LETTER I.

I AM glad to hear of your Reſolu⯑tion to enter into the Service of GOD; you could not poſſibly chuſe a better Maſter, provided you are but ſufficiently qualified to ſerve ſuch a Maſter well, and to acquit yourſelf with Honour in the Exerciſe of the miniſterial Office. All the Duties and Qualifications which are requiſite to the Paſtoral Charge, ſeem to me to be ſummon'd up in theſe few Words of the Apoſtle St PAUL to [2]TIMOTHY;— ‘^* Study to ſhew thyſelf ap⯑prov'd unto GOD, a WORKMAN that needeth not be aſhamed, rightly dividing the WORD of TRUTH.’—For by being approved unto GOD, does not probably ſignify more than the pleaſing him, fearing, loving, and honouring him does; that is, by leading a religious and virtuous Life, according to the Rules of the Goſpel; thus^† APELLES is ſaid to be approv'd in CHRIST, and he is ſaid to be the [...], the good, the upright, or approv'd Man; not he who commendeth himſelf, but whom the LORD^§ commendeth. By being a Workman that needeth not be aſhamed, I take to be meant ſuch an one who is ſkilful in his Profeſſion, one that is qualify'd with compe⯑tent Learning and Skill for the Diſcharge of the Paſtoral Office; for a Miniſter that wants theſe Qualifications had need to be aſhamed, becauſe 'tis a very great Shame for any Workman whatſoever to work or practiſe in that Profeſſion or Calling which he does not underſtand; for a Man cannot [3]have the Face ſo much as to excuſe his Ignorance in that Matter which he profeſſes to know. By rightly dividing the Word of Truth, I underſtand the teaching ſound and orthodox Doctrine, the interpreting the Scripture truly and genuinely, without heretical, falſe, erroneous, or whimſical Gloſſes, which St PAUL does ſo often caution againſt in many Places of his EPISTLES. For dividing the WORD ſignifies teaching or inter⯑preting it, being a Metaphor probably taken from the JEWISH Sections or Diviſions of the LAW, one Diviſion of which was read and commented upon every Sabbath-Day; ſo that to divide the WORD, came to ſignify the interpreting, commenting, or preaching upon ſuch a Diviſion of it.

A GOOD Life then, according to the APOSTLE, is a Duty which is particularly incumbent upon us of the Clergy;—we muſt ſtudy to approve our⯑ſelves unto GOD. Colours artfully ſpread upon Canvas may entertain the Eye, but never affect the Heart; and he, who takes no Care to add to the natural Graces of his Eloquence any excellent [4]Qualities, may be allow'd ſtill to amuſe, as a PICTURE, but not to triumph over the Affec⯑tions of his Auditors. The Eloquence of a bad Man is ſo involv'd in Smoke, that it does not ap⯑pear in half its Beauty; but that of a good Man ſhews itſelf in ſuch a Variety of correſponding a⯑greeable Lights, that it ſhines, as it were, in an univerſal Blaze; his Sermons receive a Luſtre from his Life, and his Delivery, tho' not ſo graceful as that of a TILLOTSON, has however the Power of charming. Without this irradiating Power, the proudeſt Divine ought to know, whatever he may think to the contrary, that his fineſt Sentiments, both in his Pulpit-Harangues, and in common Converſation, are uninform'd and dead. 'Tis the good, the upright, the approved Man only can deliver his Diſcourſe or his Opinion with Dignity, can rouſe a deſponding, or check an outrageous Sinner; can chaſtiſe the Enormities of the Age, or applaud Virtue, Innocence, and Integrity. For how can the vicious Preacher be warm in exhort⯑ing to Devotion? How can he be vehement in re⯑claiming the Reprobate? How can be gracefully [5]recommend Piety and Virtue? How can he be ſucceſsful in ſoothing the afflicted or deſponding Chriſtian? 'Tis impoſſible that a Hearer ſhould ever be impreſs'd with Sorrow, with Hatred, with Deteſtation of Sin, with Dread of Puniſhment; 'tis impoſſible to move him to Penitence, to Tears, and Contrition, unleſs the Preacher ſhall appear poſſeſs'd of all theſe good Diſpoſitions which he aims to awaken in others. A wicked Clergyman is a ridiculous Character; there is never a SUNDAY he goes to Church, but his Congregation are Wit⯑neſſes of his Folly and Impudence; he never aſcends the ROSTRUM, but he undergoes a ſevere Trial, and every Time he reads PRAYERS 'tis renew'd. For there is ſcarcely any one who hears him that has not a quicker, a more piercing Eye to the Defects of his Life, than the Beauties of his Delivery; ſo that of whatſoever Complection his Immoralities may be, they caſt a Cloud over all his Excellencies. I muſt own, indeed, he that hath made but one falſe Step, or committed one ſingle Error in Life, is not immediately pronounc'd a Stranger to Virtue and Goodneſs; the good-natured [6]World always throws the Mantle of Cha⯑rity over it, becauſe 'tis impoſſible for frail Man to be free from all Fault. I have known it an Advantage to many that they have committed Miſtakes in their firſt ſetting out in the World, becauſe they have thus improv'd their Caution and Prudence; and the Remembrance of former Miſ⯑carriages, has put them upon repairing little Slips with extraordinary Succeſs. To deſire, indeed, to be free from all Fault, whilſt we are frail Men, is an extravagant Pitch of Arrogance; and as often to ſtumble againſt the ſame Stone, and not to learn Caution, even when the Event chaſtiſes our Raſhneſs, is even far beneath the Character of a Man.

As there is nothing ſo diſtaſteful to an Au⯑dience as a bad Clergyman, ſo there is nothing they ſo much adore as a good one. They are ſtruck with the Beauty of INWARD CHARACTER, the Harmony and Numbers of the HEART, the juſt Regulation of the AFFECTIONS, which form the Manners of an ORATOR.

[7]I SHALL therefore enter into a more particular Diſcuſſion of thoſe Virtues, or moral Qualifications, which the ROMAN Orator ſtiles the HAND⯑MAIDS of ELOQUENCE; and which we of this Profeſſion are under an indiſpenſible Obligation to practiſe, if we would approve ourſelves unto GOD, or our Hearers, as eloquent DIVINES.

THE firſt Virtue I ſhall mention, as more par⯑ticularly neceſſary for us to practiſe, is HUMI⯑LITY. There is not, indeed, any Degree of Meanneſs in the Paſtoral Office which ſhould en⯑gage Clergymen to be more condeſcenſive than others; for they have rather Reaſon to value them⯑ſelves upon the Dignity of it. But ſuch is the Na⯑ture of their Employ, that it being their Buſineſs to aſſiſt and inſtruct Perſons of all Ranks and Qua⯑lities, as well the POOR as the RICH, 'tis im⯑poſſible, without a conſiderable Degree of Humi⯑lity and Condeſcenſion, that they ſhould, in any tolerable Meaſure, perform their Duty. We muſt with as much Sincerity and Application inſtruct the pooreſt Child in our Pariſh in the Principles of [8]Religion, as if we had in Charge the Son of CAESAR. We muſt with as great Readineſs viſit in their Sickneſs the poor Almſman and Beggar in their ſqualid Cotrage, as we do thoſe great Per⯑ſons that lie expiring in Pomp and Splendor. 'Tis an intolerable Arrogance for us, upon a great Preferment, to put on a Mein of Grandeur and a ſupercilious Carriage, and to deſpiſe thoſe poorer Labourers in the Goſpel, who have met with a leſs bountiful Reward. If any Clergyman were to ſet a Value upon himſelf, it ſhould be upon the conſcientious Diſcharge of his Office, for the ELDER only that ruleth well is worthy of DOUBLE HONOUR; for the Church muſt never value herſelf upon her Patrimony, becauſe her beſt and pureſt Ages were when ſhe inherited nothing but Perſecution; and we find in Scripture an Abun⯑dance of Commendations and Bleſſings upon good and faithful Paſtors, but it is for feeding the SHEEP, and not for the WEIGHT of their FLEECE. And it is as great a Fault in a Clergy⯑man to be proud of great Parts and Learning, not only becauſe theſe are the Giſts of GOD as well [9]as other Things, but becauſe theſe Qualifications, when accompanied with Pride, do very little good, nay, commonly a great deal of Miſchief in GOD's Church; for the learnedeſt Men, tho' good, are not always the moſt ſucceſsful Paſtors; tho' PAUL plants, and APOLLOS waters, yet it is GOD that gives the Increaſe; a painful and induſtrious, tho' leſs learned Miniſter, may gain more Souls to CHRIST than the moſt learned GAMALIELS; for oftentimes poor ignorant Wretches, which ſtand unaffected by all the rational Strength of ſome great Doctors of the Law, are rous'd up to Repentance, and a Senſe of Religion, by the weak Performances of ſome of the meaneſt of the Sons of the Prophets.

THERE is a pretty remarkable Story of a COUNTRY CLERGYMAN, which, as perhaps you have not heard, I ſhall here inſert, and for a Matter of Fact. This Gentleman had a Son who, being deficient in point of Learning, was refuſed DEACON'S ORDERS by a certain worthy PRE⯑LATE a few Years ago; it was ſuch a Grief to [10]him, that he went perſonally to his Lordſhip, and begg'd hard that his Son might not return with ſuch a Slur to the Univerſity, and be diſcouraged from making better Uſe of his Time. ‘MY LORD, ſaid the Clergyman, be pleas'd but to admit my Son to DEACON'S ORDERS, and I will engage that he ſhall appear before your Lordſhip the next Time with a better Stock of Learning, and approve himſelf not unworthy of your future Favour. When I was about his Age, I got into ORDERS, tho' but indifferently furniſh'd with Learning; for I had been very remiſs in my Studies. A few Years after, be⯑ing promoted to a Living, I found my Pa⯑riſhioners moſtly DISSENTERS, which, for a while, made me a little diſſatisfy'd. Now your Lordſhip may, perhaps, wonder how I did to manage them, being not over-burthen'd, at my firſt ſetting out, with Divinity. Why, my LORD, I took this Method, which effectually anſwer'd my Deſire. Whenever I had any Oc⯑caſion of ſpeaking with them, either at my own Houſe, or any other Place, my Carriage [11]towards them was never diveſted of good Man⯑ners, and I never made my Company diſtaſteful to them on the Score of Opinion. I frequent⯑ly had them to ſpend an Evening with me, and our Diſcourſe was chiefly confin'd to ſuch Things as fall in Countrymens' Way. By theſe Means, and doing them all the good Turns in my Power, I had much of their Company; and can now, with Comfort, ſay, that of all the DISSENTERS in my Pariſh that went to the MEETING, I have not one now that goes to it; they all come as duly to Church as the reſt of my People.—This, my LORD, was my Caſe, and I leave it to your Lordſhip's Candour and Conſideration.’ The good Biſhop, I have been told, was ſo pleaſed with this Country Clergyman's honeſt Simplicity and plain Dealing, that he obliged him, and ordain'd his Son.

THIS STORY, if duly conſider'd, is enough to quell the Pride of thoſe Clergymen who un⯑meaſurably value themſelves upon their Learning and great Preferment, and look upon others only [12]as the Caterpillars in the Vineyard. Such Endow⯑ments, ſingle of themſelves, are no Qualifications for a Chriſtian Miniſtry, and they may as well be poſſeſs'd by the proud Prieſts of BAAL or BAC⯑CHUS, by Pagan FLAMENS, or Mahometan MUFTIES.

So true is it, that Men who excel in other Re⯑ſpects, nay, ſhine in other Lights of Life, are fre⯑quently more deficient in that Addreſs, that mild Humanity, which wins the Affections of Mankind, than in Talents to raiſe themſelves to honourable Stations. The haughty and dogmatical are often ſubſtituted in the Room of the friendly, benevolent, and obliging. As to the Objection, that we might perhaps be over-bold with GREATNESS, and make Acquaintance with it in too familiar a Man⯑ner, if it was humble and condeſcenſive; I anſwer, it may be juſt with reſpect to thoſe Gentlemen whoſe only Qualifications lie in Form and Diſtance, but not to thoſe of real Merit. A becoming Freedom, Simplicity, and Openneſs of Behaviour, methinks, when extended to Men of Senſe and Prudence, will [13]never leſſen Greatneſs at all; but rather, like the regular APERTURES of a BUILDING, add Beauty to the WHOLE, without diminiſhing the Strength of any PART of it.

THE ſuperior Clergy ſhould be the Support and Ornament of the Prieſthood; they are placed in higher Orbs, not that, like METEORS, their ominous Blaze ſhould be the Gaze and Terror of their leſs happy Brethren; but that, like STARS, they may illuminate and beautify, animate and impregnate the inferior World: For they, like THEM, ſhould have an enlarg'd Proſpect, a ſwift and conſtant Motion, a bountiful and benign In⯑fluence.

[14] A LARGE Share of this INDECORUM of Behaviour belongs to thoſe, I believe, who have contracted the Reverſe of Affability and civil Manners in their INFANCY. For PRIDE is a Paſſion which, inſtead of being reſtrain'd, is uſually indulged in Children: So that 'tis indeed no Wonder if the Effects of it are very unfortu⯑nately felt in SOCIETY. For it will be hard, perhaps, for one to give a Reaſon why that Tem⯑per which was uſed to delight in Inſult over Ser⯑vants or Inferiors, in a Kitchen or a Nurſery, ſhould not afterwards be the Occaſion of equal Miſchief in the Publick itſelf.

IT has been known likewiſe to be perfectly reigning in thoſe, who have long indulg'd them⯑ſelves in an habitual Moroſeneſs in a COLLEGE⯑LIFE. There are certain Negligences or PEC⯑CADILLOS in Behaviour towards Inferiors con⯑tracted there, which ſometimes reduce Gentlemen into a perfect Apathy towards others that are not their Equals in Birth, or Fortune, or Learning, or Preferments, ever afterwards. When we go to an [15]Univerſity, we find that, as FORTUNE holds the GLASS, Things have quite different Faces in the Imaginations of many of the graver ſort of Academicks: We find that there is ſcarce one in five of the FELLOWS of a COLLEGE can be tolerably civil to any Gentleman of leſs Rank than a NOBLEMAN, a GENTLEMAN-COMMONER, or a GRADUATE. Hence 'tis, that others catch the Infection; Noblemen, or Gentlemen-Com⯑moners, will only keep Company with the FEL⯑LOWS, or with one another; a Graduate with a Graduate, or Men of the ſame ſtanding. So that by theſe fooliſh Diſtinctions, the poor SCHOLAR or SERVITOR in a tatter'd Gown, tho' of ever ſo much Merit, has rarely, but very rarely, the Benefit of keeping Company with his Superiors; which, I muſt own, I mention with Concern, as 'tis a great Diſadvantage to Youth when they firſt go to an Univerſity, and would gladly learn MANNERS, as well as SCIENCES. If a poor Scholar ſhould happen to neglect or forget the Ceremony of putting off his CAP in paſſing one of the FELLOWS in the COLLEGE-QUADRANGLE, [16]'tis a thouſand to one but he is made to faſt that Day by being put out of COMMONS, or elſe he perceives his Miſtake not only in his Dinner, but at it likewiſe. For if the proud Gentleman that thinks himſelf ſlighted, ſhould happen to ſit PROVOST-PLACE, as they call it, he ſits at the Head of his Table in all the Agonies of conceal'd Ill-nature, and his Diſcourſe is made up of half Sentences, and dark Alluſions, both diſagreeable and unintelligible to all preſent; ſo that the Scholars that wait at Table, can only ſtare each other wildly in the Face, and ſtand with a mali⯑cious Sneer, wiſhing the Dinner was over, and in⯑wardly commiſerating the Condition of one ano⯑ther. When Gentlemen of ſuch a ſaturnine Com⯑plection retire from the Exerciſe of magiſterial Authority over a few poor Scholars, and enter in⯑to Life, their Behaviour is commonly attended with a great many diſagreeable Sullenneſſes towards their Inferiors, or Dependants, upon the ſlighteſt Diſpleaſure; nay, whether in or out of Humour, they have contracted ſuch an Averſion to tatter'd Robes, that, for the moſt part, they fly the Society [17]of the POOR. Such Men forget, that they give the World the ſame Advantage over their RE⯑PUTATION, which a more criminal Conduct would do.—

THE young Gentleman therefore that goes to an Univerſity has great Need of Counſel and Di⯑rection. I would have him conſult GOD in the firſt Place, and next, the moſt humble, the moſt devout, and experienc'd Tutor and Companions he can find out. For he ſtands in a Place where many Ways meet; and if he takes the Wrong, he will certainly wander far, and it may be, never re⯑cover the right. He may float a long, long while, upon the BILLOWS of PRIDE and FOLLY, before he recovers the Haven of WISDOM and HUMILITY.

How conſiderable a Part of Happineſs is loſt by thoſe, who ſeem by the Eminence of their Condition to be above ordinary human Commerce, [18]and who affect a ſort of diſtant Strangeneſs towards their Inferiors, will be eaſily apprehended by one who is not exceedingly ill-natur'd. Such a re⯑ferv'd, uncommunicative, unfriendly Greatneſs, muſt, of all others, be the moſt diſtaſteful and gloomy State. Nor can it poſſibly be eſteem'd other than ſound and thorough Wretchedneſs, a grating and diſguſtful Feeling, without the leaſt Mixture of any thing ſoft, gentle, or agreeable. How great muſt be the Shocks of Diſappointment, the Stings of Affront, and the Agonies of a work⯑ing Antipathy, againſt the multiply'd Objects of Offence, to the haughty proud Man, who with a ſevere Aſpect, and a pompous lofty Tone of Au⯑thority, guards his Greatneſs, as a gruff Bully does a Miſtreſs? Wherever ſuch a Creature turns him⯑ſelf, which ever Way he caſts his Eye, every thing around him muſt appear ghaſtly and horrid; every thing hoſtile, and, as it were, bent againſt a private and ſingle Being, who is thus divided by PRIDE from every thing beneath him, and has nothing ſoft or pleaſing from the Side of FRIEND⯑SHIP in the INFERIOR WORLD. How little [19]does ſuch a Mortal know the Extent, and Power, and Pleaſure of HUMILITY, and to what an heroick Pitch a Soul may riſe, which feels the thorough Force of it? Never was Humility prac⯑tiſed but with increaſing Joy, which makes the Practiſer ſtill more in Love with the fair Act. It leaves behind it the Perception of a delicious Eaſe, and an Overflowing of ſoft and pleaſing Senſation. I would to GOD, that enormous Pride and Diſtance did never appear among us, that Humi⯑lity and a juſt Reverence for Mankind, and Civi⯑lity and affable Manners, did alway take place. We ſhould then feel nothing but the enlivening Influence of the benevolent and obliging, the cour⯑teous and unreſerv'd Temper, which is a perfect Stranger to the untoward Delights of a diſſocial Community.

