, is a paſſage 32 yards in length, 3 and a half high, and 3 yards broad. It is the habitation of bats, and towards the end of it, a ſloping hole goes to ſome other place. This paſſage, and the tunnels, and the chamber below, is all irregular work.

(34).

Pools-hole, a little mile weſt of Buxton-wells in Derbyſhire, is in the whole length, from the entrance to the fartheſt aſcent, but 230 yards. The account of this in Camden is very imperfect, and next to nothing: and what the authors of the Tour through Great-Britain ſay of it, even in their 5th edition, in the year 1753, only ſhews to one who has been there, and carefully examined it, that neither Daniel Defoe, nor thoſe ſince concerned in improving and correcting the four volumes of the Tour, ever were in the inſide of Pool's-hole. Their deſcription of this, like a thouſand other places in thoſe volumes, is mere imagination (with ſome things from Cotton's falſe account) and the fancy not only wrong, but very bad.—I would deſcribe it here, but that the reader will find me in Derbyſhire before I take my leave of him, if death does not prevent, and I ſhall then give a full and true hiſtory of this high and rough country; its waters, curioſities, and antiquities: — At preſent, I ſhall only obſerve, to abate the wonder of my paſſing from the bottom of the inſide of one of the Richmond mountains to the plain on the top of it, that [368] the hill in which is Pool's-hole is open within ſide, in the aſcent, ſo far, that 5 yards more of aperture would bring one to the outſide of the top: and I believe it is very poſſible for art to make an entrance that way, as nature has done at the bottom.

[367]
(35).

Little did I think when I talked in ſuch a manner to Miſs Harcourt againſt the famous ſymbol, that I ſhould ever find in the book of a moſt learned man an excellent divine, the ſame kind of arguments ſeriouſly produced in favor of the Creed of St. Athanaſius: yet this ſtrange thing has time brought on, and thereby convinced the world, that the greateſt learning and the moſt exalted piety, employed in the cauſe of myſtery, can become ſo extravagant and erring as to mentain that a thing incomprehenſible to human reaſon, can be revealed, and that the more incomprehenſible it is to human reaſon, and the more ſenſeleſs it appears to human underſtanding, the more glorious is the object of faith, and the more worthy to be believed by a chriſtian. This deplorable argument for the truth of chriſtianity I met with in a book lately publiſhed by an admirable man, Dr. Joſeph Smith, provoſt of Queen's-college, Oxon. In his third ſection of a clear and comprehenſive view of the being, nature, and attributes of God, from p. 61, to p. 78. the reader may ſee this plea for darkneſs, confuſion, and implicit faith. He will find an anſwer to it in the appendix to this journal. No. 2.

(36).

The texts produced by Miſs Harcourt, the next day, in a ſheet of paper, ſhe gave me, and my written explication of them in anſwer, the reader will find in the appendix to this journal, No. 3. I ſatisfied her, that the letter of ſcripture was not full in favor of contradiction, and that where it had any appearance of being ſo, reaſon allowed the pureſt modeſty to uſe ſome freedom in interpreting, and take the texts in a lower meaning: — ſuch a liberty as proteſtants take with the words... this is my body... when they reject the doctrine of tranſubſtantiation. By this means I made a convert of her. This lady became a ſtrict Chriſtian-Deiſt.

(37.).

As the firſt notion of God's glory, in the ſcripture, is a phyſical notion, and ſignifies the manifeſtation of God, by fire, light, clouds, brightneſs, and other meteorous ſymbols, ſuch as the marching pillars of fire and cloud that went before the Iſraelites, and the Shechinah in the Holy of Holies, which the Jews called the viſible preſence; ſo is there a glory of God in a moral ſignification. There is a Shechinah in a phyſical ſenſe by fire, light, and refracted colours: and there is a moral Shechinah, or glory, when men live in obedience to all the divine laws, and walk as children of light. This ſhews the ſpecial preſence of God in the righteous, as much as the cloud of glory did manifeſt him in the temple. The power and wiſdom and goodneſs of God are diſplayed in the holy lives of men. Like the heavens they declare his glory, and are the viſible epiſtle of Chriſt to the world, written not with ink, but with the ſpirit of the Living God. Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that his Spirit dwelleth in you?

(38.).

As Mrs. Harcourt's pencil has illuſtrated the revelation of St. John, in a more ſatisfactory way than I have ſeen in any commentator, and gives in particular [397] a ſtriking view of popery in her pictures, I ſhall give the reader an account of the other pieces in another place. You will find them among other curious things in the appendix to this journal.

[396]
(39).

The weakneſs of tradition. When the tribes went off from Noah in Peleg's days, in the aera of the deluge 240, that is, ſo many years after the flood, we muſt in reaſon ſuppoſe, that they had from the venerable patriarch, a final and farewel relation of the creation, and the ſtate of innocency, and the fall; the inſtitution of worſhip; and the hope of acceptance, and the promiſed ſeed. We may believe they had, at going off, a diſtinct repetition of all the capital articles of their faith. They received to be ſure a clear review of the facts and revelations which Adam and Noah had the knowledge of, and in a compend of every doctrine and duty, ſpeculative and practical, eſpecially the doctrine of the being of a God, his unity [422] and perfections, had a ſufficient fund of uſeful knowledge to ſet up with, in the new world. This is natural behaviour in all good parents, and we may conclude, that the pious patriarch acted in this manner, when he ſent his relations away. But this oral tradition was liable to a gradual declenſion, and ſunk at laſt into a ſtate of evaneſcence. Doctrines deduced from facts long ſince paſt, and known by tradition only, become precarious. The tradition is rendered obſcure and dubious. It might remain pretty perfect, while Peleg, Reu, Serug, Nabor, and Terah, lived, as they had their informations from Noah, and were thoroughly adviſed to make God the object of their ſupreme love and fear, and truſt and worſhip; and to practiſe all virtue and righteouſneſs towards each other, as the great inſtruments and means of a general happineſs. With an earneſt tenderneſs, theſe things were recomended to them. But as the people who came after them never ſaw Noah, and their information depended on relators, who had it from relators, a dimneſs prevailed upon the antient facts, and diſtance and other objects overſhadowed them. A depravation of tradition might likewiſe ariſe from relators forgetting material circumſtances, and from a miſapprehenſion of antient facts. There might likewiſe be many that deſignedly corrupted theſe facts, and out of a diſlike to truth, and a diſtaſte to virtue, did their beſt to weaken the principles of religion. Ingenious bad men there were among mankind then as well as in our time, and as there was no written ſyſtem and hiſtory to go by, they might give the antient ſtory a turn more favourable to ſinners. By this means, contradiction and obſcurity came on, endleſs fables were introduced, and truth was diſguiſed, corrupted and loſt.