I SHALL conclude this Epiſtle, leſt I ſhould fall under the Imputation of being prolix, with ar⯑dently wiſhing, that all of US may be able to ſay with DAVID, ‘^* LORD, I am not high-mind⯑ed, [20]I have no proud Looks. I do not exerciſe myſelf in great Matters, which are too high for me: But I refrain my SOUL, and keep it low, as a CHILD that is weaned from his MOTHER; yea, my SOUL is even as a weaned Child.’ Our SAVIOUR has ſo often pronounc'd the hum⯑bleſt Man the greateſt in the Kingdom of Heaven; he has ſo often promis'd the firſt Place, and the greateſt Exaltation to the loweſt Condeſcenſions; he was himſelf ſo illuſtrious an Example of Lowlineſs of Mind, of Poverty of Spirit; and the APOSTLE has ſo expreſly aſſerted his^§ JOY and CROWN to be the Reward of his HUMILITY, that I can never think, DEAR SIR, that we can ever riſe to a more eminent Height, than that to which the Imitation of this Virtue of our LORD and MASTER will advance US.

LETTER II.

ANOTHER Virtue we are particularly to practiſe is PATIENCE; for, I am ſure, no Order of Men in the World have more Occaſion to exerciſe it. If we ſhould give way to Paſſion and Peeviſhneſs, our whole Life would be one continual Fret. We had need of a great deal of Patience in the Inſtruction and Admonition of thoſe that are under our Care; to ſee what ſlow Progreſs they make in the Know⯑ledge of divine Truths; how perverſe the younger [22]ſort are to learn their Duty, and how refractory and ſtubborn the elder are to retain their vicious Habits; with how great a Facility even Chil⯑dren can apprehend any thing that is lewd and wicked, and how dull and ſtupid their very Parents are whilſt we are preaching to them what is good; how that when we ſpeak to them in Demonſtra⯑tion and Power, making out to them as clear as the SUN, the Agreeableneſs, the Pleaſure and Happineſs of a virtuous Courſe of Life, and the inevitable Miſery of a bad one; and when to this, we farther add the Efforts of a pious Zeal, and the Charms of a grateful Eloquence; and yet, not⯑withſtanding all this, to make no more Impreſſion upon their Hearts, than the STROKES do upon the harden'd ANVIL.—We had need be con⯑ſiderable Maſters of this Virtue, when we find how many Men are become our Enemies, becauſe we tell them the Truth; that when we preach up Re⯑ligion and Virtue, we are look'd upon as ſo many knaviſh Cheats and Impoſtors by the Atheiſtical and Prophane; whilſt we endeavour to maintain the Unity and Apoſtolick Government of our [23]Church, whilſt we warn Men of the great Danger of an unreaſonable Separation, we are traduced by the reſolv'd Schiſmatick as the Agents of ROME, and the Advocates only of a more covert and diſ⯑guis'd Popery; that when we teach the Quiet and Peaceableneſs of Primitive Chriſtianity, the Guilt and Danger of Faction and Rebellion, to think we ſhould be cenſur'd, for the Miſcarriages of ſome this Way, as the Mercenaries of Government, and the Promoters of a deſpotick Power. To think farther yet, how the INFERIOR CLERGY ſhould be ſet up as the Mark of Ridicule and Contempt; that they ſhould have Reaſon to complain of more Grievances, than their Superiors can boaſt of Im⯑munities; that no Injuſtices are ſo frequently com⯑mitted, nor ſo hardly redreſs'd, as what are done to them; that they ſhould, in many Places, be the Sport of the Gentry, and be liable to all the un⯑mannerly Mirth of the Commonalty; that their very Name ſhould paſs for a Jeſt, and every thing, tho' never ſo nauſeouſly ſilly, when they are the Subject, preſently commence Wit, and go for a Thing that is well ſaid.—Now to be able to con⯑flict [24]with theſe and many more Grievances and Difficulties in the Exerciſe of our Office, we muſt be arm'd with a great deal of PATIENCE, and wait for a Recompence in another World for our SUFFERINGS here: THIS, and this only, has kept up the Spirits of my Neighbour EULALIUS.

EULALIUS may be ſaid now to be one of your very rich Clergymen not worth a Groat; who is little known, and much eſteem'd by his few Friends; thankful for what Mercies he receives, and humble under Chaſtiſement: He is deſpis'd by the World for his Poverty; and pities the World for its Weakneſs; is a Friend to Mankind, and an Enemy to nothing but Vice. A LADY of his Acquaintance told him one Day ſhe was ſorry he had the Misfortune of being ſo poorly provided for in the Church, and aſk'd him if he had no better Chance for Preferment? ‘CHANCE, MISFOR⯑TUNE, and good or bad Luck, MADAM, re⯑plied he, are Words without a Meaning, or they ſignify the Direction of PROVIDENCE. If you have no Meaning in theſe Words, you [25]tell me you are ſorry for nothing; if you have, 'tis impious; for 'tis thinking the Source of MERCY cruel. But, as I think better of you, I take them to be Words of Courſe. He who depends on Providence can never want a Support: But ſay we are neglected, and all our Endeavours for a decent Support prove fruitleſs. He who conſiders that Death will ſoon relieve him, will by that Reflection not be diſmay'd, but find his Conſtancy ſupported.’

‘WERE the good and virtuous of Mankind, MADAM, wholly proſperous in this Life; did Goodneſs never meet with Oppoſition, or Merit lie under a Cloud, where would be the Trial, Victory, or Crown of VIRTUE? Where would the Virtues have their Theatre, or whence their [26]Names? Where would be TEMPERANCE or SELF-DENIAL? Where PATIENCE, MEEKNESS, MAGNANIMITY? Whence would theſe have their Being? What Merit ex⯑cept from Hardſhip? What VIRTUE without a Conflict?’

EULALIUS, tho' in theſe low Circumſtances, is often telling his Friends that he is very happy,—

and that he looks upon his Condition to be for the beſt; which puts me in mind of a Gentleman who, coming from IRELAND to ENGLAND, and go⯑ing into the Packet-Boat, and the Entering-Rope breaking, fell into the Pinnace, and broke his Leg. "Well, ſaid he, 'tis all for the better." His Friends aſk'd him, how he could think break⯑ing his Leg, attended with the Loſs of his Voyage, &c. could be for the better? ‘PRO⯑VIDENCE, [27]VIDENCE, replied he, knows beſt: I am ſtill of Opinion, 'tis for the better.’ He was car⯑ried back, the Packet-Boat ſail'd, founder'd in her Paſſage, and but one Man was ſav'd.

AND here 'tis pleaſant to obſerve, that tho' the Pavilion of the ALMIGHTY be thick Clouds, and he walks upon the Wings of the Wind; tho' his Providence be a great Abyſs, and the Swiftneſs and Secrecy of his Actings elude our Search, and baffle our Enquiries, ſo that we cannot diſcern when he acts by PREROGATIVE, when by LAW; yet, as is plain from this Relation, he does frequently exert a ſupernatural Force and Virtue for our Preſervation.

A LOW Condition in the World ſeems to all (my Friend!) a terrible Misfortune; its Sound is ſo, and that's all. Life, methinks, is various enough, and if one Livelihood fails, another may ſucceed: If one Rank of Life cannot be ſupported, a Clergyman may flouriſh very well in another. 'Tis but deſcending a Step lower, and the Event [28]would abundantly atone for the Condeſcenſion. 'Tis well known the MERCANTILE WORLD is indebted to an ingenious poor Clergyman, to his neglected Merit, for the curious Invention of the STOCKING FRAME; being out of Bread, and ignorant of any Means of Subſiſtence by DI⯑VINITY, he liv'd for ſome Time upon what his Wife got by KNITTING; and by curiouſly ob⯑ſerving the playing of the Needles whilſt ſhe was at Work, he framed in his Mind the famous Mo⯑del of the Frame, which has ſince prov'd of ſuch ſingular Advantage to that Branch of the BRITISH Manufactures, that it affords good Bread to Thou⯑ſands.

I REMEMBER a little Story of a Gentleman of GASCOIGNE, who inherited two thouſand Crowns a-year from his Father, commenced MAR⯑QUIS at PARIS, and, being a very volatile Ge⯑nius, ſoon got the better of his Fortune, and was reduced to the loweſt Ebb of Wretchedneſs. Yet, in the Midſt of it, he never loſt his Spirit and Courage, or impotently repin'd at what was not [29]to be remedy'd: But, with the ſmall Pittance he had left, purchaſed a MULE, and turn'd WA⯑TER-CARRIER. Some Time after which, as he was trafficking his Merchandize up and down the Streets, he happened to meet two of his old Companions, who would have avoided him for fear of giving him Pain, at being caught in ſuch an Equipage. But he prevented them, ſprung forward to ſalute them with his uſual Freedom, and when they ſeem'd to pity his ill Fortune, briſkly interrupted them by ſaying,—That he had Forty thouſand Crowns Worth of Water in the SEYNE, but, for want of Servants, he was obli⯑ged to ſell it himſelf.

I AM afraid very few among us in Diſtreſs diſ⯑play ſuch a Fortitude and Greatneſs of Soul; our Pride will not ſuffer us to do it; and we rather chuſe to have that very Pride wounded every Day in our Lives, by laying ourſelves open to the rich Man's Contumely, to Inſults and new Grievance, in intreating Obligations; to endure which with PATIENCE ſhould be beneath the Spirit of the [30]SACRED ORATOR. As to all other Sufferings we may rejoice in them with EULALIUS, and, with our BLESSED LORD, endure the CROSS and deſpiſe the SHAME.

LETTER III.

WE of this Profeſſion are likewiſe obliged to ſhew forth a ſincere LOVE of GOD, and not to take the RICHES or the PLEASURES of the World for our MASTERS. For Men that have devoted themſelves to this Employ, have ſet themſelves one Remove out of the World, GOD has received them into his immediate Service, and they are cre⯑ated, as it were, the DOMESTICKS of HEAVEN. Therefore we muſt always demonſtrate an extraor⯑dinary [32]Love to our peculiar Maſter; we muſt endeavour to have the greateſt and nobleſt Con⯑ceptions of his Power and Goodneſs, and to pro⯑pagate the ſame in others; we muſt be zealous of his Honour, to vindicate with Intrepidity and Bold⯑neſs his holy Name and Word from Blaſphemy, and thoſe Things which are conſecrated to his Ser⯑vice from Prophanation; we muſt afford all the Advice and Encouragement we can for Men to ob⯑ſerve his Commands, and diſſuade them to the ut⯑moſt from the Violation of them. We muſt like⯑wiſe give an eminent Example in the Worſhip of that GOD to whom we are ſo nighly related; we muſt never omit the worſhipping of GOD in our Families, by whoſe particular Bounty our Families are maintain'd; we that are Prieſts of his Temple muſt never be backward to offer up his Sacrifice there, be the common Votaries never ſo negligent.

A NOBLE ROMAN Youth,^* C. FABIUS [33]DORSO, in the Time of the Siege of the RO⯑MAN Capitol, to the great Aſtoniſhment of his [34]Countrymen as well as the Enemy, could come down from the Citadel amidſt the Darts of the GAULS, and perform a Yearly Sacrifice, peculiar to the FABIAN Family on the QUIRINAL HILL. And ſhall WE, the peculiar Miniſters of Heaven, be leſs careful of performing the Sacrifice of Praiſe and Thankſgiving to our LORD and Maſter in his Temple, than a private ROMAN Nobleman the holy Rites of his Family? We muſt, for ſo honourable a Maſter's Sake, endeavour to do all the Good we can to the Souls he has com⯑mitted to our Charge, to draw them out of the Snares of the Devil, and to lead them into the Way of Salvation, to grieve at their Miſcarriages, and to rejoice at their Amendment; to endeavour, to our utmoſt, to promote Piety and true Religion, to enlarge the Confines of the Goſpel, and the King⯑dom of our BLESSED LORD.

AND ſo likewiſe as to RICHES, which the vain World ſo courts and admires, we muſt not take them for our MASTERS, but with a de⯑cent Humility condeſcend to be eaſy in the Situa⯑tion [35]we are in, and endeavour rather by our De⯑ſerts to invite Preferments to us, than make any Tendency to them. We muſt not, when we are advanced to the moſt plentiful Station in the Church, only fill our Boſoms with the Fruits, and raiſe Families upon its Revenues; nor yet, if we meet with Diſappointments, muſt we be impatient, but ſtudy to live decently, creditably, and con⯑tentedly, according to our Conditions.

I HAVE often thought that the great polite ANCIENTS had nobler Notions of Wealth than we have, and behav'd with much more Patience and Magnanimity, than we generally do, under the Want of it. Many of them hugg'd their Po⯑verty more than even ſome Men do a Biſhoprick. The famous GRECIAN Lyrick ALCAEUS, on whoſe Tongue dwelt Rapture and Melody, out⯑brav'd Misfortune, and ſung, as we ſay, like a NIGHTINGALE.

LIKE him was the good-humour'd HO⯑RACE.—

ZENOPHON, whom ATHENAEUS calls [...], (lib. 2.) was en⯑dow'd with ſo heroick a Patience, and poſſeſs'd of ſo contented a Turn of Mind, that in Baniſh⯑ment he writ the politeſt, wiſeſt, uſefulleſt Syſtem of Works, and (to thoſe who can underſtand the DIVINENESS of a juſt SIMPLICITY) the moſt amiable, and even the moſt ſublime and ele⯑vating of the kind of all prophane and merely Hea⯑then Authors.

[37]ANTIQUITY ſcarce affords us a more exalted Character than that of VIRGIL'S EVANDER, who in a tatter'd Gown and homely Cottage bade Defiance to FORTUNE, and could addreſs AENEAS with—

THE Soul that is GREAT in itſelf, can be happy or content with a very little. EPICURUS uſed to ſay, ‘That with ſuch Fare as a mean Gar⯑den afforded, he could vie even with the GODS for Happineſs.’ Who could be happier than VIRGIL's honeſt Countryman, old CORITIUS?

[38] WHO, that reads this, deſpiſes not the Wealth, and pities not the Perſons of all the GREAT ONES upon Earth?

How ſmall a Particle of FORTUNE was an ample Competency for thoſe brave ROMANS, * MANLIUS CURIUS,^† L. QUINTIUS CINCINNATUS,^‡ VALERIUS POPLICOLA,^§ CORUNCANIUS,^‖ MENENIUS AGRIPPA,¹¹ [39]and C. FABRICIUS! It is worth thoſe Perſons while, methinks, who deſpiſe every human En⯑dowment in Compariſon with Riches, and think that there can be no real Greatneſs or diſtinguiſh'd Merit without a Flow of Wealth and Preferment, to attend to the Narration that Hiſtorians give us of theſe eminent Heathens.

[40]THE private Converſation which paſs'd be⯑tween C. FABRICIUS and King PYRRHUS, who wanted to make a Trial of his Conſtancy and Self-Denial, is ſo remarkable, that I ſhall here ſet Part of it down.— ‘C. FABRICIUS, ſaid the KING, as I ſincerely deſire to have all the reſt of the ROMANS for my Friends, ſo eſpecially I do you; whom I eſteem to excell all others for your Conduct both in Civil and Military [41]Affairs. Yet I am ſorry to ſee that you want one thing; for your Circumſtances are too nar⯑row to enable you to keep up the Porte becoming Men of Quality. I will not ſuffer this Frown of FORTUNE to make you uneaſy any longer; for I will give you ſuch Plenty of Gold and Silver, in Money and Plate, as will ſet you above the moſt opulent ROMAN in point of Riches. Becauſe I am perſuaded that nothing can be more worthy my princely Station and Fortune than relieving the oppreſſive Poverty of Men of Merit, who have preferred Glory to the heaping up of Riches. I look upon this as a moſt glorious Act; as an Act by which a Prince raiſes the moſt illuſtrious Monuments of his Royal Magnificence, and offers the moſt ſolemn and acceptable Sacrifice to the Gods. Therefore, if you will allow me to aſſiſt you with my Riches, I ſhall eſteem it as a Benefit receiv'd rather than beſtow'd.’

To which C. FABRICIUS, after a ſhort Si⯑lence, anſwered,— ‘MY POVERTY is ſo far [42]from being a Burthen or Inconvenience to me, that, on the contrary, whenever I compare my⯑ſelf to the Rich, my Condition ſeems to be in⯑finitely happier; and I number myſelf amongſt thoſe few, whoſe Lot it is to enjoy all the Fe⯑licity poſſible in this Life; and when thus rank'd, I feel the greateſt inward Delight, and am thankful for my Poverty. For while I deem it idle and fooliſh to covet Superfluity, and my little Field, when well cultivated and laid out, affords me all Neceſſaries, I know not for what Purpoſe I ought to be ſolicitous about greater Wealth. For all Nouriſhment is moſt pleaſant to me when ſeaſon'd with Hunger; and all Drink grateful when I am a-dry. I procure myſelf eaſy and quiet Sleep by Labour. If my Cloaths keep out Cold I am ſatisfied with them: In Houſhold-Furniture I like that beſt, which is moſt fit and convenient for the Uſe to which it is applied, and at the ſame Time cheapeſt. Wherefore I ſhould be doubly un⯑juſt, if I ſhould accuſe FORTUNE for not having afforded me more Riches, than my [43]NATURE requires, which neither inſpires me with a Deſire of Superfluities, or Dexterity to procure them.’

‘THEREFORE with this Indigence of mine, I look upon myſelf as richer than the moſt opu⯑lent of other Men, nay, than even you yourſelf; for I have ſo much, that I can deſire no more; as to you, would you have come over to ITALY, if you had not thought yourſelf poor, notwith⯑ſtanding you poſſeſs EPIRUS and other Do⯑minions? Ay, but ſay you, Wealth fairly en⯑ables us to do Good to others! and my Poverty puts it out of my Power to help any one! But truly this gives me no more Trouble, than that I am not more than ordinary furniſh'd with other Things; that GOD hath not granted me un⯑common KNOWLEDGE, nor the Art of PRO⯑PHECY, for the Benefit of thoſe who want them; nor many other excellent Endowments. And if I employ the Talents I poſſeſs for the Intereſt of my native State and Friends, if by aſſiſting every Man in every reſpect that I am [44]capable, I ſuffer my good Offices to extend to all, I think hitherto I am free from Crime on this Score. Nor can you in Juſtice call theſe Things mean and trifling, which you pretend to ſet ſo high a Value upon, and are ſo ready to purchaſe at the Expence of great Treaſure.’

WE are informed, that the KING, having heard him talk in this Manner, deſiſted, from far⯑ther Trial of his Virtue at that Time. But next Day he ordered FABRICIUS to be called to him, and, in order to frighten him, having placed an ELEPHANT behind a Curtain at their Backs, as they were diſcourſing together, the Curtain was drawn up all of a ſudden at the Command of the King, and the Beaſt laid his Trunk on FABRICIUS'S Head, and ſet up a terrible Noiſe and braying. But the undaunted HERO turn'd about very calmly, and, ſmiling, ſaid; ‘Your Gold could not tempt me Yeſterday, nor hath your Beaſt frighted me To-day.’

[45]THE ſame FABRICIUS, whoſe whole Side-Board of Plate conſiſted only of a Silver Salt-ſeller, and a little Diſh which ſtood on a Stool of Cornel-Wood, when the SAMNITE Embaſſadors brought him Money and fine Furniture, carried his Hands wide open to his EARS, thence to his EYES, NOSE, MOUTH, THROAT, and at laſt down to his BELLY, ſaying, ‘While I can govern THESE, I ſhall want nothing; but do ye car⯑ry back the MONEY to them who need it.’