[423]

In reſpect however of an infinite mind, the author of the univerſe, it muſt be confeſſed that thoſe men could not have loſt a right notion of him, if they had been faithful to themſelves: for the works of nature ſtill remained in all their wondrous beauty, and uſeful order, and furniſhed daily evidence, that neither chance, nor undeſigning neceſſity, could produce, the beautiful and harmonious, the regular and convenient, the amiable and good, which their eyes beheld whatever way they turned. Not only the heavens, the air, the earth, the ſea, demonſtrated the wiſdom and goodneſs of God; but every beaſt, every fowl, every fiſh they could take, every plant and tree, ſhewed an exact proportion of parts, and diſcovered deſign in the whole of its conſtitution. Their own intelligence ought likewiſe to have led them to the great Original it was formed by, an uncreated mind. There muſt be a divine underſtanding, or there never could be pure intellection in man. It is impoſſible to ſolve the phaenomena of moral entities, without the being of God. If it were poſſible for atoms, rencountring in an infinite void, to produce by colliſion and undirected impulſe, the corporeal ſyſtems, and the various beauteous forms which we ſee; yet the wild and ſenſeleſs hypotheſis could not be applied by atheiſm itſelf to the production of ideas intirely independent of matter, and all its properties and powers. We muſt have them from an intelligent cauſe. The human mind is ſo framed, that we may ſurely infer the cauſe of the conſtitution was ntelligent. So that God did not, in any age, leave himſelf without witneſs, or evidence, of his own being and perfection. We have full proof of creating, ruling intelligence. All the works of nature proclaim it, and eſpecially the human ſoul.

[424]

But through negligence, and falſe notions of religion brought in by impious men, corrupt cuſtoms, and prejudices of education, we find that not only virtue was loſt, ſoon after the diſperſion, but even the notion of God. Idolatry and wickedneſs prevailed for the greateſt part of the grand period of tradition, from the diſperſion to the imparting the knowledge of letters by Moſes. This ſhews the folly, vanity, and inconſiſtency of all tradition, and that for the ſupport of virtue, and true religion in the world, a written word is neceſſary. In the early ages of the poſtdiluvian world, religious knowledge was decayed, and we can trace the origin and beginning of idolatry very high. Even in Serug's time, (who had received a compend of religion from Noah), when he became infirm by years, and was no longer able to inſpect the manners of his colony, and go about to take cognizance of their irregularities, we find the innovation had begun. We read in the books, that Terah, the father of Abraham was an idolater, in the 170th year of his age, which was the year that Serug died, and to be ſure, that was not the firſt year of his falſe religion: and it is not to be ſuppoſed, that when he went forth, a worſhiper of falſe gods, from Ur of the Chaldees, with Abraham, his ſon, and Lot, etc. that the young people were ſafe from the infection. It prevailed before Abraham was warned to withdraw, and of conſequence he was one of the ungodly, that is an idolater. To me it is plain St. Paul ſays ſo. They all ſerved other gods. In all probability, that was beginning to be the caſe when Abraham was born, which was in the year after the flood 352; and as he was forty years old when his father marched him from Ur, we may think he was then a ſettled idolater: and if it had not been that the divine mercy called him by revelation to true-religion, he and the whole [425] world might have remained in their groſs innovation, eternal ſtrangers to the original truths. The free grace of the univerſal Father took him and his poſterity into covenant, and uſed them as a mean to reſtore true piety and virtue to the world, till ſuch time as he was pleaſed to ſhew his aſtoniſhing mercy, and ineſtimable love in Chriſt Jeſus. The Creator and Governor of Gentiles as well as Jews, in his infinite wiſdom, proceeded in this manner, firſt ſelecting one nation to be a beacon upon a hill, a public voucher of the being and providence of God; and in the fulneſs of time, bleſſing the human race with a goſpel and Redeemer. Adored be his goodneſs then for the written word. This only can preſerve the doctrine of religion free from corruption. The miſerable papiſts may truſt to their traditions, and wander where no covenant is to be found: but the religion of proteſtants muſt be the goſpel of Chriſt. The written doctrine of the apoſtles let us receive. The unwritten word of Rome let us deſpiſe. There is no ſecurity in tradition. It is inſufficient for the preſervation of truth: and for that reaſon, God gave us the writings of inſpired men.

[421]
(40).

Eraſmus, Grotius, Limborch, Baxter, and Dodwell, were great and excellent men, and their lives and writings very highly merit the conſideration of gentlemen.

Eraſmus was born at Rotterdam, October 28, in the year 1466, and died of a bloody flux at Baſil, the 12th of July, in the year 1536, aged 70.

Joh. Manlius in locorum communium collectaneis. Edit. Francf. ad Maen. in 8. 1568. has this paſſage: — Eraſmus Roterodamus moriturus ſaepe ingeminavit hanc vocem, Domine, Domine fac finem, fac finem, ſed quid voluerit dicere non poſſum. Manlius was with Eraſmus in his laſt hour.

Froben publiſhed an edition of all the works of Eraſmus at Bale, in nine volumes in folio, in 1540. The [454] firſt, ſecond, and fourth, contain his philoſophical, rhetorical, and grammatical pieces, his colloquies, and praiſe of folly: the third, his epiſtles, which are very fine, and many of them relate to the affairs of the church: the fifth, his books of piety: the ſixth, his verſion of the New Teſtament, with notes: the ſeventh, his paraphraſes on the New Teſtament: the eighth, his tranſlations of ſome Greek fathers: the ninth, which is the largeſt, his apologies. His New Teſtament, letters, and colloquies, are the moſt valuable of his works. The preface to his paraphraſe on the goſpel of St. Matthew is an admirable thing. An Engliſh tranſlation of it, with notes, and a good preliminary diſcourſe addreſſed to the catholics, was printed for Cooper in Pater-noſter Row, 1749.

Bayle ſays of Eraſmus, that he was one of thoſe witneſſes for the truth, who were wiſhing for a reformation in thechuch, but who did not think it was to be procured by erecting another ſociety to be ſupported by leagues, and that ſhould paſs immediately a verbis ad verbera, from words to blows.

Eraſmus ſpeaking of his contemporary Luther, ſays, — had all that he wrote been good, his ſeditious freedom would ſtill have been diſagreeable to me. I would rather ſubmit to ſome errors than raiſe a civil war, and put the whole world in an uproar for the ſake of truth.

But in vain did Eraſmus live and die in the Romiſh communion, and undergo many reflexion from ſome zealot proteſtants; he was not the leſs ill treated both during his life, and after his death, by ſeveral catholic writers; for, tho' taking all things together, Eraſmus was what they called a catholic; yet his colloquies [455] ſhew his hatred of the monks, and it was plain from his writings and behaviour, that he did not ſee without joy the firſt ſteps of Luther.

His inſcription at Rotterdam is this:

DESIDERIO ERASMO MAGNO SCIENTIARUM ATQUE LITERATURAE POLITIORIS VINDICI ET INSTAURATORI VIRO SUI SAECULI PRIMARIO CIVI OMNIUM PRAESTANTISSIMO AC NOMINIS IMMORTALITATEM SCRIPTIS AEVITERNIS JURE CONSECUTO. S. P. Q. ROTTERDAM. NE QUOD TANTIS APUD SE SUOSQUE POSTEROS VIRTUTIBUS PRAEMIUM DRESSET STATUAM HANC EX AERE PUBLICO ERIGENDAM CURAVERUNT.