PARE away VANITY and AMBITION, dear Sir, and there is no ſolid and natural Contentment but may be had with the ſmalleſt Income or Preferment, If we have not a ſtately BRICK HOUSE, and the coſtlieſt Sort of Furniture, we may perhaps have as convenient a little Cottage as C. FABRI⯑CIUS or M. CURIUS had, with decent Ne⯑ceſſaries in it; and if we have not a Bottle of PORT or FALERNIAN, we may have Plenty of Spring Water, which is every whit as clear and wholſome, as if it darted from the Breaſts of a MARBLE NYMPH, or the Urn of a RIVER GOD.

[46]IF we cannot be moderate in our Deſires, no Greatneſs can ſatisfy or content us; ſtill if we could mount up a little higher in the Church, if we could get that RECTORY, or that DEANERY, or that BISHOPRICK, we would be happy, we would obtain all our Wiſhes. But yet at laſt, when we have got up to the very Top of the PEAK of TENERIFF, to the very Summit of Preferment, we are in exceeding great Danger of breaking our Necks downwards, but in no Poſſi⯑bility of aſcending upwards into the Seat of Tran⯑quillity above the Moon. The firſt ambitious Men in the World, the OLD GIANTS, are ſaid to have made an Attempt of ſcaling HEAVEN, in Deſpight of the GODS, and that they caſt OSSA upon OLYMPUS, and PELION upon OSSA; two or three Mountains more, they thought, wou'd have done their Buſineſs, but the Thunder of OMNIPOTENCE ſpoil'd all their Work when they were come to the third Story.

IT is recorded of the ſame PYRRHUS, King of Epirus, whom I juſt now mention'd, that fight⯑ing [47]for one Territory after another was his con⯑ſtant Amuſement to the laſt Gaſp, without ever arriving at the MERRY HOUR which he pro⯑pos'd as the Iſſue of all his Victories; for he was knock'd in the Head at ſtorming of a City, and like a true reſtleſs Hero died in his Vocation.— ‘^* What, SIR, do you propoſe in this Expe⯑dition againſt the ROMANS, ſaid his Prime-Miniſter, CINEAS, to him? To conquer all ITALY, anſwer'd PYRRHUS: And what next, ſaid the Counſellor? Then we will tranſport our Forces into SCILLY, and make that Kingdom our own, reply'd his Majeſty: And what Ex⯑pedition will you go on after that? Then, quoth the enterprizing Hero, we'll ſail to AFRICA, and ſubdue that Part of the World. And what, continues the Stateſman, remains to be done then? Why then—then, ſays the Mo⯑narch, we'll ſit down and be merry over our BOWLS. And what, anſwer'd his Miniſter, hinders us from doing that NOW.’

[48]MEN of great Parts and Learning who are ever uneaſy, always reſtleſs in their Cures, and ſtruggling for Wealth and Grandeur, as CHIL⯑DREN do for RATTLES, are as weak as PYRRHUS, and weaker than Children. The harmleſs BABES, indeed, are innocently amus'd with the tinkling of the BELLS, but the Amuſe⯑ment of the ECCLESIASTICK INFANTS is attended both with the Loſs of Time and Reputa⯑tion; they are in a continual Hunt after Baubles till the End of the Lottery of Life approaches, till the laſt Minute, like the laſt BENEFIT-TICKET upon the WHEEL, puts a Stop to their Career.

I OFTEN look upon theſe aged CHILDREN, or GAMBLERS for Preferment, in the ſame merry Light with thoſe that ſly down from a Steeple, dance on a Rope, whiſtle, ſing, walk, run, hop, or tumble into the golden Lap of FORTUNE. 'Tis not unlikely but ſome of them are Gamblers all their childiſh Days, that they may not ſeem to want Activity, or Life and Spirit, to be engaged in the buſy Scenes of Life; like DIOGENES, [49]who, upon the Approach of PHILIP of MA⯑CEDON with an Army towards CORINTH, and the Inhabitants running in great Conſterna⯑tion with Materials for its Defence, took his TUB, which was his Dwelling, and with great Induſtry roll'd it up and down the CRANEUM, the uſual Place of his Reſidence before the City, and, being aſk'd the Reaſon of his whimſical Labour, an⯑ſwer'd, ‘He did it that he might not be the only idle Perſon among ſo many that were in ACTION.’

BUT to be ſerious. We of the CLERGY ought, of all Men, to ſhew a CONTEMPT of worldly Things; we muſt not ambitiouſly aſpire to great Preferment, nor indecently progg and ſolicit for any by a criminal LOWLINESS or ſawning Obſequiouſneſs of Behaviour, by a ſervile Submiſſion, and falling into the corrupt Taſte and Pleaſures of great People; tho' I know they are reckon'd eſſential Qualities and Accompliſhments for a Man that would now-a-days riſe in the World. But 'tis obſervable, that thoſe that arrive at Pre⯑ferment [50]this Way, would gladly forget the Steps of that deteſtable LADDER by which they aſcended into it, and eagerly wiſh that others would forget it too: like a STREAM running, as ſoon as it enlarges itſelf as far it can from its little FOUN⯑TAIN, and labouring, as it were, by its Circlings and Wanderings, to conceal the MEANNESS of its RISE.

LETTER IV.

AS we of this Profeſſion muſt not take the RICHES, ſo neither muſt we take the PLEASURES of the World, for our MASTERS: We muſt not prefer them to that intellectual Pleaſure and divine Peace, which is attainable by Men alone, and denied to Beings of a lower Claſs. Any Man may ſee the great Diſpro⯑portion there is between the reſin'd Pleaſures of conſcious Innocence, and ſenſual Gratifications, unleſs he has parted with his nobleſt Prerogative, [52]his REASON, and, by intemperate and diſorder⯑ly Living, made thinking his Torment. The PLEASURE of SENSE, that is not reſin'd by Virtue, is like a LAND-FLOOD, impetuous, muddy, and irregular, it leaves nothing behind it but a Group of Impurity: But the PLEASURE of VIRTUE is like a STREAM, which runs in⯑deed within its Banks, but it runs ſmooth and clear, and is as pure as the limpid FOUNTAIN from whence it flows.

PURITY of Heart is of all others the moſt excellent, as well as the moſt elevated Virtue; and therefore a poor GREEK MAIDEN, being aſk'd what FORTUNE ſhe would bring her Huſ⯑band, anſwer'd truly and bravely, — ‘I will bring him what is more valuable than any Trea⯑ſure, a Heart unſpotted; and that Portion of Virtue without a Stain, which was all that deſcended to me from my PARENTS.’

THE wild ACADEMICKS give ample Teſti⯑mony of the Slavery and Wretchedneſs of Vice. [53]They may extoll their criminal Delights to the Skies, and point their Wit as ſharply as they pleaſe againſt a virtuous regular Conduct; but when they come afterwards to pay the neceſſary Tribute to their commanding Pleaſures, we hear their pathetick Moans, and find the inward Diſ⯑cord and Calamity of their Lives. We may of⯑ten read in their Looks the dolorous Confeſſion in behalf of Virtue, and ſee in their very Eyes how the Caſe ſtands:— ‘Nam veroe Voces tum demum Pectore ab imo eliciuntur.’

WHO can expreſs the Horrors that flow in upon the Men of Pleaſure, when cool Reflection brings their guilty Scenes to View? How ſharp are the Upbraidings of an offended Conſcience! What in⯑ward Perturbations and Agonies diſtract the Mind! As that poiſonous Plant in the Iſland of SARDI⯑NIA, which, if^* FRENSHEMIUS and^† PRO⯑COPIOUS¹⁵ [54]ſay true, cauſes a Convulſion in the Face, whereby a Perſon ſeems to die laughing; ſo are the Smiles that ſenſual Gratifications and Love-Intrigues produce, but falſe and hollow at the beſt, and, at laſt, fatal.

I HAVE ſomewhere read of an unlucky Miſtake made by one of the FRENCH BISHOPS, an intriguing Gentleman among the Ladies, who, writing to a certain young DUTCHESS at PARIS, and, at the ſame Time, to the CARDINAL DE [55]FLEURY, directed one Letter for the other. That for the DUTCHESS, which the CARDINAL receiv'd, was as follows.

‘I have juſt now wrote to his OLD EMI⯑NENCE, my charming QUEEN, to intreat his Leave to return to PARIS; I make no Doubt but he will grant it: As for the reſt, the Air is ſo pure here, that I have acquir'd ſo good a State of Health, that I reckon I ſhall be able to give you moſt ſenſible Proofs of it, when I come to have the Happineſs of ſeeing you.’

YOU may gueſs how the PRELATE was ſur⯑priz'd when he read the following Anſwer which the CARDINAL immediately ſent him.

‘HIS OLD EMINENCE adviſes you to ex⯑tinguiſh your Paſſion: His Majeſty orders you to continue in your Dioceſe till further Orders, and requires that your Life and Converſation may be as pure as the Air you breathe; and that you make no other Uſe of your good State [56]of Health, but to diſcharge the Duties of your FUNCTION.’

WE of this Profeſſion muſt alſo be very mode⯑rate in the Enjoyment of thoſe other good Things which GOD has allotted us, ſuch as our DIET, DRESS, and CLOATHING. — When People ſee a Clergyman labouring and toiling among a Squadron of Diſhes, grunting under the Load and Repletion of the ſtrongeſt Meats, panting almoſt in vain for Breath, but quite in vain for Thought, and reminded only of his Exiſtence by the unſa⯑voury Returns of an OLIO, what Good can they expect from ſuch inglorious Work?

DISTEMPERS, of all Complections, are the juſt Rewards of ſuch a Senſualiſt, the never-failing Trophies of ſuch a CULINARY DIVINE, who eats according to the Laws of ſome eminent Epi⯑cure at PONTACK'S, and has no Reliſh for plain [57]Beef and Pudding, but muſt have his fricaſſeed Frogs and his Ortalans. The Calamity would not be ſo great, if the Offspring of ſuch a Compound Piece of Clay were no Sufferers; but his Children are commonly a Race of pale-faced, ſpindle⯑ſhank'd LILLIPUTIANS, to ſee the moſt vi⯑gorous of whom it would make one's Heart ach. —A ſingle Regiment would put Fifty Thouſand of them to Flight.

THERE is alſo a Decency and Moderation to be obſerv'd in our Attire, Dreſs, and Cloathing.— A Gentleman in a Gown and Caſſock muſt be a little Soul who converſes no higher than a LOOK⯑ING-GLASS, ESSENCES, and PERUKES, and a fantaſtick Dreſs; he may help to make up the Shew of the World, who flutters about with a frizzled Head-piece, is ſleek with Perfumes, and ſhines in flowing Robes of Paduaſoy, but muſt not be reckon'd among the rational Inhabitants of it.

LET the voluptuous, the fantaſtick, and the finical, be as extravagant as they pleaſe; they muſt, [58]at the ſame Time, diſcover their Inconſiſtency, and live in Contradiction to that Principle, on which in the Pulpit they pretend to ground their higheſt Entertainment, when in paſſionate Strains they preach up the Beauty and Charms of an abſtemious Life, and Temperance in Attire. This I would call the LEPROSY of ELOQUENCE; for, un⯑doubtedly, ſuch Leproſies are the worſt of any.— I would adviſe ſuch leprous ORATORS to ac⯑cuſtom themſelves a little to the Exerciſe of SELF-DISSECTION, and to afford themſelves a little Time to think in private, for their own particular Benefit and Uſe, ‘Et verae Numeroſque Modoſque edicere Vitae,’ and not be ſo often retir'd as they are, and yet never be by themſelves.

IT muſt be confeſs'd, indeed, that few Things make a Man appear more deſpicable, or more pre⯑judice his Hearers againſt what he is going to of⯑fer, than an aukward or pitiful Dreſs; inſomuch [59]that I fancy, had^* TULLY himſelf pronounced one of his Orations in tatter'd Robes, more Peo⯑ple would have fneer'd at his Dreſs, than have ad⯑mir'd his Eloquence.

WE muſt likewiſe, DEAR SIR, be extreamly delicate in our Choice of DIVERSIONS; we muſt often tread in the rugged Tract even when there is little Occaſion for it; DESIRE muſt be fre⯑quently confin'd within the Circle preſcrib'd by CUSTOM only, when there would be really no Harm with Decency to indulge it. For, tho' in the very Road to Virtue, there are ſeveral PRIM⯑ROSE-PATHS, (to uſe the Expreſſion of LAERTES in SHAKESPEARE) which may invite the Step, without leading abſolutely out of the Road itſelf, [61]or offering any indecent Proſpect to the View; yet the World expects a CLERGYMAN ſhould tread the direct Road, without going to the Right or Left, for fear he ſhould wander too far, or trip in the Circumflex.

ALTHOUGH a Fondneſs for the Entertain⯑ments of the STAGE is the prevailing Temper of the Age we live in, yet it would but ill become us to give any Encouragement to them. For the falſe Notions of Honour there propagated, the agreeable Shade which is caſt over unlawful Love, and the Ridicule and Contempt with which all Se⯑riouſneſs and Religion is generally treated, makes me think it too dangerous for the young, and un⯑becoming the old. The Gay, the Polite, and the Witty, may perhaps run the Rigg upon us, the Toupees may laugh at us, and the Ladies frown upon us, if we do not make a Party with them to the Play-houſe, but we muſt not regard that. I am, indeed, aſham'd to tell you, that a Man may read the COMEDIES of the ancient HEATHENS with leſs Offence to his Modeſty and Virtue, than [62]thoſe of modern CHRISTIANS. A vicious Sen⯑timent in a theatrical Performance at ATHENS would have coſt the Poet his Liberty or Life. When EURIPIDES made one of his Actors ſay, — ‘Riches are the ſupreme Good, and with Reaſon excite the Admiration of Gods and Men;’—the whole Theatre roſe upon him, and he had been baniſhed immediately, if he had not deſired Patience till the End of the Play, where the Speaker of this Sentence periſhes miſerably. Were the Stage under proper Regulations, it would be a rational and agreeable Entertainment, and I cannot ſee why a Clergyman, as well as ano⯑ther Perſon, might not then go to a Play; it might then as much help, as it now hinders the the Cauſe of VIRTUE.

WE muſt never frequent GAMING-HOUSES, to play at BILLIARDS, &c. but fly from the Infection of them with Horror; 'tis really my Opinion, that this ſingle Depravity puts Thouſands of People in the Kingdom to greater Expence, [63]than would maintain the SCIENCES in all their Glory.

GAMING was ſo much diſ-eſteem'd among the greateſt of Men formerly, that the King of PARTHIA is reported to have ſent a Bale of golden Dice to DEMETRIUS, on Purpoſe to upbraid his Inconſtancy. And COBILON, the LACEDEMONIAN, being ſent to CORINTH for obtaining a mutual League and Friendſhip between thoſe two Cities, when he ſaw the Captains and Senators of CORINTH playing at Dice, returned without doing any Thing; ſaying, that he would not ſo much as tarniſh the Glory of the SPAR⯑TANS, as that it ſhould be ſaid, they had made a League with GAMESTERS.

I AM far from being an Enemy to the Enter⯑tainment of a CONCERT; I even think Muſick a Science peculiarly neceſſary amongſt us, to ſoften our rugged Genius, to prepare the Way to Polite⯑neſs and Good-breeding. In HOMER we read of a HARPER to whom ALCINOES and [64]ULYSSES willingly lent their Ears. In VIR⯑GIL, JOPAS both ſings and plays, while DIDO and AENEAS give Attention. Such is the Force of Muſick, that ORPHEUS aſſuaged the Tem⯑peſt of the ARGONAUTS with a Song; and, if there be any Authority in FABLES, we find that tho' ARGUS had his Head guarded with a hundred Eyes, yet they were all charm'd aſleep with the Sound of one ſingle PIPE.

But even this Taſte for muſical Diverſions a Man may encourage with too great Profuſion, and he may become a Dupe to Sounds, to the Prejudice of his Underſtanding.

THO' I am for taking the higheſt Care to ex⯑hilerate Religion, yet I would, by no Means, en⯑courage your going to dance, &c. at ASSEM⯑BLIES. Dancing may be a very neceſſary Qua⯑lification [65]for Youth, as it gives a Perſon a genteel Carriage, and an eaſy graceful Behaviour; but I don't know of any Buſineſs a Gentleman in Holy Orders has with it. When CYRUS the GREAT demanded the Advice of his Counſellors about the beſt Method of keeping a Nation which he had conquer'd in Subjection, he was advis'd to let SINGERS and DANCERS be introduced a⯑mongſt them, and let their Youth be brought up in learning the LUTE, and they would ſoon languiſh into Foppery and Effeminacy, and loſe all Senſe of Liberty. This will always be the Caſe whenever, like the^* LYDIANS, we be⯑come [66]a Nation of Bel Eſprits, and the warbling Gullet of a FARANELLI, or the lulling Pipe of a^† LYCIS, ſhall be more admired than the manly Eloquence of a^‡ HUTTON, a^§ DRUM⯑MOND, or a^‖ TOTTIE.

CAUTIOUSNESS and Circumſpection in our taking a GLASS at a Tavern, or at our own Houſes, is a Duty which is alſo more particularly incumbent upon us of the CLERGY.—'Tis true, our SAVIOUR exhorts us to CHEARFULNESS and GOOD HUMOUR, in the ſtrongeſt Man⯑ner, and under the moſt familiar and pleaſant [67]Images: Even the firſt MIRACLE he ever wrought, carries with it a certain agreeable Fe⯑ſtivity and Alacrity. And old NESTOR in HOMER, as ſage a Soul as he was, could take a cherruping Glaſs, and be very merry: ‘ [...].’ Which AUSONIUS tranſlates, ‘Concuſſit quamvis potantem NESTORA Clamor.’ But we may ſometimes, by our imprudent Free⯑doms, betray weaker Chriſtians into real Sin; they, for Inſtance, by keeping the ſame Com⯑pany, or the ſame Hours, which we do, may act very wickedly; for 'tis not to be ſuppoſed, that they ſhould have ſo much Metaphyſicks as to di⯑ſtinguiſh between an unſeaſonable Sitting for Diſ⯑courſe-ſake, or for Drink. We muſt therefore abridge ourſelves of many little Liberties which other Men lawfully take, both in our Words and Behaviour in Company. We muſt avoid not only Guilt, but Scandal too; becauſe Scandal may do [68]as much Miſchief in our Profeſſion as Guilt, and Men will be as far from imitating our Practice, or practiſing our Doctrines, if they believe us to be immoral, as if we were really ſo. We muſt at⯑temper our Diſcourſe over a GLASS with a de⯑cent Chearfulneſs, and, as it were, a pleaſant un⯑affected Seriouſneſs. For by this we may even then, probably, obtain the Converſion of ſome miſ-guided Perſons, who are averſe to our Com⯑munion only for the general Neglect of this; or, at leaſt, we ſhall gain their better Opinion, and we ourſelves ſhall not be the worſe Men for it. I confeſs, the wicked Hypocriſy of thoſe pretended godly Miniſters in CROMWELL'S Days, that were carrying on Rebellion and Sacrilege with ſo much ſanctimonious Preciſeneſs, has entailed ſuch a laſting Scandal upon the outward Form of GODLINESS, as hath made good Men ever ſince very cautious of uſing it; but, in Oppoſition to them, we have, perhaps, carried the Point too far on the other Side, we have given them Occa⯑ſion to cenſure ſome of our FREEDOMS, as we have done their PRECISENESS. Very worthy [69]of our Attention is the Behaviour of ARISTIP⯑PUS. ARISTIPPUS wore neither the formal Beard, nor the ſour ſevere Aſpect of an IN⯑STRUCTOR, but mingling himſelf in all Com⯑panies, artfully pick'd Occaſions, as if by Chance, to rectify an Error, or prevent a Vice; by this Means, his Virtue became the Faſhion, and Men were reformed from Vice, while they thought they were only growing polite.