BARBARIAE TALEM SE DEBELLATUR ERASMUS MAXIMA LAUS BATAVI NOMINIS ORE TULIT REDDIDIT EN! FATIS ARS OBLUCTATA SINISTRIS, DE TANTO SPOLIUM NACTA QUOD URNA VIRO EST INGENII COELESTE JUBAR MAJUSQUE CADUCO TEMPORE QUI REDDAT SOLUS ERASMUS ERIT.

The following epitaph is on a marble ſtone in the cathedral at Baſil, where he was buried.

[456] ‘CHRISTO SERVATORI. S. DES. ERASMO ROTTERODAMO. VIRO OMNIBUS MODIS MAXIMO, CUJUS INCOMPARABILEM IN OMNI DISCIPLINARUM GENERE ERUDITIONEM PARI CONJUNCTAM PRUDENTIA POSTERI ET ADMIRABUNTUR ET PRAEDICABUNT; BONIFACIUS AMERBACHIUS, HIER. FROBENIUS, NIC. EPISCOPIUS, HAEREDES ET NUNCUPATI SUPREMAE SUAE VOLUNTATIS VINDICES, PATRONO OPTIMO NON MEMORIAE QUAM IMMORTALEM SIBI EDITIS LUCUBRATIONIBUS COMPARAVIT, IIS TANTISPER DUM ORBIS TERRARUM STABIT SUPERFUTURO AC ERUDITIS UBIQUE GENTIUM COLLOQUU TURO, SED CORPORIS MORTALIS QUO RECONDITUM SIT ERGO HOC SAXUM POSUERE. MORTUUS EST IV. EID. JUL. JAM SEPTUAGENARIUS, ANN. A CHRISTO NATO M.D.XXXVI.’

Above this epitaph is the device and ſeal of Eraſmus, to wit, TERMINUS, the god of bounds, and the words—

‘CONCEDO NULLI.’

The moſt learned men of Europe did likewiſe write epitaphs on Eraſmus.

Cognatus, that is, Gilbert le Couſin made the following one —

Magnus Roterodamus ille noſter
Haec quo ſaecula neminem tulerunt
Majorem, neque priſca clariorem
[457]
Norunt tempora, nec cui futura
Parem poſteritas habebit: ecce
Sub hoc marmore mortuus quieſcit.

But that of Louis Maſius is one of the moſt ingenious:

Fatalis ſeries nobis invidit Eraſmum;
Sed Deſiderium tollere non potuit.

Reader, tho' the edition of the works of Eraſmus which I have mentioned is a good one, yet that of Le Clerc in 11 volumes folio, at Leyden, in 1703, is much finer.

Grotius, the ſon of Jean de Groot was born at Delft in Holland, the 10th of April, 1583, and died at Roſtock in Mecklenbourgh, Sept. 8, 1645, aged 62.

He writ the following books —

Annotationes in totam ſcripturam ſacram.— De jure belli ac pacis, libri tres. — De veritate religionis chriſtianae, libri ſex. — Mare liberum againſt Selden's mare clauſum. — De antiquitate reipublicae Batavicae. — De imperio ſummarum poteſtatum circa ſacra. — Annales et hiſtoriae de rebus Belgicis. — Hiſtoria Gothorum, Vandalorum et Longobardorum. — Annotationes in totam ſcripturam ſacram. — De ſatisfactione Chriſti adverſus Socinum. — Apologeticus. — Poemata. — Pietas ordinum Hollandiae. — De coenae adminiſtratione ubi paſtores non ſunt. — An ſemper communicandum ſit per ſymbola. — Epiſtolae, etc. — Portuum inveſtigandorum ratio. — Syntagma arateorum. — Notae in Lucani Pharſalium.—Florilegium Stobaei. — Notae breves ad jus Juſtinianum. — Notae breves et emendationes in Cornelium Tacitum. — Pontifex Romanus, rex Galliarum, rex Hiſpaniarum, Albertus cardinalis, [458] regina Angliae, Omnes foederati. — Adamus exul et Chriſtus patiens.

There is a great deal of fine learning in theſe books: but the moſt valuable of them are the three firſt mentioned. His annotations — De jure — and, truth of the Chriſtian religion, cannot be ſufficiently praiſed, nor enough admired.

A late writer of this great man's life, (De Burigny, a bigotted papiſt) ſays, Grotius died a member of the church of Rome, and in a ſad and ridiculous manner ſtrains ſome lines of this excellent writer to prove it. — He was to be ſure one of thoſe moderate proteſtants, who wiſhed there could be a reconciliation between Rome and us: — and the very hard meaſure he had from the proteſtant government of his country, while he was treated by the Romiſh princes with the higheſt honours and encouragements, were great temptations to leave the reformed: but he never did turn popiſt, whatever this hot Romiſh biographer may affirm. Voſſius, and Reigerſberg, his brother-in-law, writ to him upon the ſubject, and he anſwered them in the following manner. — Puiſque j'ai eu aſſez de courage, pour ſouffrir la priſon, je ſpporterai auſſi l'exil, la pauvreté, & le mepris, a l'imitation de celui qui aima mieux ſouffrin avec le peuple de Dieu, qu'etre appellé le fils de la fille de Pharaon. This was to Voſſius. — and then to Reigerſberg. — Je repons ouvertment a ceux qui me parlent de religion que j'adhere toujours aux egliſes dont j'etois membre avant mon empriſonnement. D'ailleurs j'ai ſoins de ne point offenſer ceux de l'Egliſe Romaine, & d'entretenir une bonne correſpondence avec ceux qui le ſonhaitent. — This demonſtrates that Grotius did not turn: and for farther ſatisfaction, ſee G. [459] Brandt. hiſt. de la reformation. tom. 2. p. 307.— What epithet then does that papiſt De Burigny deſerve?

The great and good R. Baxter was a nonconformiſt divine, who ſuffered much by the ſeverity of that cruel monſter of a man, lord chief juſtice Jefferies, in a proſecution, in Eaſter Term, 1685, on account of ſome paſſages in his paraphraſe on the New Teſtament. He was confined in the King's-Bench priſon from the beginning of the year 1685, to the 24th of November 1686; when, by the mediation of Lord Powis, he obtained a pardon from King James, and was diſcharged out of priſon.

The paſſages picked out by Sir Roger l'Eſtrange, were his explications of Matth. v. 19. — Mark ix. 39.—Mark xi. 31.—Mark xii. 38, 39, 40. — Luke x. 2. — John xi. 57. and Act xv. 2.

Dr. South likewiſe, (as I have heard) put into his enemies hands ſome accuſations out of Rom. xiii. The charge was, that his paraphraſe on theſe places reflected on the prelates of the church of England, and ſo he was guilty of ſedition: but equity at this day can find no ſuch reflexion or ſedition in the paſſages.

Mr. Baxter was born November 12, 1615, at Rowton in South Bradford: and died at his houſe in Charter-houſe-yard, the 8th of December, 1691, aged 76. He was an author 52 years, and in that time writ 145 diſtinct treatiſes; whereof four were folios, 73 quartos, 49 octavos, and 19 in twelves and twenty-fours; beſides ſingle ſheets, ſeparate ſermons, and prefaces before other men's writings. He began with aphoriſms of juſtification, in 1649, in his 34th year; and ended with the certainty of the world of ſpirits, in 1691; the year he died.