BECAUSE 'tis always expected, DEAR SIR, that Men of a liberal Education ſhould be no Strangers to GOOD BREEDING, we muſt, by no Means, neglect the Culture of that ſocial Vir⯑tue. —A VIRTUE that has all the Heightening of Embelliſhment and Gracefulneſs: 'Tis Bene⯑volence brought into Action with all the Aſſem⯑blage of Propriety and Excellence: 'Tis the Friend of Society, and the Poliſh of Science: It regulates Life and Conduct, refines upon Happineſs, en⯑larges the Circle of Enjoyment, and is the Im⯑provement of Pleaſure: It obliges us to behave with Decency and Elegance, and quickens our At⯑tention [70]to the good Qualities of others. COM⯑PLAISANCE is, indeed, its Reſemblance; but only as a SHADOW is of a SUBSTANCE. It is only the Varniſh, the Maſque of it. GOOD BREEDING is the real Ornament of the Soul, made viſible and ſet in the faireſt Point of Light. Our modern Complaiſance, like falſe WIT, has ſomething glaring in it which ſtrikes the Injudici⯑ous with a kind of Admiration; but, like falſe WIT, has no other Effect on People of Senſe than to produce Ridicule and Contempt.

THE Deſign of SCHOOLS, the Uſe of UNI⯑VERSITIES, the Benefit of CONVERSATION, ſhould all, in ſome Meaſure, centre in this great Point—GOOD BREEDING. No one can be properly call'd a Gentleman, who has not made Uſe of every Opportunity to enrich his own Ca⯑pacity, and ſettle the Elements of good Behaviour, which he may improve at Leiſure. There are Numbers of Perſons of our Profeſſion, who may juſtly claim Reputation for a ſingle Excellence, that in all others are defective and inconſiderable, [71]for the Want of this general Accompliſhment.— A Variety of Incidents agree to make the Want of it very common. Bad Principles of Education when at SCHOOL; an ill Choice of Acquaintance at entering into the UNIVERSITY; the unhappy Bluntneſs of TUTORS who undertake to inform us, and an untoward Diſpoſition of our own. But the Frequency or Confirmation of an Evil, ſhould never diſcourage us from endeavouring to ſur⯑mount it; and if it is grown quite deſperate, there is the more Neceſſity for oppoſing it with the greater Vigour. I muſt own, that little Od⯑dities and Singularities of Behaviour in a Gentle⯑man of a liberal Education, whoſe Mind is very much accuſtom'd to a Habit of Study and Thoughtfulneſs, may be ſometimes excuſed with Candour and Indulgence; they may be only like Spots, perhaps, in the SUN, or Aſperities in a DIAMOND; or may be as MOLES and DIMPLES, which hinder not a Face from being beautiful, tho' that Beauty be not regular; or of the Number of thoſe amiable Imperfections which we ſee in the [72]FAIR SEX, and which we paſs over without a ſtrict Examination, when they are accompanied with greater Graces.

THERE is another Particular, in my Opinion, DEAR SIR, of no ſmall Conſequence to the Sup⯑port of our Character, and that is, to retain in our Memory our poor KINDRED and RELATIONS, tho' never ſo remote; for nothing is more unbe⯑coming a Clergyman than a Forgetfulneſs either of his poor Friends or his Parents, which is always imputed to an affected, diſdainful Superiority and Pride.

A GENTLEMAN who was on the Road of ALGIERS ſome Years ago, was an Eye and Ear Witneſs of the following Story.—One Day as ſome Chriſtian Captives, who had been ranſom'd, were going to be diſcharg'd, the Town-Cruizers brought in a Swediſh Veſſel; one of them hearing it was of that Nation, and being from thence him⯑ſelf, was very deſirous to ſee the Crew, when, to his great Surprize, he ſaw his own Father (who [73]was Maſter of the Ship) in Company; the Son knew the Father, but the Father (who had loſt him when a Youth many Years) knew not the Son, having given him up as dead long before, not hearing any thing of him. The Son ſoon made himſelf known to the Father, who em⯑braced him with great Tenderneſs; but their Un⯑happineſs to meet in that Place was grievous to them both. The young Man addreſs'd himſelf to his Father in this Manner:— ‘The Slavery you are going into will be inſupportable to you, and ſoon put an End to your Life, the Thoughts of which is Death to me; I have been here a great many Years, and know the Country, the People, and their Work; if they will accept of me in your Room, I will go back into Slavery, and you ſhall go Home again; I know, if it ſhould pleaſe GOD to enable you, I ſhall be re⯑deem'd; if not, GOD'S Will be done.’ The Moors readily accepted the Exchange; ſo the Fa⯑ther returned Home, and the Son back in his Stead into Slavery.

[74]GELON, the Son of HIERO, King of SYRACUSE, (who, after living upwards of Fifty Years, died before his Father) from a Moderation and Affection very uncommon among Men, choſe rather to want his Kingdom for EVER than be de⯑priv'd of his Father, whom he honour'd with a ſtrict Duty and Obedience to the laſt Minute of his Life.

JUSTIN, in his Hiſtory, gives us a Deſcrip⯑tion of Filial and Parental Affection, which is ex⯑tremely moving and pathetick. 'Tis that Part where he is ſpeaking of the approaching Death of AGATHOCLES, the Sicilian Tyrant, and of his Wife and Children going into Exile.

JOSEPH'S affectionate Behaviour to his BRE⯑THREN, as it is related in Holy Writ, after the Death of his Father JACOB, is attended with every Circumſtance of FRATERNAL LOVE and Regard, and deſerves our moſt ſerious Conſide⯑ration.

‘AND when JOSEPH'S Brethren ſaw that their Father was dead, they ſaid, JOSEPH will peradventure hate us, and will certainly requite us all the Evil which we did unto him.—And they ſent Meſſengers unto JOSEPH, ſaying, Thy Father did command before he died, ſay⯑ing, —So ſhall ye ſay unto JOSEPH, Forgive I pray thee now, the Treſpaſs of thy Brethren, and their Sin; for they did unto thee Evil: and now, we pray thee, forgive the Treſpaſs of the Servants of the GOD of thy Father. And [76]JOSEPH wept when they ſpake unto him.— And his Brethren alſo went and fell down be⯑fore his Face: and they ſaid, Behold we be thy Servants.—And JOSEPH ſaid unto them, Fear not: for am I in the Place of GOD?—But as for you, ye thought Evil againſt me; but GOD meant it unto good, to bring to paſs, as it is this Day, to ſave much People alive.— Now therefore fear ye not: I will nouriſh YOU, and your LITTLE ONES. And he comforted them, and ſpake kindly unto them^*.’

LETTER V.

ANOTHER Virtue, which we are par⯑ticularly obliged to practiſe, is CHA⯑RITY. —We know the APOSTLE recommended Charity as the Principal of all Chriſtian Virtues, the Top and Height of our Re⯑ligion; he prefers it not only before FAITH and HOPE, but even ſets it beyond MARTYRDOM itſelf.— ‘If I give my Body to be burnt, and have not Charity, &c.’ We therefore that are the Preachers of Righteouſneſs, and the Propagators [78]of this bleſſed Religion, muſt be eminently cha⯑ritable in our Cenſures of other Men; we muſt hope all Things of them, believe the beſt, not miſtruſt worſe than does plainly appear, excuſe as far as poſſible their Failures, and draw a Veil over their Infirmities we are conſcious of, that they may not be eſpied by others. If there ſhould be any ſo uncharitable as, without Reaſon, to cenſure our Behaviour, ſo as to endeavour to leſſen us in the Opinion of our Pariſhioners, we muſt remember that Scandal never fails to recoil with double Force on the Authors, 'tis a noxious, but tranſitory Va⯑pour, which vaniſhes at the firſt Appearance of Light; we muſt reprove them gently, but not uſe them with Inhumanity; and ſhould they ſtill keep pecking at us, it will not be worth our while to inflict any heavy eccleſiaſtical Cenſure upon them. SPIRITUAL-COURT-OFFICERS, like knaviſh PHYSICIANS, ſeek Employment enough for themſelves, and would be glad to ſee every Pariſh in a Dioceſe always diſeas'd, that Men might ap⯑ply to them for Cure. Beſides, our Enemies may be ſuch, that they may not deſerve our Concern, [79]ſo as to feel the Weight of our Indignation, and the Vengeance of a Spiritual Court.

A MERCHANT, who reſided ſometimes at BENCOLEN, bought a tame ELEPHANT there, whom he ſuffer'd to go at large. This Animal uſed to walk about the Streets, in as civil and fa⯑miliar a Manner as any of the Inhabitants, and won⯑derfully delighted himſelf in viſiting the Shops; particularly thoſe which ſold Herbs and Fruit, where he was always well receiv'd, excepting only by a Couple of brutal Coblers, who dwelt in that Quarter. Theſe Fellows, without any Reaſon, took Offence at the generous Creature, and had once or twice attempted to wound his PROBOSCIS with their Awls. The noble Animal, who knew it was beneath him to cruſh them, did not diſdain to chaſtiſe them. He fill'd his large Muſcular Trunk with a conſiderable Quantity of Water, not the cleaneſt, and advancing to them, as uſual, cover'd them at once with a dirty Flood. The Fools were laugh'd at, and the Vengeance ap⯑plauded.

[80]A NOBLE MASTIFF, being once attack'd by a Parcel of little yelping Curs, and ſcorning to encounter ſuch Reptiles, contented himſelf with p—ſſing upon them, as they crept at his Heels.

WISE Men have upon all Occaſions treated Slan⯑derers with Contempt: DIOGENES hearing a vociferous Aſſaſſin of Characters exclaiming againſt PLATO, and charging him with a Thouſand Faults, told him with great Spirit and Juſtneſs, ‘SIR, your Malice is all thrown away; you will no more be believed in ſpeaking Evil of him, than I ſhould be, if I ſpoke Good of you.’ And PELOPIDAS made a very proper Anſwer to ſome who, to curry Favour with him, impeach'd certain brave Soldiers of having ſpoke diſreſpec⯑tively of him behind his Back: ‘It may be, ſaid he; but you will give me Leave to act according to the beſt Evidence I have; as for their Actions, I have been Eye-Witneſs of them; and, as to their Words, I have only heard what you have been pleaſed to tell me.’

[81]WE muſt retain kind and eaſy Thoughts of thoſe, my Friend, who differ in Judgment from us, eſpecially upon the Score of Religion, to think, as far as may be, that they do it upon unfeign'd Conviction of Conſcience, and for the Sake GOD's Glory; but however, we muſt have a very great Care of unchurching whole Countries and Nations by the Blaſt of one cholerick Expreſſion.—Nor are we only obliged to this MENTAL CHARITY which will coſt us nothing, but to be alſo liberally charitable, and bountiful of thoſe good Things GOD has bleſs'd us with: Of which there are two principal Branches, HOSPITALITY and ALMS. The Apoſtle does in two Places recommend HOSPITALITY to the CLERGY, 1 TIM. iii. 2. and TITUS i. 8. in that early Time of the Church when the Revenues were ſo miſerably ſmall, and therefore undoubtedly 'tis a Duty much more in⯑cumbent upon us in theſe Ages, when we are more amply provided for. This has been always looked upon by the HEATHENS as a moſt generous Virtue, and the Want of it a Note of Barbarity.

IN HOMER's Odyſſ. l. xv. v. 81. there is an admirable Rule to be obſerv'd in the Practice of HOSPITALITY:—

THE Doors of the noble Roman POPLICOLA were always open'd on the Outſide to ſave the People the common Civility of aſking Entrance; where all were equally admitted; where nothing that was reaſonable was denied; where even Miſ⯑fortune was a powerful Recommendation; nay, [83]I may add, where Want itſelf was a powerful Me⯑diator, and next to Merit.

TO ſtrike a friendleſs or helpleſs Perſon, the Stranger, the Poor and Needy, was reckon'd a cruel and barbarous Action in HOMER's Days. When ULYSSES, in the Diſguiſe of a Beggar, was ſtruck by ARTINOUS, the other Suiters (tho' repreſented as profligate Perſons) are ſhock'd at, and condemn the Action:—

[84]THE Uſe of HOSPITALITY formerly was to entertain chiefly Travellers upon the Road be⯑fore the World was generally provided with Houſes of publick Entertainment; but ſince its Office is to accommodate Perſons of a lower Rank with more grateful Proviſion than their Fortunes can attain to, to afford a free Recourſe to decayed Per⯑ſons to eat with us, whoſe Condition is not ſo ab⯑ject as to take up with a formal ALMS; and with the Remainder of our ample Proviſions to let the POOR have a convenient Suſtenance. There are likewiſe ſeveral CANONS of the CHURCH to enforce this LIBERALITY; but generally our LIBERAL EDUCATION makes us very ſeldom defective this Way, unleſs it be ſome few of our Order that are ſunk to the loweſt Degree of Baſeneſs, whom neither GOD's Word, nor Shame, nor the Contempt of all good Men, can work upon.

WE muſt likewiſe, to our Abilities, be chari⯑table to the POOR, and this is our Duty to do in common with other Chriſtians; but then we have [85]higher Obligations to it, becauſe we muſt recom⯑mend the Doctrines we preach more effectually by our EXAMPLE, but chiefly becauſe the Endow⯑ments of the CHURCH do, in ſome Meaſure, be⯑long to the POOR, and for ſome Ages of Chriſtia⯑nity the Poor had a FOURTH PART to their Share of the ECCLESIASTICAL REVENUE.

THE POOR are, as it were, the ORPHANS of HEAVEN, they have a Demand on us, as well as others, for the Neceſſaries of Life; and beſides, there is an Authority due to Diſtreſs; and as none of human Race is above the Reach of Sorrow, ſo none ſhould be above hearing the Voice of it. The Heathen Poet, in commending the Charity of DIDO to the TROJANS, ſpoke like a Chriſtian: ‘Non ignara Mali, miſeris ſuccurrere diſco.’ When ſharp Miſery, to uſe an Expreſſion of the divine SHAKESPEARE's, has worn a Man to the Bone; when his Eyes have loſt all their Spirit; [84] [...] [85] [...] [86]when his Hair and Beard is become wild and ne⯑glected, and every Muſcle of his Face expreſſive of Famine and Deſpair; when he is ſo depreſſed by Calamities, as not to be able to look upwards, or hope for Comfort, nay, unwilling to receive it, as if ſo painful a Being was not worth preſerving, and Death the only Relief that was truly to be wiſh'd for; every generous Heart muſt bleed, methinks, that HUMANITY ſhould be liable to ſo much Woe and Wretchedneſs. And there are in the World Perſons of ſuch great Merit, ſuch fine Qualities, reduced to this melancholy Circum⯑ſtance, by ſuch a Series of ſtrange Accidents, that one would think they were left by PROVI⯑DENCE on Purpoſe for Objects, on which the SON of FORTUNE ſhould exerciſe his Huma⯑nity and Virtue. And, believe me, in ſerving any of theſe poor unhappy People, we would find a more ſenſible Pleaſure, than can poſſibly ariſe from all the monied Bliſs of Bags and Coffers, the Splen⯑dour of Equipage, or the Exceſs of the Epicure's Table.

[87]THERE are ſome Perſons, indeed, who rather chuſe to fatten as Vagrants, than ſweet away their Lives in honeſt Labour and Induſtry; and there are others with artificial Sores, and artificial Legs, who counterfeit the Dreſs and Guiſe of Wretched⯑neſs ſo well, that no Painter can help them to a Circumſtance which can heighten the Image; but theſe have no Right to our Charity, they are worth no Body's Notice but the Legiſlature's; and as, I think, they are a publick Nuiſance, Mankind has a ſort of Demand on every Magiſtrate to have it remov'd out of the Way. But he muſt be of a ſavage Nature, that would turn ſuch Objects of Commiſeration away with Contempt, who have the ſtrongeſt Claim for Compaſſion and Aſſiſtance; ſuch as thoſe who are unable to ſupport themſelves by any Buſineſs or Employment; ſuch as thoſe, whoſe natural Pride and Modeſty will not ſuffer them to complain, who pine in ſecret, without a Chance for Relief, without a Friend to aſſiſt them, or the moſt diſtant Hope of better Days, who, perhaps, are forced to appear gay and ſmiling in the Midſt of Agony, and ſit mournful Spectators [88]of the Profuſion of others in Trifles, which would be a comfortable Support and Happineſs to them; ſuch as thoſe, who are compell'd to throw them⯑ſelves on the Mercy of their Fellow-Creatures, and truſt entirely to Providence for their Preſervation. Were there no Divine Command that enjoin'd us to look upon theſe as Perſons who had a natural Right to all we could ſpare, we ſhould beſide, I think, reckon it our higheſt Glory to make them eaſy.

THE Hiſtory of PERU aſſures us, that their INCAS eſteem'd, above all their Titles, that the higheſt, which call'd them LOVERS of the POOR: A Name more glorious than the FAELIX, PIUS, and AUGUSTUS of the ROMAN Emperors; which were Epithets of Flattery, deſerv'd by few of them.

SOME of our polite Moderns have contracted ſuch a Reverſe of what we call URBANITY or civil Manners to the POOR, that to ſee or meet a Perſon in Diſtreſs is offenſive. The very Aſpect [89]of one in Need is a Diſturbance to them, and they are ſure always to hate at firſt Sight. This inhu⯑mane, barbarous, ſavage Temper, is the immediate Oppoſite to that noble Affection which the good EUMAEUS in HOMER had for the POOR, and the helpleſs Stranger.

[90]AMONG the unhappy Wretches that lie in TARTARUS, VIRGIL places the COVETOUS, who only brood over their Treaſures,—Nec Par⯑tem poſuere ſuis,—and give no Part of it to their Fellow-Creatures who ſtand in Need of it; adding likewiſe, that the Offenders this Way are the moſt numerous of any.

THE poor WIDOW mentioned in Holy Writ, threw her MITE into the TREASURY, indeed a ſmall Matter in itſelf, but her own Want made it a great Proof of her charitable Diſpoſition, re⯑trenching her own Subſiſtence, and the Neceſſaries of Life, to contribute to the Relief of the Neceſ⯑ſities of others.

How does St PAUL magnify the CHARITY of the Churches of MACEDONIA? ‘^* In a great Trial of Affliction, the Abundance of their Joy and their deep Poverty abounded to the Riches of their LIBERALITY. For to their Power [91]I bear Record, yea, and beyond their Power, they were willing of themſelves.’

DR HOUGH, the late Biſhop of WORCESTER, was actuated by a ſecret celeſtial Influence to un⯑dervalue the ſplendid Incumbrances, the Over⯑flowings of CHURCH-REVENUES, to diffuſe Joy and Gladneſs thro' the tortur'd anxious Soul loaded with Affliction, to ſupport a falling Family, to give Encouragement to the diligent Hand, to preſerve the Portion of the helpleſs Orphan, and to raiſe the Head of the aged Widow, the mourn⯑ing Huſband, and the unhappy Stranger. The Lowlineſs, the Humanity, the Sweetneſs of Dr HOUGH'S Temper, prompted him daily to exert ſome noble Inclination or other for the Service of his Fellow-Creatures, and made his Superiority in the Church not only a Bleſſing to Mankind, but alſo the Source of innumerable Satisfactions, an Ocean of Joys to himſelf. Such is the Ef⯑fulgence of the Reputation he has left behind him, ſo great the Dignity of his CHARITABLE CHARACTER, that it may challenge Time to con⯑ſume [92]the Trophies it has rear'd, while every Monu⯑ment erected by Art or Labour muſt yield to Age, and moulder into Duſt.

THUS much for the MORAL QUALIFI⯑CATIONS which we of the Clergy are under an indiſpenſible Obligation to practiſe, if we would approve ourſelves unto GOD or our Hearers as eloquent Divines: How a Clergyman is to be qua⯑lified as to LEARNING, &c. or that he may be an able Speaker, or a WORKMAN that needeth not be aſhamed, I ſhall point out to you in our fu⯑ture Correſpondence.

LETTER VI.

I SHALL now touch upon ſome general Qua⯑lifications which all that are of the Body of the Clergy, eſpecially in theſe Ages of Li⯑terature, ought to be furniſh'd with. And firſt, a moderate Skill in PHILOSOPHY is requiſite in our Profeſſion. LOGICK, I think, is undeniably neceſſary for every one who pretends to Learning, and Skill in the Arrangement and Diſpoſition of his Sentiments or Ideas. And if we would become Maſters of fine Reaſoning, we muſt not only ap⯑ply [94]ourſelves cloſely to the Study of LOGICK, but alſo take Care that the Ariſtotelian Authors we read be of the right ſort. This Country never produced a more modeſt, uſeful, or entertaining one to begin with, in my Opinion, than Dr WATTS. He ſteers to the Coaſts of this kind of Philoſophy with as much Caution, as if he was afraid of ſplitting upon the Rock of ſome unwar⯑rantable Deſire. And what I reckon is very much to his Praiſe, he never grows trifling, or troubles us with what is of no Importance; and has this Excellency beſide, which few Authors of this Rank have, he writes in a Manner that is very taking and intelligible to young Gentlemen, and furniſhes them with all the neceſſary Materials for their Improvement.

I HAVE always thought, that LOGICK would go down more glibly with moſt of our young Students, eſpecially in ſome Colleges, if they were not cramm'd ſo much with it. I am ſenſible it would ſuit more with their Inclinations, and they would not ſo often mutiny and declare War againſt [95]venerable CRACKENTHORP and BURGESDI⯑CIOUS. A Man who has a Genius, and whoſe Profeſſion ſhould lead him to the Study of Divi⯑nity, ſhould not, methinks, ſpend ſo much of his Time in Altercation, as they do, who grow grey almoſt in ſtudying the Wiles and Subtilties of it. But, as to this Matter, I reſign my Judgment, with entire Condeſcenſion, to my Superiors. I ſhall only add, that to me there appears to be a great Deal of Difference between the Practice of ARISTOTLE and our modern Schoolmen. He, by the ſame mental Eye with which he took in the Power and Quality of every Object in Nature, likewiſe ſurvey'd the Properties of ELOQUENCE, which at the ſame Time had but a ſecond Place in his Eſteem; but the others, who are ſuch dear Lovers of Diſputation, dwell almoſt upon that ſingle Province; they want the Prudence and good Senſe of ARISTOTLE, tho' in this ſingle Point, they out-do him in Practice and Application.

MR^* OCILVY in his Deſcription of PERSIA [96]tells us, that the PERSIANS have all ARISTOTLE'S Works tranſlated into ARABICK, and call him DANJA PIALA, that is, the CUP of the WORLD; for as we may uſe the CUP to refreſh ourſelves, ſo we may likewiſe to Inebriation; ſo according to their Opinion, we may uſe and miſ⯑uſe Philoſophy; for they ſay, that ſtrong Liquor and Philoſophy make good Orators, but Exceſs of both makes wiſe Men Fools.

A MODERATE Skill in ETHICKS and the vulgar METAPHYSICKS, PHYSIOLOGY and the MATHEMATICKS, is alſo requiſite, DEAR SIR, in our Profeſſion.—MORALITY gives a Rationale, a demonſtrative Rectitude or Pravity of the Virtues and Vices we are ſpeaking to, it adds a mighty Guſt eſpecially to thoſe of a philoſophical Palate, which a bare Scripture-Reaſoning has no Effect upon. The vulgar METAPHYSICKS is eſſential to Divinity as 'tis handled in later Ages; without ſome Portion of it, we cannot be able to diſpute, or write, or talk Divinity in pro⯑per Terms. PHYSIOLOGY and the MATHE⯑MATICKS [97]ſeem the moſt remote from our Profeſſion, and yet we may ſee of what Conſe⯑quence they are to Divinity from reading Mr BOYLE'S LECTURES. How ſtrong, how for⯑cible is Truth phyſically and mathematically de⯑monſtrated, how guarded and fortified is our Re⯑ligion on all Hands, how keen and poignant is every Argument, cutting and mauling the Adver⯑ſary, and driving him out of all his Entrench⯑ments? The moſt copious and ſolid, the moſt compact and nervous Preachers which this Nation ever had, were ſome of the Writers of theſe Lectures.

THERE is alſo this Advantage ariſing from Phyſical and Mathematical Knowledge, (beſides that of clearing up a Man's Thoughts, and giving him a juſt Taſte of right and wrong Reaſoning) it makes the Human Mind generally ſenſible of its own Worth and Excellence, and perceive that 'tis intimately ally'd to that of the Divinity; which muſt afford it a raviſhing Satisfaction. The very Reflection upon the Power and Nature of GOD, [98]makes a good Man emulous of imitating his divine Perfections; neither does he think that he is placed here as an idle Spectator, when he obſerves the Dependance of the Parts of each Syſtem of the Creation, and of the ſeveral Syſtems upon one another, and how they all contribute to proclaim the Wiſdom of that ALMIGHTY BEING that gave them Exiſtence.

How does ſuch a Genius as^* Dr HALES break forth from amidſt the Darkneſs that involves Hu⯑man Underſtanding! He appears like one of ano⯑ther Species. The Plan of this habitable Globe lies open to him, he ſeems not unacquainted with the general Laws that govern it; and while with the Tranſport of a Philoſopher, he beholds and admires the glorious Work, he is capable of paying at once a more devout and rational Ho⯑mage to his MAKER. His EXAMPLE, me⯑thinks, ſhould inſpire us with a generous Ambiti⯑on, ſhould engage us to endeavour to improve [99]our Faculties, and to exerciſe them conformable to the Rank we now hold among reaſonable Beings, and the Hope we have of being one Day advanced to a more exalted Station.

WE of this Profeſſion ought alſo to be qualify'd with a conſiderable Knowledge in the HOLY SCRIPTURES. Our BLESSED LORD gives it as a Command to all Men to ſearch the^† Scrip⯑tures. And St PAUL tells TIMOTHY,^§ that the Scriptures are only able to make him wiſe unto Salvation. We ſee how excellently learned all the Apoſtles were this Way, whilſt they ne⯑glected the Uſe of other Literature. Which is a⯑bundantly ſufficient to ſhew, that we of the Clergy ought to make the Study of the Scriptures our chiefeſt Concern. It is requiſite therefore for us to be competent Maſters of the PHRASEOLOGY of Scripture, to be able to expreſs divine Truths in Scripture-Terms, thereby to avoid the frequent Miſtakes which are incident to human Expreſſions, [100]and to raiſe the Affections and warm the Hearts of devout Chriſtians, which this Eloquence does in⯑finitely beyond all the little Arts of a prophane Rhetorick. We muſt ſtudy the Scriptures to be able to alledge appoſite Examples from thence of the Truths we are enforcing, and to bring Proofs and Aſſertions of the ſame Truths out of the SA⯑CRED ORACLES, which, to good Men, are more undeniable than all the Demonſtrations of REASON. We muſt ſtudy the Scriptures to be able to underſtand ſome difficult Paſſages therein, which are apt to lie uneaſy upon our Minds till we have diſcovered the Senſe of them, which they that are unlearned and unſtable wreſt to their own Deſtruction, and which Perſons under our Care are often wont to aſk our Information in. We muſt alſo ſtudy them to be able to underſtand the Types and Prophecies of our BLESSED SAVIOUR, to ſee how thoſe, formerly unintelligible Ceremonies of the Law, are but expiatory Rites, and receive their full Completion in the great Sacrifice of the SON of GOD, how all the duſky Propheſies clear up and con-center in him, what a World of ſtrange fortui⯑tous [101]Events hit in and conſpire together, to make out the Predictions concerning HIM. 'Tis requi⯑ſite that we ſhould ſtudy the Scripture that we may be Maſters of its CHRONOLOGY, which alone of all other Hiſtory affords the firm Grounds to that Art; to be able to defend it againſt, or reconcile it with the Oppoſitions of prophane Authors: And, laſtly, that we may be able to ſolve thoſe ſeeming Contradictions which atheiſti⯑cal Men pick up in it to expoſe its Credit. And as an Aſſiſtance to do this the better, we muſt have a competent Skill in the GREEK and HEBREW LANGUAGES which theſe holy Books were wrote in, to conſider the Words and Conſtruction of the original Text, and what Variation the common Interpreters do make from it, to find the Uſe of thoſe and other ſynonimous Words in other Places, to conſider the particular Idioms, Metaphors, Tranſitions, &c. in theſe Languages; and by this Means oftentimes a very mean Knowledge in thoſe Tongues may give a good and true Interpretation of a Place which has been blunder'd upon by very great Criticks.

[102]WE ought likewiſe to have â compleat Know⯑ledge in CONTROVERSIAL DIVINITY. Be⯑ſides the Controverſies which we are to manage with ATHEISTS and INFIDELS, by reaſon of the woful Diviſions of Chriſtianity, which is crum⯑bled into ſo many Sects, 'tis the Duty of our Order to maintain the Truth againſt ſo many er⯑roneous Oppoſers. There are ſome of theſe that ſtrike at the very Fundamentals of Religion, and the main Articles of Faith, ſuch as are chiefly the SOCINIANS and PAPISTS; others that en⯑tertain very erroneous Opinions concerning the Diſcipline and Government of the Church, as the ANABAPTISTS, INDEPENDENTS, and PRES⯑BYTERIANS. Now 'tis requiſite we ſhould have an Inſight into all theſe Controverſies, to be able to anſwer all the Objections which ſuch Men bring againſt our Religion, to confute their Opinions with Arguments either brought from SCRIP⯑TURE, REASON, or ANTIQUITY, or all of them; to know what Cavils and Exceptions they raiſe againſt the Arguments of our Divines, and to prove upon them the Invalidity of ſuch Replies; [103]to ſhew what fallacious and jejune Interpretations they put upon Scripture, and what Diſtortions and Falſifications they uſe towards ancient Writers.— Thus we muſt be every way prepared for our De⯑fence, and have every Weapon ready to enter the Liſts with them; and then, when we are attack'd, we cannot be thrown into any Confuſion or Per⯑plexity by their Grimace and Tone, which I have always obſerv'd are mighty Helps to Dulneſs, and are frequently made Uſe of by dull Fellows of all Perſuaſions.

BUT tho' nothing can be ſo neceſſary as to have always ready thoſe Arms, which at the ſame Time can diſcover every controverſial Quirk, and defend us from thoſe who would entangle us in the Snares of their queſtionary Debates; yet when⯑ever we have Occaſion to ſpeak of GOD, or his ATTRIBUTES, we ought to be inwardly af⯑fected, and in our outward Expreſſions appear to be ſo, with the unmeaſurable Diſtance there is be⯑tween a moſt perfect and omnipotent CREATOR, and a mere impotent CREATURE. 'Tis not [104]without ſome Indignation as well as Aſtoniſhment, that I ſee ſome among us (who little conſidering what GOD is, and what they themſelves are) pre⯑ſume to talk of him and his Attributes as freely and unpremeditately, as if they were talking of a GEOMETRICAL FIGURE, or a MECHANICAL ENGINE. So that the leaſt preſumptuous Diſ⯑courſe of the Nature and Perfections of that un⯑parallel'd Being, as if they were Objects their In⯑tellects can graſp; and ſcruple not to dogmatiſe about thoſe abſtruſe Subjects as freely, as about other Things, that are confeſſedly within the Reach of human Reaſon, or perhaps are to be found among the more familiar Objects of Senſe.

HOW often do we hear Mr PUZZLE even from the Pulpit diſcourſe of GOD and his AT⯑TRIBUTES, as if he comprehended the Height, the Breadth and Depth of his Wiſdom, and knew the Extent of his Greatneſs and Power, and all his Perfections. With an Air of Confidence he tells us of ſuch and ſuch Things being conſiſtent or inconſiſtent with the Deity, how he is under [105]ſuch and ſuch a Neceſſity, as if he were of the Cabinet-Council of the KING of KINGS. If Mr PUZZLE is not too wiſe in his own Conceit to conſult his Bible, he will there ſee how vain and fooliſh and preſumptuous 'tis to be engaged in ſuch deep Reſearches. ‘The SECRET THINGS be⯑long unto the LORD; but thoſe Things which are revealed belong unto us, and to our Chil⯑dren for ever, that we may do all the Words of this Law," is the Reflection of MOSES. When I apply'd mine Heart to know Wis⯑dom, ſays the WISE MAN, and to ſee the Buſineſs done upon the Earth: Then I beheld all the Work of GOD, that a Man cannot find out the Work that is done under the SUN: Be⯑cauſe tho' a Man labour to ſeek it out, yet he ſhall not find it; yea further, tho' a wiſe Man think to know it, yet ſhall he not be able to find it.’

‘SEEK not out the Things, ſays the wiſe Son of SIRACK, that are too hard for thee, neither ſearch the Things that are above thy Strength. [106]But what is commanded thee think thereupon with Reverence; for it is not needful for thee, to ſee with thine EYES the Things that are in ſecret. Be not curious in unneceſſary Matters: for more Things are ſhewn unto thee than Men underſtand. For many are deveiv'd by their own vain Opinion, and an evil Suſpicion hath overthrown their Judgment. Canſt thou, ſays JOB, by ſearching find out GOD? Canſt thou find out the Almighty to Perfection? It is as high as HEAVEN, what canſt thou do? deeper than HELL, what canſt thou know?’

THE fallen ANGELS are deſcrib'd by MIL⯑TON, in his PARADISE LOST, as touch'd with a Curioſity, like Mr PUZZLE'S, of diſcovering the Meaſures of the DIVINE OECONOMY, amidſt the Horror and Melancholy they were in, and un⯑able to find out either the Antecedents or the Con⯑ſequents, the Beginning or the End of it.

HOWEVER Mr PUZZLE may pleaſe himſelf with an Opinion of his own Wiſdom, he cannot, with all his boaſted Reaſon, account for the Ways of NATURE, even for the meaneſt of her Produc⯑tions. Can he tell me why the VIOLET is array⯑ed in Purple; why the SUN-FLOWER glows wiih Yellow, and the LILLY appears in White? Can he ſo much as form a Conjecture, by what ſurprizing Chymiſtry Nature, from the ſame Soil, extracts the delicious, but different Juices of innu⯑merable ſorts of FRUITS? Can he even tell me how the APPLE and CHERRY become round; the PEAR and FIG oblong? How the WAL⯑NUT acquires a Shell that is broke with Difficulty, whilſt the MULBERRY growing near it, has a Skin ſo tender, that it ſcarce endures the Touch? Can he tell me why GRAPES hang in Cluſters; why ſome Fruits on aſpiring lofty Trees, ſome on Buſhes, and others on the Ground? If theſe [108]Things, which ſeem ſo trifling, are beyond the Reach of HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, how great muſt be Mr PUZZLE'S Folly, Aſſurance, and Preſumption, when he takes upon him to com⯑prehend the Ways and Diſpenſations of the Al⯑mighty, and inſolently dares pretend to know the Extent of his Wiſdom and Power, and his other glorious Perfections! This is more than an honeſt Heathen durſt do, who thought our Words ought to be few, and thoſe becoming the tardy Appre⯑henſions of Men, concerning the wiſe Diſpoſitions of Providence, and the Perfections of an omnipo⯑tent Creator.

WE ought to have, my Friend, a moderate In⯑ſight into CASUISTICAL POINTS. We that have undertaken the Paſtoral Charge have frequent⯑ly under our Care heedleſs Perſons, that will run unadviſedly into Sin which they do not know to [109]be ſuch, and ſcrupulous Perſons who forbear ma⯑ny good and innocent Actions for fear of offend⯑ing, or whoſe Conſciences trouble them when they have committed them. Therefore 'tis requiſite we ſhould, in ſome Meaſure, be converſant in CASU⯑ISTICAL DIVINITY, to be able to underſtand how Circumſtances create or improve the Pravity or Goodneſs of moral Actions; what are the exact Boundaries of Vice and Virtue; by what Manner Sins are aggravated or mitigated; how Obligations are made, confirm'd, or vacated; how far Oaths are obligatory, and in what Senſe impoſed and taken; how far 'tis lawful to comply with ſuperior Authority, and for the Sake of Peace and Union. Theſe Things we ought to be able readily to deter⯑mine, for the Sake of thoſe who may frequently be ſuppoſed to ſeek Advice from us.

WE muſt alſo have a competent Knowledge in ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY, and the Wri⯑tings of the FATHERS. WE, who are the DE⯑FENDERS of the FAITH, ought to know how it has been deliver'd down to us, what Oppoſition [110]has been made againſt it by SCEPTICKS, and how it has been defended by the ORTHODOX; what Afflictions have happened to the Church by perſecuting EMPERORS, and what Privileges it has gain'd by the pious and religious; what great and holy BISHOPS have graced their reſpective SEES by their LEARNING, WISDOM, and PIETY, and how many others have been the TORMENT of their DIOCESES, and the PEST of the CHURCH. WE muſt be converſant likewiſe in the divers COUNCILS of the ſeveral Ages, to ſee with what Alacrity thoſe HOLY FATHERS came from all Parts of the World to defend their Religion, and to give an Account of their traditionary Faith in their reſpective Diſtricts down from the apoſtolical Times; what a pious Zeal they ſhewed, and what learned Speeches they made againſt the heretical Innovations; what ex⯑cellent Explications of Faith they form'd, and what admirable Canons and Laws of the Church. WE muſt carefully ſtudy the Writings of the AN⯑CIENT FATHERS, eſpecially the APOLOGE⯑TICAL, POLEMICAL, and PRACTICAL, to [111]know what admirable Vindications of Chriſtianity they made againſt the malicious Imputationss of the PAGANS; how, by a wonderful Strength of Reaſon and Learning, they overturn'd the very Foundation of the ETHNICK THEOLOGY, made the Doctrine of the CROSS triumph over all the Glories of this World, and even bore down the HEATHENS by the Force of their own RHETORICK: to ſee the Hereſies of the VA⯑LINTINIANS, MANICHEES, ARIANS, and others, perfectly ſtruck thro' with the Pens of theſe admirable Writers; and, laſtly, to find in their PRACTICAL TRACTS ſuch a Force, and ſuch a Warmth, as is inimitable in theſe later Ages, that one may plainly have a Taſte of the very Souls of theſe good Men in their Writings.