[460]

Few can be perſuaded, I imagine, in theſe days of pleaſure, in this age of Vauxhalls and Ranelaghs * , to [461] ſit down to read all that Baxter writ: but moſt certainly, the following books in Engliſh, of his compoſing, are very good ones: — The ſaints everlaſting [462] reſt. A call to the unconverted. — Dying thoughts —certainty of the world of ſpirits: and his paraphraſe on the New Teſtament.

His Latin pieces are theſe De catechiſatione domeſtica. — Aphoriſmi de juſtificatione et foederibus. — Apologia. — Libellus rationum pro religione chriſtiana contra Gaſſendum et Habeſium. — Epiſtola de generali omnium proteſtantium unione adverſus papatum. — Diſſertatio de baptiſmo infantium. — Directiones de reformatione eccleſiae. — De religione Grotiana adverſus Piercium. — De jure ſacramentorum. — Gildas Salvianus, ſive paſtor reformatus. — Catechiſmus quackerianus. — Clavis catholicorum. — De regimine eccleſiae.—De univerſali redemptione contra Calvinum et Bezam.— De rep. ſancta. — Hiſtoria conciliorum.

Phitip de Limborch, a remonſtrant divine, and profeſſor of theology, was born the 19th of June, 1633, and died the laſt day of April, 1712, aged 79.

[463]

The chriſtian world is greatly obliged to this learned and excellent man for the following fine books by him written.

  • 1. Syſteme complet de la theologie, that is, a body of divinity; which has been tranſlated into Engliſh.
  • 2. Collatio amica de veritate religionis chriſtianae, cum erudito Judaeo. — At the end of this, is an account of Uriel Acoſta, a Portugueſe deiſt, who had been a Jew, and Limborch's defence of chriſtianity againſt Acoſta's objections. This remarkable life and defence of reveled religion were tranſlated into Engliſh in the year 1740, and makes a ſhilling pamphlet, which you may get at Mr. Whiſton's ſhop. But the collatio has not been publiſhed in Engliſh by any one: at leaſt I never ſaw ſuch a thing: and for this reaſon, I have begun a tranſlation of it, and intend to finiſh it, with many notes on the arguments of the two diſputants; if death, or ſickneſs, does not hinder.
  • 3. L'Hiſtoire de ce terrible tribunal l'inquiſition; that is,
    Mr. Chandler's tranſlation of Limborch's hiſtory of the inquiſition.
    the hiſtory of the inquiſition. This was tranſlated into Engliſh by Mr. Samuel Chandler, a diſſenting miniſter; who prefixed, in an introduction, a hiſtory of perſecution, that cannot be ſufficiently praiſed, or enough admired. The hiſtory and introduction were publiſhed in a large quarto, London, 1731: and the introduction was afterwards printed in octavo.

Account of ſome other pieces written by Mr. Chandler. This gentleman is ſtill living, and greatly to be honoured, on account of ſeveral other excellent writings, in defence of the true goſpel of Chriſt, and true piety: his vindication of the hiſtory of the Old Teſtament againſt Dr. Morgan. — His diſcourſe of the nature and uſe of miracles; and anſwer to Mr. Collins's grounds — His [464] re-examination of the witneſſes of the reſurrection Reader, on the ſubject called the reſurrection of Jeſus, read firſt biſhop Sherlock's trial of the witneſſes, and Tipping's defence of the trial: then take up Mr. Chandler's piece; and when you have ſeriouſly read it, ſee what the biſhop of Rocheſter, Dr. Pearce, ſays on this ſubject in the firſt part of his four diſcourſes on the miracles; add to them, Grove's ſermon on the reſurrection; and I imagine, theſe fine little pieces will give you ſatisfaction: if a doubt ſhould ſtill remain, open Mr. Weſt's fine book on the article, and I think you will be eaſy as to this point. Reduce the ſtrength of what they all ſay to a few written arguments, and keep them for uſe. .— His commentary on Joel — His two ſermons called the notes of the church, in the ſecond volume of the Salters-Hall ſermons againſt popery — His ſermon on ſuperſtition: and two funeral ſermons: one on the death of Dr. Hadfield, For the wages of ſin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life, through Jeſus Chriſt our Lord. Rom. vi. 23. — The other on the death of Mr. Smyth. Who ſhall change our vile body, that it may be faſhioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able to ſubdue all things to himſelf. Phil. iii. 21. — Theſe are fine pieces; well written; with a ſenſe and ſpirit, that renders all Mr. Chandler's performances very valuable; and therefore, they highly merit the attentive reading of every gentleman. Some other things written by this miniſter, I mentioned in my memoirs of ſeveral ladies of Great-Britain, p. 73. to which I refer you, reader.

  • 4. Commentarius in acta apoſtolorum at in epiſtolas ad Romanos et Hebraeos. Folio.

This is one of the moſt valuable books in chriſtian learning; — ſtrong and beautiful; juſt and rational. Let it ſtand next your bible in your ſtudy, and when [465] you ſit down to the acts of the apoſtles, and the epiſtles to the Romans and Hebrews, let Limborch's commentary be open before you, and you will be improved and charmed.

Of Dr. Sykes's writings. Let me likewiſe adviſe you, reader, to open, at the ſame time, Dr. Sykes on the Hebrews; a glorious performance; and his moſt excellent book on redemption: theſe two have been publiſhed very lately. Dr. Sykes is a divine. By the way, his eſſay upon the truth of thechriſtian religion, is one of the beſt, (if not the beſt) of all the good things that have been publiſhed for revelation; and his connexion and diſcourſe on the miracles, are admirable.

See likewiſe his Eſſay on ſacrifices — his true foundations of natural and reveled religion — his two defences of Clarke's expoſition of the catechiſm — his phlegon. — his two previous queſtions — and defence of the two queſtions of Dr. Middleton againſt Dr. Chapman, Dr. Church, and Mr. Dodwell. Theſe, and all his pieces, are delightful, uſeful learning. They illuſtrate revelation, and give a juſt and charming account of the chriſtian religion.

Limborch writ ſome other ſmall things, as letters, prefaces, and eſſays, and among his letters, thoſe to Mr. Locke are excellent: that on liberty or power was too much even for Locke. But the beſt letter he writ to Mr. Locke has not yet been publiſhed, to wit, a letter that gives the hiſtory of his arguments uſed in bringing back an ingenious lady to chriſtianity, who had been converted to judaiſm. It has been ſeen by ſeveral; but what is become of it, no one can tell.

Of Courcelles and Epiſcopius. In 1675, Limborch publiſhed the valuable works of his maſter Etienne de Courcelles, an Arminian divine. — and in 1693, the ſermons of the great Epiſcopius, in a large folio; to which he prefixed not only a fine preface, [266] but a long and curious hiſtory of the life of Epiſcopius. The life was afterwards tranſlated into Latin, and may be had in octavo. It is an admirable thing.

Courcelles was born in the year 1586, and died the 29th of May, 1659, aged 73. He ſucceeded Simon Epiſcopius as paſtor to the church of the remonſtrants in Holland, and was ſucceeded in that charge by Arnold Poelemburg; who writ his life. This life is an excellent thing, but is only to be found at the beginning of his works, publiſhed, as before ſaid, by Limborch, in 1675.