LETTER VII.

WE of this Profeſſion muſt endea⯑vour to make ourſelves Maſters of a nervous, ſweet, and muſical STILE. For 'tis not enough that we are barely heard, but we muſt temper our Thoughts with the ſofteſt Harmony of Words, that we may convince the Reaſon, and move the Paſſions of our Hearers.^* Harmonious Compoſition has not only a natural [114]Tendency to pleaſe and to perſuade, but inſpires an Audience to a wonderful Degree with generous Ardour and Paſſion. Fine Notes in Muſick have a ſurprizing Effect on the Paſſions of Men. Do they not fill the Breaſt with an inſpir'd Warmth, and lift the Heart into heavenly Tranſport? The very Limbs receive Motion from the Notes, and the Hearer, tho' he has no Skill at all in Muſick, is ſenſible however, that all its Turns make a ſtrong Impreſſion on his Body and Mind. The Sounds of any muſical Inſtrument are in themſelves inſig⯑nificant, yet by the Changes of the Air, the Agree⯑ment of the Chords, and Symphony of the Parts, they give extraordinary Pleaſure, as we daily ex⯑perience, to the Minds of an Audience. Yet theſe are only ſpurious Images, and faint Imitations of the perſuaſive Voice of Man, and far from the genuine Effects and Operations of human Nature.

WHAT an Opinion therefore may we juſtly form of fine Compoſition, the Effect of that Har⯑mony which Nature has implanted in the Voice of Man? Does it not by an elegant Structure and [115]marſhalling of Sounds convey the Paſſions of the Speaker into the Breaſts of his Audience? Does it not ſeize their Attention, and by framing an Edi⯑fice of Words to ſuit the Sublimity of Thoughts, delight and tranſport, and raiſe thoſe Ideas of Dignity and Grandeur in others which it ſhares itſelf?

'TIS the Judgment of the^* ROMAN Orator, that to uſe one's ſelf much to reading and writing is the only Way in the World to arrive at a Per⯑fection and Grace of Stile. We muſt therefore carefully read the beſt Authors, and hear with the utmoſt Attention the moſt celebrated Preachers; and be as ſtudious of obſerving the Beauties of a charming Diſcourſe, as a FLORIST would the Colours of a fine AURICULA, or a Botaniſt the Form of a curious PLANT. All this, I confeſs, is very troubleſome, but give me the Genius that is thus exerciſed; this is the Soil that Eloquence will thrive and flouriſh in. As a TREE that is a good. [116]Bearer ſhoots out into Expreſſions of Kindneſs, and bends beneath its own precious Load to the Hand of the Gatherer, when the Ground about it is meliorated and enrich'd with Culture: So the Eloquence of a cultivated Genius will immediately break out into Swan-like Muſick, and flow from his Lips with ſuch delicious Sweetneſs, as to fill his Audience with Melody and Rapture.

HORACE, that great Judge of fine Writing, bids us place before our Eyes the great polite An⯑cients of ATHENS as Mirrors and Exemplars to form, to elevate, and enoble our Stile and Senti⯑ments by.

THIS, my Friend, muſt be our Ambition, this ſhould be the fix'd and laſting Scope of all our Labours; we muſt ſpare no Pains to educate our Stile and Thoughts to Grandeur, and im⯑pregnate them with the noble Language and ge⯑nerous [117]Ideas of others, that our own Compoſitions may receive a kind of beautiful Glow and Flavour from theirs.

NOR is an Imitation of the fineſt Pieces, or copying out thoſe bright Originals of ATHENS, or ROME, or our own, or neighbouring Nations, to be look'd upon as Plagiariſm, but as conſiſtent with the niceſt Honour. Was not^* CICERO the Imitator of ZENOPHON and PLATO? Was not^† HERODOTUS the conſtant Imitator of HO⯑MER? Did not^§ STESICHORUS and ARCHI⯑LOCHUS [118]imitate him more than HERODOTUS? And did not^‖ PLATO more than all of them, who from the copious HOMERICK Fountain has drawn a Thouſand Rivulets to cheriſh and improve his own Productions? HOMER had engroſs'd the Admiration of the learned World, and wore the Laurels without a Rival, the divine PLATO there⯑fore was inſpired with a noble Emulation to contend the Prize with him; and tho' he did not ſucceed in his own Way, yet he had noble Succeſs in ano⯑ther; [119]for the Stile of his Proſe has a poetical Sweetneſs, Majeſty and Elevation, and he is juſtly eſteem'd the HOMER of Philoſophers. The ROMAN Orator was ſo great an Admirer of him, that he ſaid, ‘If JUPITER convers'd with Men, he would talk in the Language of PLATO.’

A GREATER Prize than the Glory and Re⯑nown of the celebrated ANCIENTS and MO⯑DERS can never be contended for, where Vic⯑tory crowns with never-dying Applauſe, when even a Defeat in ſuch a Competition is attended with Honour and Advantage. PLATO, in all Probability, had never written ſo ſmoothly, de⯑licately, and poetically, and with the niceſt Deco⯑ration, had not his God-like Spirit carried him for⯑wards in the nobleſt Career to the Imitation of HOMER. Neither do I think that CICERO had ever been the Sovereign of Forenſian Pleading, or that his Eloquence had been ſo exquiſitely and beautifully finiſhed, had he not, like a youthful Champion, been ambitious of entering the Liſts with the GREEKS, and, by applying himſelf en⯑tirely [118] [...] [119] [...] [120]to the Imitation of thoſe excellent Models, united, in his Manner, the Force of DEMO⯑STHENES, the delicious Copiouſneſs of PLATO, the Sweetneſs of ISOCRATES, and the divine Simplicity of ZENOPHON. By this Means he ſo fertiliz'd his Genius, that his Eloquence ſeems to pour itſelf forth, not like the Streams of a little RIVULET, but the Rapidity of a FLOOD.

IF, DEAR SIR, Men of our Profeſſion were but inſpired with an Ambition and Thirſt of ex⯑celling one another in the Arts of fine Compoſi⯑tion, or emulous of imitating the Stile and Man⯑ner of the beſt Writers this Nation affords, their Reaſoning would be much cloſer, their Stile more harmonious, and agreeable to the Ear, and their Sentiments have more of the Spirit and Flavour of Divinity. 'Tis evident that ſome in their Sermons, rather than take Pains, make Uſe of ſordid and blemiſh'd Terms; others again curtail and mince their Periods; and a third fort ſhamefully ſpin them out into a vaſt Extent, whereby their Life and Spirit evaporate, and all their Strength is loſt [121]by being quite overſtretch'd. Numerous Inſtances might be produced, to prove this, out of modern Sermons, publiſhed by Men of no ſmall Note and very ſober Underſtandings.

THAT a judicious^* Choice of proper and magnificent Terms has wonderful Effects in win⯑ning upon and entertaining an Audience, cannot, I think, be denied. For 'tis from hence that the greateſt Writers derive, with indefatigable Care, the Grandeur, the Beauty, the Solemnity, the Weight, the Strength, and the Energy of their Expreſſions. This cloaths a Compoſition in the moſt beautiful Dreſs, makes it ſhine, like a PIC⯑TURE, in all the Gaiety of Colour; and, in a Word, it animates our Thoughts, and inſpires them with a kind of vocal Life. But tho' fine Words are indeed the peculiar Light in which our Thoughts muſt ſhine, yet they ſhould not every where ſwell and look big. For vulgar Terms are ſometimes much more ſignificant than the moſt ornamental [122]can poſſibly be. They are eaſily underſtood, be⯑cauſe borrowed from common Life; and what is moſt familiar to us, ſooneſt engages our Belief. Some Writers very frequently make Uſe of com⯑mon and vulgar Terms that have not the leaſt Air of Elegance to recommend them, yet by mu⯑ſically diſpoſing, and artfully connecting ſuch Terms, they cloath their Periods in a kind of Pomp and Exaltation, and dexterouſly conceal their intrinſick Lowneſs.

'TIS obſervable, that ſome of our modern Preachers are more happy in the Stile, than in the Sentiments of their Sermons. Their Language is very often noble and ſonorous, but the Senſe either very trifling, or elſe ſo obſcur'd by the ſounding Phraſes, hard Metaphors, and forced Expreſſions in which 'tis cloathed, that 'tis difficult to find it out. For my Part, I ſhould prefer a noble Sentiment, that is depreſs'd with homely Language, infinitely before a vulgar one, that is blown up with all the Sound and Pomp of Expreſſion. Sublime Thoughts, either by Means of a great Affinity they bear to [123]the Springs and Movements of our Souls, or by their own ſuperlative Luſtre, always out-ſhine the Artifices of Rhetorick, whoſe Appearance they cover with a Veil of ſuperior Beauties. For as the STARS are quite dimm'd and obſcur'd, when the SUN breaks out in all its blazing Rays, ſo pompous Phraſes, and towering lofty Expreſſions, are entirely overſhadowed by the ſuperior Splen⯑dor of noble Sentiments.

To the Formation of a Stile, our Reading and Imitation, if they be of the right ſort, muſt prin⯑cipally contribute. Whatever Sermons we hear, or however polite and agreeable their Characters may be who preach them, if the Authors we read or imitate are of another kind, we ſhall find our Pa⯑late ſtrangely turn'd their Way. We are unhap⯑pier in this reſpect, for being Scholars and Imi⯑tators, if our Studies and Patterns be ill choſen. Nor can I, for this Reaſon, think it proper to call a Man well-read, who reads and imitates many Authors; ſince he muſt of Neceſſity have more ill Models than good, and be more ſtuffed with [124]Bombaſt, ill Fancy, and wry Thought, than fill'd with ſolid Senſe, and juſt Imagination.

THO' to paſs a right Judgment upon Compo⯑ſitions is generally the Effect of a long Experi⯑ence, and the laſt Improvement of Study and Ob⯑ſervation, yet, ſince you requeſt it, I ſhall give you my Opinion concerning as many Authors in our Profeſſion, as I think it needful for you to read at preſent, and you may ſingle out which you pleaſe for your Imitation.

IF you would have your Underſtanding charm⯑ed, your Affections captivated, and your Paſſions directed and reſtrained by the Powers of Rheto⯑rick, you muſt read DR TILLOTSON. There is Gracefulneſs, there is Strength, there is Spirit, there is Dignity in all he ſays. Such a divine Power and Energy, I think, never diſplay'd itſelf in ſo eaſy and genteel a Flow, and Command of Sentiment and Expreſſion, as the Sermons of this excellent Prelate.

[125]DR SOUTH has brought in a Species of Elo⯑quence in his Sermons, that is almoſt peculiar to himſelf, and rarely to be met with among our Di⯑vines. He abounds with Turns of Wit, which are inexpreſſibly fine; and is prodigiouſly dextrous at Irony or Sneer. His Strokes of Raillery are vaſtly genteel, appoſite and proper. In Matters of Controverſy, with what Humour does he ri⯑dicule his Adverſaries, and with what Dexterity does he ſting in the Midſt of a Smile! How ſkil⯑ful at managing an Argument! Wit is not exclu⯑ded by the Importance of the Subject, nor its Weight leſſen'd by the Humour.

DR SCOT's Book of THE CHRISTIAN LIFE is admirably well written; wherein we meet with the ſimple Language of Truth, which, tho' unadorn'd and without Pomp, is pure and perſpi⯑cuous.

THERE are lively Strokes of Paſſion, and nu⯑merous Beauties in^* DR SHARP's Sermons, ſuch [124] [...] [125] [...] [126]as ſhew the inherent Greatneſs of his Soul. He ſtrikes with powerful Might at the Adverſaries of our Religion, is enflamed with a ſervent, and yet peace⯑able Vehemence and Ardour. His Stile particu⯑larly excells in Smoothneſs, and an eaſy and peace⯑able Flow of the Words, and yet it has ſuch an Elevation as to excite an extraordinary Emotion in thoſe eſpecially who are to be brought over by ſoft and gentle Inſinuation.

BISHOP PEARSON'S Book on the CREED is a compleat and delicate Performance; tho' he launches out into the Depths of Divinity, and ſoars to the ſublimeſt Eminence, yet he never drops, like many others, unfortunately down, but ſtill preſerves his own intrinſick Grandeur. His Arguments run rapidly along, immediately ſtrike the Imagination, inflame us with the Warmth and Fire of his own Genius, and carry all before them by the Weight and Solemnity of Thought and Expreſſion.

THERE is ſomething extraordinary, ſomething [127]more than humanly great in Dr ATTERBURY's Sermons. And for this Reaſon has the inimi⯑table and godlike Mr POPE, unmov'd by Par⯑tiality and unbiaſs'd by Envy, awarded the Law⯑rels to this great Author, which flouriſh ſtill green, and will flouriſh as long as the Name of POPE has an harmonious Sound to an ENGLISH Ear. To write in a Language that is graceful and proper, that is diſtinguiſh'd by certain maſterly Touches, and an artful Poliſh, that would have ſhone in the Days of ATTICK Elegance, is the peculiar Cha⯑racter of Dr ATTERBURY.

IN paſſing their Judgment of Dr CLARK'S Sermons, Men commonly muſter his Imperfec⯑tions, ſo that the Remembrance of his Faults ſticks indelibly in their Minds, and that of his Ex⯑cellencies is quickly worn out. For my Part, tho' I cannot by any Means be blind or partial to his Faults, I have always thought that his Sermons are very grand and beautiful Compoſitions: not like thoſe of a low and grov'ling Genius, who [128]never endangers himſelf by aiming at Grandeur, but ſtill goes on in the ſame uniform ſecure Track. The whole Univerſe is ſcarce ſufficient for the ex⯑tenſive Reach and piercing Speculation of Dr CLARK'S Underſtanding. His lofty Genius is frequently aſpiring to prodigious and amazing Heights, which expoſe him to ſudden Falls; and ſuch Falls ſometimes work the Good of Men. And beſides, in the Judgment of the beſt Cri⯑ticks, what is truly grand in the Midſt of ſome Faults, is preferable to that, which has nothing extraordinary in its beſt Parts, correct however throughout, and faultleſs.

FOR a ſmooth and polite Stile Mr SEED is very much admir'd. That Theology of the Schools which he found undower'd, as it were, unattended, and in a Diſhabille, he has enrich'd with all the Wealth, the Pride and Ornament of Language. He gives us ſome fine SIMILIES and ALLUSIONS, which, were they not too [129]much^* crowded, would be very taking and agreeable: like STARS, they would caſt a kind of Blaze about them; they would illuminate, and give a Luſtre to his Sermons.

THERE are very few Genius's that write more gracefully or copiouſly than^† Dr SECKER; and he has this peculiar Talent, that beſides an extra⯑ordinary Gravity, a Spirit of Benevolence and Chearfulneſs glows in his Compoſitions, which gives them a matchleſs Dignity, not only perſuades, but even throws an Audience into Tranſport.

I DO not know of an Author that meets with more general Applauſe than^§ Mr LAW. Per⯑ſons [130]of different Humours, Ages, Profeſſions, and Inclinations, all agree in the ſame joint Approba⯑tion of his Writings, which Union of Aſſent gives them an indiſputable Title to our Eſteem.

WHEN you have a competent Share of ac⯑quir'd as well as natural Taſte, my Friend, you may eaſily diſcover the Value of any Performance yourſelf from a bare Recital of it. For if it is in⯑trinſically good, the Mind is naturally elevated by it, and ſo ſenſibly affected with its lively Strokes, that it ſwells with Tranſport and an inward Pride, as if what had been only heard had been the Pro⯑duct of its own Invention. But if we find that it tranſports not the Soul, nor exalts our Thoughts, that it calls not up into our Minds Ideas more en⯑larged than what the mere Sound of the Words convey, but on attentive Examination its Dignity leſſens and declines, we may conclude, that what⯑ever pierces no deeper than the Ears, can never deſerve our Applauſe or Imitation.

THESE few Authors I have named to you, ac⯑cording [131]to their Time and Age, have provided us with the richeſt ORE. To their eternal Honour they have attempted to throw off the horrid Diſ⯑cord of antiquated Proſe, falſe Grandeur, Impo⯑tence and Puerility of Sentiments. They have happily broken the Ice for thoſe who are to follow them, and who treading in their Footſteps, may at Leiſure heighten and poliſh the ENGLISH Language, lead the Ear and Underſtanding to finer Pleaſure, and find out the true, perma⯑nent, harmonious Idiom, which alone can ſatisfy a juſt Judgment, and godlike Apprehenſion.

WHENEVER we are engaged in Compoſitions of the genteeler kind, ſuch as require Grandeur of Stile and exalted Sentiments, it will then be of excellent Uſe to raiſe in ourſelves ſuch Reflections as theſe.—How in this Caſe would Dr TILLOT⯑SON, or Dr SOUTH, have rais'd their Thoughts? —How would Dr SHARP, Dr PEARSON, or Dr ATTERBURY? For theſe celebrated Preach⯑ers, being propos'd by us for our Pattern and Imitation, will in ſome Degree lift up our Souls to [132]the Standard of their own Genius. It will be yet of greater Uſe if to the preceeding Reflections we add theſe.—What would Dr SECKER, or Mr LAW think of this Piece? Or what Judgment would they paſs upon it? How would they have expreſs'd themſelves? It is really a noble Enterprize to frame ſuch a Theatre and Tribunal to ſit on our own Compoſitions, and ſubmit them to a Scrutiny, in which ſuch eminent Writers muſt preſide as our Judges, and be at the ſame Time our Evidence. By this Method we muſt inevitably arrive at ſuch a Perfection of Stile, as to be able to give the ENGLISH Language its due MUSCLING, as the PAINTERS ſay of a good PIECE, its due Body and Proportion, and alſo the natural Orna⯑ments of Correctneſs, Simplicity, and Grace.— But of this more in my next Letter.

LETTER VIII.

TO give Majeſty, Sweetneſs, Politeneſs to a Diſcourſe, to make it ſtrike, to give it the finiſhing Touches of Eloquence, to work it up with as much of the Pathetick as is needful, we muſt have a moderate Skill in POE⯑TRY. A Man muſt be ſo much of a Poet at leaſt, as to be able to diverſify his Stile with the fineſt FLOWERS of Sentiment and Expreſſion. But they muſt not run thro' the whole of a Diſcourſe, but only ſuch particular Places as that they may [134]ſerve, like JEWELS and DISTINCTIONS in DRESS. For the finical Ornaments of a Diſ⯑courſe, and a continued Affectation of Excellence, gives Diſguſt; 'tis not only unpleaſant to the Ear, but alſo to the Intellectual Faculties. The ſame Obſervation holds as to our other Senſes; we are leſs pleas'd with thoſe FLOWERS and PLANTS that have too high a Perfume and Fragrance, than thoſe that have but a moderate Scent; and one would rather chuſe to ſmell at the ROSE, than the MUSK-CRANESBILL. Even in the hand⯑ling FRUIT there is a Degree of Softneſs and Smoothneſs. So a Sermon or Diſcourſe, if it has an undiverſify'd Height'ning and Embelliſhment of Stile, affords no laſting Pleaſure. Beſides, if it have all the Advantage of Poetical Colouring, it ought to have ſome Shade, that that which is illuminated may caſt a greater Luſtre.