The beſt thing of Courcelles is his quaternio diſſertationum theologicarum: in which he treats, as an able, rational divine, of the trinity, original ſin, the knowledge of Jeſus Chriſt, and juſtification. — The next in value to this, are his inſtitutiones religionis chriſtianae: — Diatribe de eſu ſanguinis: — vindiciae contra Amyraldum: and avis d'un perſonnage deſintereſſe; in which he acted the Mediator between the Calviniſts and Arminians; but without ſucceſs. It is a vain attempt to unite parties. Every party is a church, and infallible in its own conceit. Happy they that are of no party; but devoted to Jeſus Chriſt only, and his plane goſpel; doing their beſt to be pure and good, even as the Lord Jeſus Chriſt was pure and good — and worſhiping God the Father Almighty, in the name of Jeſus, as his diſciples; without ſpeculating, inventing, or perplexing ourſelves with imaginations. This was our Lord's direction. When you pray, ſay, Our Father — whatever ye aſk in my name — without holineſs no man ſhall ſee the Lord. Here it is, gentlemen of the laity, as the doctors call us, and will have us to be an inferior tribe to them. Adhere to theſe few, plain things, and [467] you will be for ever happy, tho' the church damns you by bell, book, and candle-light.

Simon Epiſcopius, a remonſtrant miniſter at Rotterdam, a glorious man, was born in the year 1583, and died of a retention of urine, the 4th of April, 1643, aged 60. His excellent works are three large volumes in folio. Two, in the pureſt Latin, publiſhed by Stephanus Curcellaeus, whom I have given an account of in the preceding article, — and by Arnoldus Poelenburgh, his ſucceſſor.

And the third containing his ſermons, and life by Limborch, as I have ſaid before.

Arnoldus Poelenburgh died in the year 1667, and Limborch ſucceeded him in the paſtoral care of his church.

Arnold was a learned, eloquent, and pious man. His diſſertatio epiſtolaris contra Hoornbeekium — and his examen Theſium Spanhemii, are fine things. His preface to the ſecond volume of Epiſcopius's theological works, is excellent: and in a valuable book called epiſtolae praeſtantium virorum, you will find many letters by Poelenburgh, that are extremely beautiful, in reſpect of the charms of his ſtile, and his judicious manner of treating his ſubjects.

Of Dodwell and his writings. And now as to the learned and pious Henry Dodwell, ſome time fellow of Trinity-College, Dublin, and Camden profeſſor of hiſtory in Oxon, till he loſt it for refuſing to take the oaths to King William; he was born at Dublin, October 1641, and died at Shotteſbrooke, the 7th of June, 1711, aged 70. His works are the following books — 1. Prolegomena ad tractatum Joannis Stearnii de conſtantia in rebus adverſis. — 2. Two letters of advice on going into holy orders, and theological ſtudies, with a tract concerning Sanchoniatho. [468] — 3. Conſiderations of preſent concernment, how far the Romaniſts may be truſted by princes of another perſuaſion. — 4. An account of the fundamental principle of popery, and an anſwer to ſix queries propoſed to a lady by a Romiſh prieſt. — 5. Separation of churches from epiſcopal government ſchiſmatical, and a defence of it. — 6. Diſſertations on St. Cyprian. — 7. A diſſertation on a paſſage of Lactantius. — 8. A treatiſe of the prieſthood of laicks. — 9. Additional diſcourſes to the poſthumous works of Dr. Pearſon, by Dodwell publiſhed.— 10. Diſſertations on Irenaeus. — 11. A vindication of the deprived biſhops, (Sancroft, Lloyd, Turner, Kenn, Frampton, White; to whom ſuceeeded Tillotſon, Moore, Patrick, Kidder, Fowler, Cumberland); and a defence of the vindication.— 12. Four Camdenian lectures, called, praelectiones academica. — 13. The annals of Velleius Paterculus, etc. — An account of the leſſer geographers. — 15. The lawfulneſs of church muſick. — 16. An account of the Greek and Roman cycle. — 17. A letter againſt Toland, relative to the canon of the New Teſtament. — 18. The annals of Thucydides and Zenophon: and an apology for the philoſophical works of Cicero.— 19. A letter on the ſoul to Mr. Layton— and a letter to Dr. Tillotſon on ſchiſm. — 20. Two diſſertations on the age of Phalaris and Pythagoras. — 21. An admonition to foreigners concerning ſchiſm. — 22. An epiſtolary diſcourſe to prove the ſoul a principle naturally mortal, but immortalized by its union with the divine baptiſmal ſpirit;—that the biſhops only can give this immortalizing ſpirit; and that ſacerdotal abſolution is neceſſary for the remiſſion of ſins. — 23. Three treatiſes in defence of the epiſtolary diſcourſe.

Theſe are the works of the learned Dodwell. Some of the pieces are very valuable: — Many of them [469] good for nothing: and all of them written with great perplexity; without any beauty of ſtile, or any order. Dodwell's learning was very great, but beſide the ſingularity of his notions, (which he affected), his learning lay like a lump of puzzeled ſilk in his head, and he could draw few uſeful threads. In the 2d volume of this journal, and in the 2d volume of the memoirs of ſome ladies of Great-Britain, the reader will find ſeveral remarks on Dodwell's pieces.

Note, in the 52d year of Mr. Dodwell's age, he married a very young girl, the daughter of a gentleman, in whoſe houſe he boarded in the country; having been her preceptor for five years, from a regard to her fine underſtanding; and by her had ten children. Two ſons and four daughters ſurvived him, and one of the ſons is the preſent rector of Shottesbrook, well known by the title of orthodox Dodwell, on account of his writings for the fathers againſt Dr. Middleton; and to diſtinguiſh him from the author of a bad book, finely written, called, chriſtianity not founded on argument.

[453]
*

A remark on our little Vauxhalls. Beſide the two grand ſeats of pleaſure, which are filled every evening with coaches full of love and laughter; and Cuper's-Gardens; there are ſeveral little Vauxhalls, and dancing-rooms in the gardens, where people of both ſexes, of low and middling condition, aſſemble together, to their deſtruction in all reſpects. Here the ruin of many an honeſt tradeſman's daughter commences; and from being men of pleaſure at theſe places, idle young fellows come by degrees to the gallows. Their morals are here corrupted: their time is waſted: and money muſt be got ſome way or other, to anſwer the expences. What muſt become of us, when high and low, rich and poor, fly from themſelves, and laugh at every thing ſerious; run into every extravagance and vanity, A word of advice to the rich and gay. and wanton life away in diſſipations and diverſions! For ſhame, rationals, ſtop. Conſider what ye are. You are beings endued with reaſon, to the end you may purſue the true happineſs of rational nature, and by a truth and rectitude of life, unite yourſelves to the ſupreme, inexhauſtible fountain of all rational, intellectual and durable good. You are likewiſe accountable creatures, ſtanding on the brink of death, reſurrection, and judgment; and when this fleeting ſcene of vanity is over, moral impotence, or natural weakneſs, as they are now called, will not be accepted as a plea for the offender againſt nature and reaſon: for, let reaſon be heard, and ſpend ſome hours of your every day, in reading good books, and in the cloſet in prayer, with a reſolution to do your beſt to [461] live as you pray, and that power, which darkens the underſtanding, enſlaves the will, and obſtructs the operations of conſcience, you may eaſily remove. You will deſpiſe every gratification againſt truth, and delight in being uſeful and pious here, that you may ſecure eternal happineſs in ſome future world. Ponder then, rationals, in time. As you are placed here in a mutable condition, capable of bliſs and miſery; — to be made confirmed bleſſed ſpirits above, when the time of probation is over, if you have kept the commandments of God;—or, to live with Lucifer and the apoſtates for ever in darkneſs and woe, if you have not fought the good fight, and kept the faith; — therefore, do all that piety and goodneſs can do in this life. Reſolve by the advice of the goſpel, and let nothing in nature be able to divert the execution, but a countermand from the ſame authority.

I ſpeak to the rich and gay that frequent Vauxhall and Ranelagh; for as to the people who reſort to the ſix-penny gardens, they are incapable of being adviſed: the women there are for the moſt part ſtreet whores, and the greateſt part of the men, pickpockets and gamblers: nor do they keep themſelves ſober; for, the laſt time I looked into one of their dancing-rooms, (to ſee how it was with my kind, at 9 o'clock at night, as I was walking home), I ſaw ſome of the men ſuddled, —fighting for the women; and ſeveral unhappy girls, ſo drunk, they could not ſtand. The whole was a ſad ſcene.

But you, who are great, honourable, and rational, may be called on, I ſuppoſe, to ſtop every wandering or illicit thought, every inconſiderate word, and to bring every intended action before the ſupreme bar of righteous and impartial reaſon. You may, perhaps, remember what I beg leave to tell you, that you live under a [462] three-fold duty to God, to your neighbours, and to yourſelves: and of conſequence, that you muſt flee all thoſe pleaſures, diverſions, and alienations of mind, which uſually obſtruct the love of God, his fear, and honour: — that you muſt have no immoderate deſires; which may tempt you to violate the laws of juſtice and charity: — and in the regimen of yourſelves, that you muſt obſerve a ſtrict moderation and temperance, and make your whole life an oblation, and ſubmiſſion to the will of God. This advice I humbly offer to thoſe ſpiritual, intelligent, immortal beings, who waſte their precious hours at Ranelagh and Vaux-hall, and in routs and ſpectacles, and every ſpecies of plays and ſports, frolick it all the long day.

[460]
(41).

Let me recommend to you, reader, two large volumes written in an epiſtolary form: the firſt is, Sentimens de quelques theologiens de Hollande ſur l'hiſtoire critique du Vieux Teſtament, et de Nouveau Teſtament, par P. R. Simon, and Defenſe des ſentimens contre Bolville. Theſe are fine books: my reaſon for mentioning them here is, that the 11th and 12th letters, in the [471] firſt volume, called Sentimens, etc. is on the inſpiration of the ſacred writers; — and the 10th and 11th letters of the ſecond volume, called A defence, etc. is a continuation of the ſubject in a very extraordinary manner, that is, by giving a ſolid demonſtration of the truth of our religion, without intereſting it in this controverſy; that is, that the chriſtian religion is true, tho' the apoſtles had not been continually inſpired.

Note, reader, theſe five letters were tranſlated into Engliſh in 1690, and make a very little 12ves, that ſells for five ſhillings. — The two firſt letters, that is, the 11th and 12th of Sentimens, were printed lately in a new tranſlation, (I think for Cooper) a ſhilling pamphlet. Le Clerc was the author of theſe two books. I gave an account of him, and his writings, in my memoirs of ſome ladies of Great Britain, etc. p. 356—358.

Note, reader, the famous Father Richard Simon, a prieſt of the oratory, who writ l'hiſtoire critique, was born at Dieppe, the 13th of May, 1638, and died at the ſame place, April 7, 1712. He was the author of many other learned works, which a general reader ought to be no ſtranger to: but I can only recommend to a friend the lettres choiſes de M. Simon — his bibliotheque critique — Nouvelle bibliotheque choiſie. There is a great deal of curious learning in theſe pieces, mixed with a great deal of prejudice. Simon was a great man, and bad (in reſpect of the deſign) as his hiſtoire critique is, it is a moſt learned work, and of great uſe to thoſe who have heads fit to uſe it. Note, Herman Witſius, mentioned in my memoirs of the ladies, p. 357. (who defended Simon in his miſcellanea ſacra, by abuſing Le Clerc), was a doctor of divinity, and [472] profeſſor of the faculty at Franeker, natus Feb. 12, 1626, denatus, Octob. 22, 1708. aged 82.

Beſide his miſcellanea ſacra, he publiſhed oeconomia foederum, etc. — exercitationes ſacrae in orationem dominicum: — And Aegyptiaca. If like me, reader, you have nothing elſe to do but to read, I adviſe you to read them as curious things: there is learning, tho' not much good in them. See M. Mark's funeral oration on Witſius. Simon's Eloge you will find in journal litter. tom. 3. p. 225. — And if you have a critical head, I recommend to you Father Simon's diſſertation critique againſt Du Pin's nouvelle bibliotheque des quteurs eccleſiaſtiques: It is an arch piece of criticiſm, tho' it does not hurt Du Pin's bibliotheque.

Note, the learned and excellent Louis Ellies Du Pin, author of the valuable bibliotheque eccleſiaſtique, was born June 17, 1657, and died at Paris, June 16, 1719, aged 62. He writ many other excellent works: but this bibliotheque nouvelle des auteurs eccleſiaſtique, from Jeſus Chriſt to the year 1710, in 35 volumes in 8vo, is the principal labour of his life. — The beſt edition in Engliſh of this fine work, is that of Grierſon in Dublin in Folio.

The other works of Du Pin are theſe — Diſſertation preliminaire ou prolegomenes ſur la bible, en trois volumes, in 8vo. — De antiqua eccleſiae diſciplina, in ſeven diſſertations. — De la puiſſance eccleſiaſtique et temporelle. — La doctrine chretienne et orthodoxe.— Notes on the pentateuch. — Les pſeaumes en Latin, et des notes in 8vo. — Verſion François des pſaumes, avec des notes. — A defence of his notes on the pſalms.— A folio edition of the works of Optatus Aſer (Milevi in [473] Numidia epiſc. qui clar. an. 368.) and to this edition is prefixed Du Pin's hiſtory of the Donatiſts (a very curious thing), and the ſacred geography of Africa. — A new edition of Gerſon's works in five tomes folio; to which he joined a work of his own, called Gerſoniana; a very curious and valuable thing, which contains the life of Gerſon, the hiſtory of his times, and the doctrines and lives of contemporary authors. — Critique ſur l'hiſtoire d' Apollonius de Tyranne. — Une lettre ſur l'ancienne diſcipline touchant la meſſe. — Un traite de l'excommunication. — Une hiſtoire de l'egliſe en abrege — Une hiſtoire profane depuis les tems les plus reculez juſqu'a preſent. — Une analyſe de l' Apocalypſe, avec de diſſertations ſur differentes matieres curieuſes. — Une hiſtoire du xvii ſiecle. — Un traite de l'amour de Dieu. — Bibliotheque des hiſtoriens profanes: but of this laſt work he never publiſhed more than two volumes, which have been tranſlated into Engliſh: and ſo far as he did go, is ſo well done, that it is to be lamented, he did not finſh his noble deſign. — As to his edition of Baſnage's hiſtoire des Juifs, without mentioning the name of Baſnage, and [474] his making many alterations in it, contrary to its author's mind, it brought on him a ſevere caſtigation from Baſnage; as I mentioned in my account of Baſnage's writings in my firſt volume of the memoirs of ſeveral ladies of Great-Britain, p. 350; where I referred the reader to a fine piece, called, hiſtoire des Juifs reclame, par Jacqueus Baſnages.