IF we would embelliſh our Stile by the Sub⯑ſtance as it were, and Ground-colouring of Poe⯑tical Sublimity and Grandeur, we muſt apply our⯑ſelves diligently to the Study of the HOLY SCRIP⯑TURES. [135]It would be worth our while to digeſt them ſo in our Minds, as to have them almoſt by Heart. For we ſhould have both nobler Senti⯑ments and Expreſſions if we apply'd ſacred to prophane Eloquence.

THE Effect and Beauty of SACRED POE⯑TRY you will perceive, in ſome Meaſure, tho' im⯑perfectly, from the two following SPECIMENS. I have choſe the Pathetick Kind, and ſtudy'd to re⯑preſent the Amiableneſs of Virtue, by ſuch Foils and Contrarieties as DAVID, the Man after GOD'S own Heart, furniſhes us with, and which ſerve as Graces, if I may ſo ſpeak, in poetical Limning, and render this Muſick of the Paſſions more ſera⯑phick, powerful and enchanting. Had this been attempted by ſome abler Hand, you would have been led with Delight and Rapture, Anxiety and Concern, by Turns, thro' the Labyrinth of the Affections, and intereſted, whether you would or no, in the Paſſions of the ROYAL PENITENT: And in the EXHORTATION annexed, you would preſently have underſtood the Reality of [136]thoſe Charms in the SACRED WRITINGS, which by my weak Endeavours, perhaps, you will imagine not to be half ſo commanding, natural, and ſo powerful, or capable of pleaſing a judicious polite Ear, and Muſe-like Underſtanding.

[173] IN the ſacred Writings, my Friend, POETRY has a finiſh'd Excellence, and RHETORICK a majeſtick Flow. Where did Eloquence ever ride in more Glory and Splendour than in the Royal PSALMIST'S Deſcriptions of the Great⯑neſs and Power of the ALMIGHTY? With what Loftineſs and Sublimity of Diction doth he paint the marvellous Workings of DIVINE PROVIDENCE? Where do we read ſuch ſtrange Riſings and Fallings, now the Faintings and Languiſhings, now the Terrors and Aſtoniſh⯑ments of Deſpair, venting themſelves in ſuch high amazing Strains as in the 51ſt Pſalm? Mr^* DANIEL'S Paraphraſe of it is extremely beautiful; Part of which runs thus:— [174]

IN every Page of the Royal Pſalmiſt's Com⯑poſitions, there are ſuch pathetick and exalted Expreſſions of FEAR and LOVE, HOPE and TRUST, and DELIGHT in the Deity, that 'tis no Wonder if ſuch a genuine and ſub5lime Peni⯑tence was able to cover a MULTITUDE of SINS. In the CLOSET he ſeems to be ſomething more indeed than Man, his Prayers are offer'd with that Fervency of Zeal, that they are like the Incenſe of an ANGEL, or SAINT in Glory.

WHAT SONG of TRIUMPH was ever writ in higher or more exalted Strains than that of [179] ^* MOSES?—How does he accuſtom us to mount along with him to heroick Grandeur, when [180]he ſets the Works of Omnipotence in a magnifi⯑cent Light, and paints the Deity in all his Majeſty and Splendor, as in that Deſcription of the Creation of LIGHT, and the EARTHLY GLOBE, which has been already applauded by^† LONGINUS. ‘The ^‖ JEWISH LEGISLATOR, ſays he, having conceived a juſt Idea of the Power of GOD, has nobly expreſſed it in the Beginning of his Law. And GOD ſaid—What?—Let there [181]be Light, and there was Light. Let the Earth be, and the Earth was.’—Can there be more Beauty and Harmony in Numbers, than in the SONG of^* DEBORAH and BARUK.—Can any [182]thing communicate a more exquiſite Pleaſure to the Ear and the Underſtanding, than thoſe De⯑ſcriptions [183]of the DIVINE MAJESTY in^§ JOB? — Where do we find SORROW flowing in ſuch a [184]natural prevailing PATHOS, as in the Prophet JEREMY? One would think that every Letter was wrote with a TEAR, every WORD was the NOISE of a BREAKING HEART; and that the Author was one that never breath'd but in SIGHS, nor ſpoke but in a GROAN.

WHEN in turning over the ſacred Page, I read of SIMEON waiting for, and expecting DEATH, as weary LABOURERS do the EVENING SHADES, or the REWARD of their WORK; when I read St PAUL with humble Impatience expreſſing his devout Deſire of Death and Diſſolution; I muſt own, my Soul glows with Deſires to die the [185]DEATH of the RIGHTEOUS, to breathe itſelf forth not in a GROAN but an EJACULATION.

WHEN the ſame St PAUL appears before the CORINTHIANS, and diſcourſes to them on the RESURRECTION, and before his Judges, FESTUS and AGRIPPA, and harangues upon TEMPERANCE and the DAY of JUDGMENT, how full of Life and Spirit, how full of the Pathe⯑tick is his Diction? Are not his very JUDGES drawn, as it were by an ENGINE, into Compaſ⯑ſion and Gentleneſs, and made to ſhudder with FEAR and TREMBLING? By the Dignity of the Subject, and the Strength of his Arguments, AGRIPPA was rous'd and alarm'd, and almoſt perſuaded to turn CHRISTIAN. This great APOSTLE, even in the Opinion of^‖ LONGINUS, [186]eminently diſtinguiſh'd himſelf by his inimitable Quickneſs and Sublimity of Stile.

THE HOLY SCRIPTURE, with regard to the divine Original, and Principle of its Laws, and as to the Weight of Authority, and Extent of Utility, is preferable to all the Volumes in the World. In the SACRED PAGE we are taught, not by Diſputations endleſs and full of Quibbling, [187]but by the Authority and Command of the AL⯑MIGHTY, to hold faſt our Integrity, to ſubdue our Paſſions, to check all our Affections, to re⯑ſtrain our very THOUGHTS, our EYES, our HANDS, from all Manner of EVIL. The Vices, the Frauds of Mankind, are threatned to be puniſh⯑ed with Perdition, Ignominy, with Chains, with Stripes, with Baniſhment from the Preſence of the DEITY, and with ETERNAL DEATH: But we ſee that ſincere, that juſt and honeſt Endea⯑vours are to be crown'd with Honours and Re⯑wards, [188]GLORY and IMMORTALITY. The HOLY SCRIPTURE, in ſhort, is above all Pa⯑negyrick: 'Tis very truly and emphatically ſtiled by the APOSTLE, THE GIFT OF GOD, the Mother of all Eloquence. 'Tis not to be equall'd, either for the Flow and Copiouſneſs of the Ex⯑preſſion, or the Grandeur of the Subject, by the moſt eloquent of the Heathens. Every Sentence is lofty and ſublime, and caſts, as it were, a GLORY round it.

LETTER IX.

WE of this Profeſſion ought to have a becoming Smoothneſs of Deli⯑very, and a lively ſpirited Man⯑ner of Expreſſion. There are ſome Men ſo harſh, ſo clowniſh, ſo effeminate in their Tone of Voice, ſo ſtuttering, ſo drawling, and ſpiritleſs in their Expreſſion, ſo ungraceful, aukward, and ſlovenly in their Manner of ſpeaking, that they can never be heard diſcourſing even on the moſt important Subjects with Pleaſure.

[190]AND here we may perceive the Capital Miſtake of thoſe who are entruſted with the Education of Youth; they frequently adviſe Parents to breed up their Sons to the Church, without ever conſulting their Abilities or Inclinations. The forming of Youth was reckon'd a Matter of that Conſequence by the polite ATHENIANS, that the Education of their Children was under the Direction of particu⯑lar INSPECTORS and CENSORS, accountable to the STATE. And indeed it requires the great⯑eſt Delicacy and Strength of Mind to perform ſo difficult and arduous a Taſk as it ought. 'Tis exceedingly hard, in the Beginning eſpecially, to pry into the Souls of young Perſons, and diſcover the different Bent of Genius in each; not to ſay that the DAWN of Genius is often as flattering as the SERENITY of an APRIL MORNING, or the Bloom of a forward FLOWER, ſeen and admired one Moment, and loſt in the next.

A Maſter or Tutor ought above all Things to have a ſpecial Attention to the Caſt of Genius with which Nature has endow'd his Pulpils or [191]Scholars. For we perceive that in the ARTS, the ſame Schools, as it were, furniſh, and the ſame CRAFTSMEN and MECHANICKS form, Scholars in the ſeveral Arts, each unlike the one to the other, yet all of them excellent in their Kind; therefore the Tutor or Teacher ought to accom⯑modate his Manner to the ſeveral Capacities of Youth. He muſt try what becomes them beſt, what Lenghts they can go with regard to their Voice, their Strength, their Lungs; and if he finds they have any thing downright averſe in their Natures for the Attainments neceſſary in our Pro⯑feſſion, or any thing ſhocking in their Manner of ſpeaking, which the Refinements of Art and Study cannot remedy, he ſhould adviſe them to turn their Views to ſome other Way of Life, and not unmercifully beat and flog out of them, as is the Practice of but too many, the few Grains of Ge⯑nius Nature has given them. An ingenuous Mind will ſooner be wrought upon by mild Treat⯑ment, than by Violence and Rigour; which rather ſeem a Diſcharge of the Maſter's Spleen and Paſ⯑ſion, than intended for the Scholar's Advantage. [192]There is a certain Heſitancy and Baſhfulneſs in ſome Natures which muſt not be check'd, but puſh'd forward with as much Care and Diligence, as a ſkilful ARTIST in GARDENING would the Circulation of an EXOTICK PLANT in his GREEN-HOUSE, or a TREE in his ORCHARD that is a baſhful Bearer. SEVERITY ſhould never be made Uſe of till all gentler Me⯑thods have been tried, and found unſucceſsful; then indeed it may be practis'd as the ultimate Remedy, but then too with Diſcretion, ſo as to carry nothing of Revenge along with it, ſo as to be no greater than Neceſſity requires, and to con⯑tinue no longer than till it produces either Amend⯑ment, or diſcovers an utter Incapacity for Learn⯑ing.

I MUST own, the Maſter is not always to blame for recommending Youth that are a little thick⯑ſkull'd, have ſlender Parts, and ſlow Apprehen⯑ſions, to go into our Profeſſion; becauſe, I be⯑lieve, 'tis ſometimes the Parents' Fault, their take a particular Liking to it, and therefore de [...]e their [193]Sons may be of it. But in ſo great, ſo important, and weighty an Affair of Life, Parents ought to conſider the Capacities of their Children, more than their own Inclinations. Yet Maſters are ſo far to blame, as when they cannot keep their Tem⯑per, and bear the Tediouſneſs of learning thoſe with Patience who have none of the quickeſt Parts. They ought to wait the Iſſue of their Hopes, how⯑ever long it may be deferr'd. There are many excellent Tempers, ſays an ingenious Perſon, which are worthy to be nouriſhed and cultivated with all poſſible Diligence and Care, that were never deſign'd to be acquainted with ARISTOTLE, TULLY, or VIRGIL; and there are as many who have Capacities for underſtanding every Word thoſe great Perſons have writ; and yet were not born to have any Reliſh of their Writings. Such therefore (as I intimated before) ſhould be ſent to ſome Mechanick Way of Life, without reſpect to their Birth, if Nature deſign'd them for nothing higher, for 'tis no Guilt to be an honeſt plain TRADESMAN or MECHANICK. But before they go to what they have the moſt natural Pro⯑penſity [194]to, let them be allur'd to Habits of Virtue, and their Minds train'd to a Senſe of Honour and Religion, whilſt they are in the Simplicity of their native Innocence, full of Shame, and capable of any Impreſſion from that Grace of Soul; and let not the Sparks of Virtue be extinguiſh'd in them for Want of Patience, Care, and Culture; the moſt excellent Natures are ſoon depreciated and ſpoil'd by Negligence and Impatience, and Want of proper Application to exalt them into good Habits.

‘PLANTS and VEGETABLES are cultivated into the Production of finer Fruit than they would yield without that Care. NATURAL HISTORIANS tell us, that no Fruit grew originally among us, beſides HIPS and HAWS, ACORNS and PIG-NUTS, with other Deli⯑cacies of the like Nature; that our Climate of itſelf, and without Culture, can make no farther Advances towards a PLUMB than to a SLOE, and carries an APPLE to no greater Perfection than a CRAB; that our MELONS, our PEACHES, [195]our FIGS, our APRICOCKS, and CHERRIES, are Strangers among us, imported in different Ages, and naturaliz'd in our ENGLISH GAR⯑DENS by Culture; and that they would all de⯑generate and fall away into the Traſh of our own Country, if they were wholly neglected by the PLANTER, and not cultivated, but left to the Mercy of our SUN and SOIL. Nei⯑ther, I think, can we hope to model a ten⯑der conſcious Spirit into Acts of Virtue, with⯑out the ſame Method as is uſed to improve the VEGETABLE WORLD, to cut TIMBER, or give new Shape to a Piece of STONE or MARBLE.’

OUR modern forward SLIPS of Quality put forth nothing but BLOSSOMS, and continue a kind of overgrown Children all their Lifetime. The Reaſon is, YOUNG MASTER is not ſuffer'd by the FOND MAMMA to be too much plagued with going to SCHOOL, for fear of breaking his Spirits, making him bookiſh, and ſo fit for nothing but to make a PARSON.—How do theſe Sparks [196]behave themſelves in the Prime of Life? In RE⯑LIGION, they are generally FREE-THINKERS (in the worſt Senſe of the Word) from the want of an early pious Education; in POLITICKS, they are Slaves to the Party whoſe Principles they were brought up in; in MORALS, they are looſe; and above all other Evils, deteſt SOLITUDE and MATRIMONY: the firſt, becauſe it would make them converſe with themſelves; and the latter, be⯑cauſe it might lead them into the Company of a Perſon, towards whom they know not how to be⯑have, viz. that of A MODEST WOMAN.

As to a PUBLICK or PRIVATE EDUCATION, 'tis not yet determined, I think, which is moſt eli⯑gible; ſometimes the one, and ſometimes the other is preferr'd, according to the Fancy of People of fine Taſte. As in ancient PERSIA the Youth of Quality was put to a polite MEDE for Education, ſo the Child of Diſtinction about ********* is happy in having his ************** for his publick or private Tutor. As young Maſter is only deſign'd for a fine Gentleman, it [197]would give an unhappy Biaſs to his Infant-Mind, to make a good found PROTESTANT, an orthodox CHRISTIAN, or a loyal SUBJECT of him; the Child, to be ſure, is too young to imbibe the Prin⯑ciples of Diſobedience to his GOD, or his PRINCE, from the Policies and Maxims of a ******** Teacher; there is no Need to make LOYALTY of either Kind habitual to it, or to take Care that DISLOYALTY do not become ſo in its Stead.

BUT if you were to demand my Opinion con⯑cerning a publick or private Education, which ought to have the Preference, I ſhould tell you, that the Youth who is like a weak BARK, which in boiſterous SEAS and WINDS carries too much SALL, and too little Ballaſt, whoſe JUDGMENT is weak and unſteady, and whoſe PASSIONS are light and violent as HURRICANES, ought un⯑queſtionably to have a private Education; but ſe⯑dater Tempers a publick one. It ought no more to derogate from the Excellency of the latter, be⯑cauſe of the Miſcarriages of ſome unhappy Na⯑tures, than ſome few SHIPWRECKS ought to [198]diſcredit NAVIGATION, or the failing of ſome few TRADERS diſparage ART and INDUS⯑TRY; 'tis enough that the experienced and ſkilful, the careful and diligent, do generally ſail ſucceſs⯑fully. What valuable Treaſures have been deriv'd to Poſterity from thoſe famous Schools of PY⯑THAGORAS, SOCRATES, ZENO, PLATO, ARISTOTLE, inſtituted at ATHENS; and thoſe of POLYBIUS, CARNEADES, DIOGE⯑NES, CRITOLAUS, and others, ſet up at ROME; by whoſe noble Precepts and Inſtructions were formed the learned and eminent Heroes of Anti⯑quity, that have done Honour to Human Nature, and left ſuch Tracts of Glory behind them, as diſtinguiſh the Years in which they acted their Parts from the ordinary Courſe of Time?

BUT to reſume. As there is a Manner of ſpeaking in which nothing ſhocks an Audience, nothing can diſguſt, nothing can diſpleaſe it; a Manner in which there is nothing that is uncouth, harſh, or untunable, nothing that is aukward, ruſ⯑tick, or ſlovenly, nothing that is drowſy, dry, [199]and ſpiritleſs; we muſt follow that, and endeavour to ſpeak quickly, ſmoothly, and gently. For an Audience of all Things cannot endure to hear a SERMON drawlingly preached, or the Divine Ser⯑vice negligently ſlubber'd over, read in a lifeleſs, cool, diſpaſſionate Manner, or yet ſpoke with puf⯑fing and ſwelling. Such is the Effect of a feeling Manner of ſpeaking, that it becomes, as it were, the PICTURE of our own Minds, and conciliates the Eſteem and Attention of our Hearers. The COMMON PRAYER eſpecially makes a deeper Impreſſion upon them, when they perceive in us a proper Fervour and Emotion of Soul. For as no MATTER is ſo combuſtible as to kindle with⯑out the Application of Fire; ſo no one's Mind is ſo ſuſceptible of the Power of DEVOTION, as to catch its Blaze, unleſs we, when we read Pray⯑ers, appear to be ſo affected, as to be all of a Flame ourſelves. In ſhort, a becoming PATHOS and Energy of Diction animates an Audience with uncommon Life and Spirit, and gives mere Words the Force, as it were, of Inſpiration.

[203]WE of this Profeſſion, my Friend, ought to keep clear of the INDECENCIES of AFFEC⯑TATION in Preaching. For Affectation fills the Mouths of Men with Bombaſt and Fuſtian, and gives them ſuch Sentiments as proceed rather from a lofty Swelling and Tumor, than a true Greatneſs of Mind, and ſuch an ungraceful Action, Dreſs, and Delivery, as makes them perfectly ridiculous. GERYO has furniſhed himſelf with a well comb'd Toupee, and an immutable Countenance, has got a Jauntee Air, oppoſes his Front to the Ladies, ſtares ſedately between every Sentence, nor will he give over this his ſurprizing Rhetorick, till he has ſtar'd every one of his fair Audience out of Countenance.

DIABLINTES has got it into his Head that the WHITE GLOVE is a great Help to a po⯑lite Preacher, if uſed with Skill and Judgment. The diſplaying a fine Glove as white as Lilly, when the Hand waves gently along with a ſoft ſmooth Period, adds an irreſiſtable Force, ſays, DIABLINTES, to whatever you deliver, gives [204]it the Stamp of Sublime, and makes it appear with an inimitable Grace and Elegance. Inſtead of puſhing your Adverſary Home in a Contro⯑verſial Sermon, continues he, with MODE and FIGURE, MAJOR and MINOR, there is no more neceſſary, but to make an Extenſion of that Hand on which you wear your Preaching Glove, and you'll infallibly be adjudged Victor, by your Auditors.