Note: next to the bibliotheque des auteurs eccleſiaſtiques, the beſt books of Du Pin are, his ſeven diſſertations de antiqua diſciplina eccleſiae: which is one Latin volume in 4to: — and his puiſſance eccleſiaſtique et temporelle: one volume in 8vo. In theſe volumes, he works the pope in a fine manner, as to ſupremacy and infallibility.

[470]
(42.).

Long ſince my converſation with Mr. Berrisfort, I have ſeen an excellent book, written by the learned miniſter of Maybole, in which he labours, through ſeveral 4to pages, from p. 213, to reconcile Mark and Matthew, by virtue of a ſecond viſit to the monument by Mary Magdalene, when the Lord appeared firſt to her; — and a ſecond viſit to the ſepulchre by the other women, when Jeſus appeared next to thoſe women; and, in my opinion, he has proved it, beyond a poſſibility of rational reply. See Mr. Macknight's harmony. Le Clerc, in his harmony, does likewiſe evince the thing.

(43).

For further Satisfaction on this Article, and to be convinced that the books of the New Teſtament, as we now have them, are the word of God, ſee, reader, the ſacred claſſics — and Jones's method of ſettling the canonical authority of the Teſtament. By the way, if Jacob Ilive, who ſtood in the pillory, the 30th of June, 1756, for writing and publiſhing a thing called, Modeſt remarks on the biſhop of London's ſermons (Dr. Sherlock) in a letter to his lordſhip, price 1 s. 6 d. had read with attention the books I have mentioned, (and Dr. Lardner's credibility of the goſpel-hiſtory) he would not, I imagine, have compoſed a pamphlet, that manifeſts not only an impious licentiouſneſs, but an ignorance the greateſt and moſt deſpicable, in relation to the ſubjects he pretended to write on.

The reader will find in my Appendix to this Journal, among other curious Things, ſome ſtrictures on Mr. Ilive's letter.

(44).

Let us now ſee (ſays a great man and upright chriſtian) what uſe the enemies of chriſtianity have endeavoured to make of the prophecies, as the evangeliſts apply them; and what anſwer the truth of the caſe will oblige us to give to them.

They aſſert that the foundation of the chriſtian religion is laid by the evangeliſts, on the proof of this point, that the miſſion and character of Jeſus were foretold by the prophets; and that the validity of this proof depends intirely on the force of thoſe particular prophecies which the ſame evangeliſts have applied to the illuſtration of it, in their ſeveral goſpels. Upon this hypotheſis, the enemy undertakes to ſhew, that the prophecies, ſo applied by them, do not at all relate to Jeſus, in their proper and literal ſignification, but only in ſecondary, typical, and figurative ſenſe: but then this way of interpreting them is equivocal, precarious, and incapable of yielding any rational ſatisfaction; and of conſequence chriſtianity has no foundation. Such is the uſe the enemy make of the prophecies applied by the evangeliſts.

In truth, if we admit that chriſtianity has no other foundation than what the enemy aſſign it, it might not perhaps be difficult for them to make good the reſt: for upon that ſuppoſition, many objections are thrown in our way, which it is ſcarce poſſible to get rid of. But while they fancy themſelves to be demoliſhing foundations, they are battering only ſuch parts of the edifice, [491] as ſerve for its ornaments rather than its ſupport: and had the enemy gone farther, and ſhewn that ſome of the prophecies cited by Matthew did not relate to Jeſus in any ſenſe at all, they would have done no more than what ſome of the primitive fathers, as well as modern critics had done before them, without deſigning or doing the leaſt hurt to chriſtianity.

Jeſus declared in general, that Moſes and the prophets had teſtified of him: but ſince the evangeliſts did not think it neceſſaay to give a preciſe account, or deduction of the ſeveral prophecies, which were alleged by him in proof of that declaration; it is ſufficient to take it, juſt as we find it; without thinking ourſelves obliged to defend all the particular inſtances or applications, which were offered afterwards in ſupport of it by fallible men. Mr. Whiſton, in his literal accompliſhment of the ſcripture prophecies, has produced 45 prophecies from the Old Teſtament, which are cited in the New, in proof of the Meſſiahſhip of Jeſus, and which he declares to have been clearly and directly fulfilled, without the leaſt pretence of any reply from any author whatſoever. Now if any number of theſe, how ſmall ſoever, are found to be as clearly accompliſhed, as he takes them to be, they are ſufficient to ſupport the authority of the goſpel, tho' all the reſt were thrown aſide.

But to ſay the truth, the grounds of our faith, in theſe latter ages of the church, do not lie in the particular interpretations of prophecies, made by men, who might be miſtaken, and who, as Jerome * ſays more than once, [492] by truſting to their memories, in citing theſe very prophephecies, were frequently miſtaken in the words, and ſometimes in the ſenſe of them. Nor is the evidence [493] of prophecy ſo proper in theſe days, to convert men to the faith of Chriſt, as to confirm thoſe who have already embraced it: ſerving chiefly, as St. Paul expreſſes it, [494] not to them, who believed not, but to them who believe.

The ſum then of this article is, that upon the firſt promulgation of the goſpel, while the converſion of the Jews was the principal object of our Saviour's miniſtry, and afterwards of his apoſtles, the argument of prophecy was, of all others, the beſt adapted to perſuade, and conquer the prejudices of that nation. But in preaching the goſpel to the Gentiles, not acquainted with the [495] Jewiſh ſcriptures, nor tinctured with any Jewiſh prejudices, the teſtimony of its miracles, and the purity of its doctrines, were the moſt affecting proof of its divine origin. Yet when by the evidence of theſe, people had once received the chriſtian faith, and acquired a competent knowledge of it, they would then perceive, that the argument of prophecy, was a part alſo of the evidence, eſſentially neceſſary to complete the demonſtration of its truth.

[490]
*

St. Jerome is one of the four great doctors of the Latin church, who ſupport the magnificent bronze chair of St. Peter, in this ſaints church in Rome. — The other three doctors are St. Auguſtin, St. Ambroſe, St. [492] Gregory. Great might be the piety of thoſe doctors, for any thing I can ſay to the contrary: but this is certain, from their writings, that they did not underſtand chriſtianity.

In my memoirs of ſeveral ladies of Great-Britain, vol. 1. p. 329. I gave an account of St. Auguſtin's works, and obſerved that this great ſaint was born in Africa, November 13, 354, in the reign of Conſtance —and died Auguſt 28, 430. at Hippo.—Aetat. 76.

St. Jerome was born at Stridon, in Dalmatia, in the year 340. — and died in the year 420. aged 80.— There is a good edition of his works in 9 volumes ſolio. Paris 1623. But the later edition of Martianay, the Benedictin, is much finer and more valuable.

St. Jerome was a hot, abuſive man, and quarrelled even with St. Auguſtin. In his diſputes, he is more like a madman than a faint, and ever in the wrong. He writ comments on all the prophets, Eccleſiaſtes, St. Matthew, and the epiſtles to the Galatians, Epheſians, Titus, and Philemon; but they are ſad ſtuff in reſpect of ſome modern performances. Compare them with the comments of Dr. Clarke, Mr. Locke, Dr. Benſon, and others of our country, and you will ſee what a poor creature this ſaint was in reſpect of our Engliſh divines and philoſophers. He tranſlated the Old Teſtament into Latin from the Hebrew; without underſtanding the Hebrew well: and he corrected the antient Latin verſion of the New Teſtament. This is far from being correct, tho' the church of Rome has [493] decreed it to be infallible, and appointed it to be uſed in the church.—The beſt and moſt uſeful thing this ſaint writ is his treatiſe of illuſtrious men; which contains a ſummary of the lives and the titles of the books, written by eccleſiaſtical authors, to his time. The next in worth to this, in my opinion, is his book of letters; in which are ſeveral fine moral ſentiments, and much good advice; tho' his criticiſms on the bible in this work are weak enough. — He will have it, that it was wiſdom, and not a young woman, that David took into bed to him, when he was old and cold; which is a mere fancy, that plainly contradicts the hiſtory of that affair in the bible. But Jerome abhorred a woman, as much as Mrs. Aſtel did a man: and deteſted and blackened matrimony and a wife, to extol and exalt that whim of his brain, virginity. With deteſtation (he owns), he beheld every big bellied woman, (the fineſt ſight in the world) tho' rendered ſo in the holy matrimonial bed, and could not bear looking at her, but as he reflected, that ſhe carried a virgin, So he tells us in his letters; and of conſequence, a fit ſupporter of St. Peter's chair.

St. Ambroſe is the next ſupporter and ſaint. He was born at Treves in the year 340.— and died the 4th of April 397.—Aged 57. This holy prelate was a great contender for tritheiſm and the rights of the church, and writ many worthleſs pieces for them and perſecution. [494] He acted an inſolent and ſenſeleſs part, in the caſe of the emperor Theodoſius, in the affair of Theſſalonica, when that prince ordered the ſeditious to be deſtroyed: and he died ſoon after the greateſt and moſt bleſſed of men: (ſay Paulinus and Baronius, who both writ his life.)—The beſt edition of his works is that of the Benedictins, Paris 1691, 2 volumes, folio: with many notes.

As to St. Gregory of Neocaeſarea, and the four other ſaints of the name, to wit, the two Nazianzens, Nyſſe, and Armenia, I ſhall have occaſion to mention them in the next volume of my journal, and therefore, ſhall here only obſerve, in reſpect of Ncocaeſarea, uſually called Thaumaturgus, or the wonder-worker, that he died in the year 265, according to Baronius, and the ſaint of Armenia, or in 270, according to Fabricius: and that the beſt edition of his works is that of Gerard Voſſius in 4to, Mayence, 1604. His pieces were likewiſe printed at Paris in folio, 1621. with the writings of ſome minor ſaints. This folio is a collection of things written by ſaints.

[491]
(44).

The arguments I uſed to make a convert of Mr. Fleming, the reader will find in the appendix to this journal, among other intereſting matters, that are too long to be inſerted in the ſtory of my life. I ſhall print them in hopes they may be of ſervice to ſome other ſoul. They were introduced the firſt day I was at Mr. Fleming's houſe, by his ſaying to me, after dinner, — Dear ſir, will you give me leave to aſk you, by what ſtrange cauſe it has happened, that you are thus travelling on foot in this unviſited country. It muſt be an extraordinary affair I am ſure. — Sir, I replied, my caſe is very uncommon. I do not believe that any thing like it ever was before, and, perhaps, ſuch another affair may never happen again. I little thought then, that I ſhould afterwards meet with two inſtances of the ſame kind of thinking and reſolution in the female world, to wit, Miſs Chawcer and Miſs Janſon; whoſe hiſtories I have given in the firſt volume of my Memoirs of ſeveral ladies of Great-Britain, p. 41—64. The critics, I remember, had ſome doubts as to the reality of theſe two caſes: but to this I anſwer, that they may as well doubt the truth of my own ſtory; and from thence proceed to deny the reality of my exiſtence; becauſe ſeveral incidents in my life are ſtrange, and ſuch as they have not heard of before. It is not, however, in the power of criticiſm to invalidate what I deliver as facts. I will tell you my ſtory: and ſo began to relate the religious Diſpute between my father and me, and how it was brought to a Head by the devil [501] poſſeſſed by a woman, called, a mother-in-law. As the glaſs went round, I let them know, how a man in the twenty-ſecond year of his age, forſook all for the true goſpel of Chriſt, and at a time of life, when very few think of religion, reſolved to confeſs himſelf a Chriſtian deiſt, to all whom it concerned, if it brought him to want, and from a morſel of bread to the grave. So far I was heard without interruption, tho' I declaimed by the way againſt the dreadful hereſy of three gods: but not thinking I was in company with catholics, (for then I imagined that ſuch ſubjects of the king of England were only to be found in Ireland), I brought into my oration againſt falſe religion, the diaboliſm of popery, and gave it ſeveral thruſts; as, indeed, I always do, whenever, it comes in my way: for, good reader, tho' I love the catholic men and women, becauſe I am a friend to man, and nearly related to many Romaniſts of great fortune; yet, popery I abhor; and look upon it as the greateſt woe that ever the devil introduced into this lower world, to ruin mankind: but when I began to touch this ſtring, and was raking Rome papal fore and aft, Fleming, the Frier, changed colour ſeveral times, (which I took notice of, and knew not what to aſcribe it to, unleſs he was very ſick) and at laſt he told me, by way of game, that I was an eloquent young gentleman, and had a flow of language; but my miſtakes as to the church of Rome were very great, and he begged leave, as he was a prieſt of the holy Roman church, to ſet me right in my notions. This was a great ſurprize to me. It ſtruck me ſilent for ſome minutes. At laſt, however, I told the gentlemen, that I aſked their pardons for making ſo free with their religion, which I ſhould not preſume to have done, but that I thought they had been proteſtants: that, as to his offer to ſet me right, he did me great honour, and I [502] would with pleaſure hear him. I would, to be ſure, be a convert to the ſtrength of his arguments if unanſwerable; or, offer ſuch reaſons for remaining a proteſtant, as muſt ſatisfy a rational man. He then went on, and my reply followed. The ſubſtance of this is what the reader is to find in the Appendix.

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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4910 The life of John Buncle Esq containing various observations and reflections made in several parts of the world and many extraordinary relations. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-58B4-6