SANDROCOTUS holds the thumping the CUSHION as a powerful Auxiliary in the Pulpit. The thumping it every now and then, may ſup⯑ply a Pauſe, ſays he, expreſs JOY, ANGER, or ſeveral other Paſſions, according to the Action or Manner you uſe in thumping it. A late celebra⯑ted Preacher, adds he, who generally had the good Fortune to pleaſe, on any Emergency in the Pulpit had immediate Recourſe to the EXPRES⯑SIVE THUMP, and ſeldom without Succeſs.

CYZICENUS thinks he charms both the great and ſmall Vulgar with the Aſſiſtance of a beauti⯑ful [205]WHITE HANDKERCHIEF. Whenever he is like to be at a Loſs, he never makes a HUM or HA, but whips from under his Gown his DE⯑CLAMATORY HANDKERCHIEF in ſo pretty, genteel, and elegant a Manner, that it immedi⯑ately cauſes a Redundancy of Wit, he tells you, Fluency of Words, Propriety of Expreſſion, and Impetuoſity of Diction, &c.

WE ſee a thouſand Abſurdities committed, DEAR SIR, by theſe finical affected Coxcombs, which the very Vulgar, I am ſure, would be a⯑ſham'd of, and the moſt illiterate Hearer condemn. ‘But if any one be ſurpriz'd, ſays the ROMAN ORATOR, that theſe Things are diſcerned and mark'd by the moſt vulgar Audience, he need but only reflect how great and incredible the Force of Nature is in every Thing, eſpecially in this; for every Man has within him a cer⯑tain tacit Senſe, which enables him to diſtinguiſh what is right or wrong in Arts and Sciences, and this without Inſtruction and Information. If this Obſervation holds good with regard to [206]Pictures, Statues, and other Works, in critici⯑zing which, they have leſs Aſſiſtance from Na⯑ture, 'tis much more evident in the Judgment they form upon Words, Harmony, and Deli⯑very, becauſe this is a Judgment implanted in the Senſes that are common to all Mankind: 'Tis a Faculty which Nature never meant that any rational Creature ſhould be abſolutely with⯑out.’

CICERO de Orat. Lib. 3.

THE common People are not ſuch ſtupid Clod Pates (tho' they want Politeneſs) but they can judge of the Refinement of thoſe Pleaſures which Nature has dictated. I have, I aſſure you, ſeen both Wit and Pleaſantry, and Diſcernment among them, and as perfect as is needful to their Cir⯑cumſtance.

A CERTAIN LORD taking a Walk with a Gentleman near a Country Village, ſaw a poor BOY dragging a CALF Home with both his Hands; ‘You ſhall ſee, ſays my LORD, laugh⯑ing, [207]I'll make the Boy leave his Calf;’ ſup⯑poſing the Boy would have pull'd off his HAT to him; but being diſappointed, ‘Sirrah, ſays he, don't you ſee me, and d'ye keep your Hat on?" "A'n't pleaſe your LORDSHIP to hold my Calf, (reply'd the Boy) I'll pull it off; but at preſent, you ſee, I have my Hands full.’

AN illiterate COUNTRY FARMER once took a Fancy to hear the LATIN DISPUTES of DOCTORS at an UNIVERSITY. He was aſk'd what Pleaſure he could take in viewing ſuch Com⯑batants, when he could never know ſo much as which of the Parties got the better. ‘For that Matter, (reply'd the FARMER) I a'n't ſuch a Fool neither, but I can ſee who's the firſt that puts the other in a Paſſion.’ Nature herſelf dictated this Leſſon to the Farmer; that he, who had the better of the Argument, would be eaſy and well-humour'd; but he, who was unable to ſupport his Cauſe by Reaſon, would naturally loſe his Temper, and grow violent.

[208]I HAVE ſeen low and uncultivated Minds ſur⯑prizingly affected on beholding thoſe noble Pieces of Painting, the celebrated CARTOONS of RAPHAEL, at HAMPTON COURT. To ſee the ſilent Eloquence, the earneſt enforcing Look, the devout Geſture of St PAUL preaching, is not a dumb Entertainment to the Eye of the Vulgar, but a ſpeaking Image to their Minds, that awa⯑kens every drowſy Sentiment in them, and hur⯑ries them by an amazing and imperceptible Vio⯑lence, thro' every Paſſion repreſented on the living CANVAS.

WHAT draws together the numerous Crowds of the ſmall and great VULGAR in LONDON, to hear^* HIS GRACE OF CANTERBURY, the BRITISH CICERO, harangue in the Pulpit, but the Rapture which his Language never fails to inſpire, and that Softneſs of Delivery, and mo⯑deſt Action, which engages the Attention, and charms every Faculty? There is indeed ſo much [209]Spirit, ſo much Force, ſo much Paſſion in his Eyes, his Features, and his Air, (nay, his very Hands have an artleſs Meaning in them) ſo power⯑ful is the Torrent of weighty, well-choſen Expreſ⯑ſions, ſo entire his Sentiments, ſo juſt, ſo new, with ſo unaffected, ſo manly a Glow, that there is not a Soul in his Audience can help being all in a Flame.

A MODEST Action and Delivery carry an ex⯑traordinary Prejudice in their Favour, an irreſiſt⯑able Force, by recommending the Goodneſs of a Man's Heart. The Man who diſcovers no Symptoms of being being abaſh'd at committing Indecencies, in CICERO's Opinion, deſerves not REPROOF only, but PUNISHMENT. So great a Veneration had the † ROMA SENATE for a^* [210]becoming Baſhfulneſs in ſpeaking, that they pardon'd the flagrant Miſdemeanours of King PHILIP, for the ſake of the modeſt Eloquence of his Son DEMETRIUS, who was thrown into Confuſion and Silence on barely hearing the long Catalogue of his Father's Crimes. The Man who excells in Preaching, is generally the more ſenſible of its Difficulty, he is under the greateſt Concern how to anſwer the Expectation of his Hearers. But the Man who can compaſs nothing worthy of his Profeſſion, worthy of the Name of a Preacher, or worthy the Attention of his Hearers, is ſeldom under any Concern, he has not the Grace either to bluſh at, or to avoid Indecencies. Some in⯑deed put on a demure Look, and counterfeit an [211]Air of Baſhfulneſs and Modeſty, but then it ſits upon them with ſo little Eaſe and Grace, that an Audience preſently detects the Cheat, and deteſts it. For there is as much Difference between a na⯑tural Shame, a real Emotion of Soul, and a coun⯑terfeit one, as there is between the LIGHT that glitters in a DIAMOND, and that which faintly imitates it in a PEBBLE.

THUS far, Dear Sir, of a Clergyman's LEARN⯑ING and Skill in DIVINITY and ELOQUENCE; — ‘That he may be a Workman that needeth not be aſhamed.’—To be an excellent Preach⯑er, I know, requires the Study and Practice of a Man's Life, a peculiar Genius, and a noble Stock of Nature; but all of us (ſince we are fre⯑quently requir'd to ſpeak in Publick) ſhould ar⯑rive at ſuch a Degree of Learning and Eloquence, as to ſpeak in proper and handſome Terms, to ex⯑preſs ourſelves with Clearneſs, and with ſo much Gracefulneſs, at leaſt, as our Matter may not ſuffer by our Language, nor our Language by our De⯑livery. [212]livery. But it will be highly uſeful, beſides this, to adorn our Diſcourſe with the more SELECT PHRASES, and refin'd Forms of Speech, which will make it reliſh better, eſpecially to the Au⯑ditors of the better Breeding; to illuſtrate it, when Occaſion requires, with eaſy and decent Meta⯑phors, not fordily mean, nor prodigiouſly vaſt; to be able to command the Uſe of natural and elegant SIMILITUDES, for ILLUSTRATION, and not for VARNISH; to know what Words to uſe to aggravate, and what to extenuate, with a Regard had always to Truth and Sobriety; to de⯑lineate a VIRTUE or a VICE, a GOOD or a BAD MAN in ſuch proper and natural Colours, as may raiſe the Eſteem or Averſion, the Love or Hatred of our Auditors to them at Pleaſure; if we can arrive to this, then we ſhall, in a true Senſe,— DOMINARI IN CONCIONIBUS—be LORDS over the Affections of our Hearers; which if we take Care to join with orthodox ſound Doctrine, and good Reaſoning, we ſhall then have the ſame Advantage for VIRTUE, which the DEVIL has [213]againſt it, that is, we ſhall have all the Warmth of of MENS' PASSIONS pleading for it.

I Shall now ſhew you, by way of POSTCRIPT, what is requir'd to make a CLERGYMAN an ORTHODOX TEACHER,— "right⯑ly dividing the WORD of TRUTH." — Now to do this, he muſt be lawfully called to the MI⯑NISTRY. He cannot divide the WORD rightly if he have a wrong Title to do it, if he do it upon his own Head, or upon inſufficient Authority. Now, I think, 'tis ſufficiently prov'd, even to the ſilencing GAINSAYER, that the only ordinary [216]lawful Call into the Miniſtry is by EPISCOPAL ORDINATION. For we find no Ordination in Scripture but what was made by the APOSTLES, and whom they had before ordain'd Biſhops, as is clear by the Example of PAUL, BARNABAS, and TITUS; and never any Ordination by PRESBYTERS was ever ſo much as dreamt of till of late Years, and that was only to ſerve a Turn at GENEVA. Therefore all that come rightly into the Clergy, muſt come this Way. 'Tis not the being of a pert confident Humour, or a popular noiſy Eloquence, that gives a Man a Commiſſion to divide the WORD of TRUTH, but this lawful Means which CHRIST has inſti⯑tuted; this is the only DOOR which our BLES⯑SED LORD has made to come into the CHURCH, and then he has made the Conſequence, that they who come in otherwiſe are THIEVES and ROB⯑BERS. Without a lawful ORDINATION a Man has no more Title to the PRIESTHOOD than he has to the CROWN, and the Crime of each Pre⯑ſumption is equally great, only the Laws are more fevere againſt the one than the other. But when [217]GOD took the Execution into his Hands, the Caſe was otherwiſe; for when KORAH, DATHAN, and ABIRAM, uſurp'd the Prieſthood, they found as dreadful a Puniſhment as ever any Trai⯑tor ſince.

LIVY in his^* Hiſtory tells us, that the Fa⯑mily of the POTITII, who had the Privilege of performing the Prieſtly Office at the Altar of HERCULES, called the ARA MAXIMA, ha⯑ving by the Advice of APPIUS the Cenſor, in⯑ſtructed ſome publick Servants in the ſolemn Rites of their Function with a Deſign to commit the Ex⯑erciſe of their Office to them as their Delegates, an amazing Effect enſued, and one, ſays the Hi⯑ſtorian, that may juſtly deter from making any Alteration in Religion, for tho' there were at that Time twelve Families of the POTITII, and thirty Perſons above the Age of fourteen Years, they all dy'd within the Space of one Year thereafter, and the whole Race became extinct. Nor is it only [218]obſerv'd, continues he, that the Name of the POTITII periſh'd upon this Occaſion, but alſo that APPIUS the Cenſor, ſome Years after, by the laſting Reſentment of HEAVEN, entirely loſt the Sight of his Eyes.

HE muſt be no SCHISMATICK. If a Man comes into the Church ever ſo regularly, yet if he ſchiſmatically makes a Separation from it, he is no orthodox Teacher, he does not righty divide the Word of Truth, becauſe he takes wrong Meaſures to do it; he has [...]o Commiſſion to be a Teacher out of the Church, his Orders do not qualify him to ſet up Altar againſt Altar, but he acts as hei⯑nouſly as if he preach'd the Goſpel without any Orders at all. Our BLESSED SAVIOUR in the whole Tenour of his Doctrine preaches up Peace and Unity; in his dying Speech to his Diſciples, he ſays, ‘Peace I leave with you, my Peace I give unto you.’ The APOSTLE does, with all the pathetical Endearments imaginable, engage us to UNITY, ‘If there be any CONSOLATION in CHRIST, ſays he, if there be any COMFORT [219]in LOVE, &c. fulfill ye my Joy, that ye be all like-minded.’

NOBLE was that ANSWER of a certain PRE⯑LATE, and worthy of a Chriſtian Biſhop, to a PRIME MINISTER'S Letter, containing a Re⯑proof for holding ſome orthodox Opinions which the Miniſter did not like.—A BISHOP, whoſe ‘Conſcience cannot reproach him, who likes the Place of his Reſidence, and has no Ambition to live within the Sun-ſhine of a Court, need fear nothing of what your LORDSHIP can write to him. As a NOBLEMAN, I pay you Reſpect; as a MINISTER of State, I have nothing to do with you; as a CHRISTIAN, I am ac⯑countable to GOD alone. 'Tis before his TRI⯑BUNAL I hope to render myſelf acceptable, where we muſt both of us appear ſhortly: And it behoves you, my LORD, to take heed, leſt you ſhould not find there the ſame Favour as in the COURTS of MEN.’

HE muſt not be an HERETICK, one that [220]holds an erroneous FAITH concerning the funda⯑mental Parts of Religion, concerning the DIVI⯑NITY, the INCARNATION, SATISFACTION of our LORD; concerning the DEITY of the HOLY GHOST, and the Neceſſity of his GRACE; ſuch an one is ſo far from being a right Divider of the Truth, that he teaches a falſe Religion, and another Goſpel; ſuch an one ought not to con⯑tinue a Member of CHRIST'S Flock, much leſs a Teacher and Paſtor of it.

HE muſt not be an obſtinate Defender of any falſe or erroneous Doctrine of leſſer Moment. For let the Doctrine be of ever ſo ſmall Moment, 'tis ſtill an Oppoſition againſt the Truth, 'tis a con⯑fronting of GOD's WORD, and an innovating in the Doctrine of the CATHOLICK CHURCH. Beſides, 'tis very dangerous to have a Teacher of ſuch erroneous Opinions; becauſe 'tis very natural for the People to imbibe them from him, and they may be tempted in Time, for the Eſteem they have for their Paſtor, to make a formal Schiſm.

[221]FOR a MINISTER to be an ORTHODOX TEACHER, he muſt not teach uncertain Truths. The APOSTLE bids us exhort with ſound Doc⯑trine, not to build with HAY and STUBBLE; and he himſelf came with DEMONSTRATION, as well as POWER; and the other Apoſtles taught what they had heard and ſeen; which ought to be well conſider'd by thoſe Divines, who value them⯑ſelves upon their new-fangled NOSTRUMS in DIVINITY, and fine-ſpun Inventions in this Science. For Divinity is a Thing which is recom⯑mended moſt by Antiquity. Our FAITH was but once delivered to the SAINTS, and ſo leaves no Room for the Wits of later Ages. But if Men muſt be ſhewing their Parts, and giving the World a Caſt of their rare Inventions, they have a large Scope for it elſewhere, but, by all Means, they ought to ſpare DIVINITY.

HE ought to ground his Doctrine upon SCRIP⯑TURE, and the EXPLICATION of the CA⯑THOLICK CHURCH. TO teach Doctrines with⯑out the Confirmation of Scripture, is to teach the [222]Doctrines of Men; and to explain Scripture other⯑wiſe than the Church of GOD has done in all Ages, is always Preſumption, and frequently Hereſy, All Doctrines, and Explications of Faith eſpe⯑cially, were ſuperabundantly ſifted by ancient Councils and Writers, when they were Matter of Debate for ſo many Ages; and therefore we ought to ſtick to their Notions and Expreſſions of theſe facred Truths, who are ſuppos'd to underſtand them better than any ſingle modern Divine, who has only convers'd with his own Thoughts. Now to remedy this, we ought to ſtudy DIVI⯑NITY firſt out of the HOLY SCRIPTURE, and next out of the FATHERS, who, let ſome Men ſay what they will, were Men of very good Senſe, and talk very intelligibly: and tho' the SOCI⯑NIANS and REMONSTRANTS may have more of Method, Cloſeneſs, and Subtilty, they have that which makes Alloy for all this, a great deal more of HERESY.

AND now, (my Friend!) I can perceive 'tis Time to put an End to this Epiſtolary Correſpon⯑dence. [223]I have taken the Liberty, you ſee, to laugh upon ſome Occaſions; and if I have either laugh'd wrong, or been impertinently ſerious, I can be content to be laugh'd at in my Turn; for my Humour does not very much incline me to melan⯑cholly Reflections. I have very freely, and with⯑out the leaſt Reſerve, given you my Sentiments concerning the neceſſary Qualifications of a Mini⯑ſter of the Goſpel, as he is a CHRISTIAN, a PASTOR, and a CATHOLICK; and I pray GOD, if you go into HOLY ORDERS, you may do your Duty in all theſe Reſpects. But a Good Life ought to be the Principal of your Aim, for a wicked Life is the worſt of HERESIES, and a Miniſter may do more Miſchief to Religion by one ill Action, than Good by a Hundred fine Sermons. Nay, we undo all we preach by an ill Practice, for Men have Reaſon to think that That Doctrine ſhould not have any Influence upon their Lives, which they ſee has none upon our own. To me, indeed, it ſeems ſurprizing, that an im⯑moral Clergyman can have the Conſidence to ap⯑pear or preach in Publick; for all his Declamati⯑ons [224]againſt Vice, are but ſo many Libels againſt himſelf, and every Time he gets up into the Pul⯑pit, he is but doing a PUBLICK PENANCE to the whole Congregation. Let me intreat you therefore ſteadily to adhere to the Practice of Vir⯑tue; dare to oppoſe yourſelf to the licentious Cuſtoms of a degenerate Age, wherever you go; and by a good Example, endeavour to ſtem the Torrent of Vice. Don't bluſh to own your Obli⯑gations daily and hourly to that great Being, who fills the Univerſe with the wondrous Exertions of his Wiſdom and Power; give him your higheſt Eſteem, your higheſt Reverence, and ſupreme Regard. Let your Devotion to him ſpring from Love and Gratitude, and never mention his Name without a reſpectful and humble Awe; regard his Favour as the higheſt Bleſſing; and endeavour to imitate and follow the bright Example, which the BLESSED AUTHOR of our Religion has ſet before us. Believe me, my DEAR FRIEND; there is no Compariſon between a wicked and a good Life: A good Life, ſtor'd with every moral and religious [225]Virtue, reſembles HEAVEN, methinks, its CAN⯑NOPY ſtuck with STARS and CONSTELLATI⯑ONS. A Clergyman who is conſcious of having done his Duty, enjoys a moſt refin'd and rational Delight; but he who wants the Secret Witneſs of an approving Conſcience, is never ſeen to have that ſerene Compoſure, and Self-complacency, which becomes a Miniſter of CHRIST.

In a Word; let your Countenance be open, and your Boſom cloſe; let your Beneficence be attended with a Familiarity ſo circumſcrib'd as to impreſs Love and Reſpect; and let all your Acti⯑ons appear conſiſtent with the Dignity of your Profeſſion, that you may be upon Earth a true Image of the Deity, by giving all Mankind cer⯑tain and impartial Marks of your Probity and pa⯑ternal Love for the People under your Care, whoſe Hearts if you gain, you poſſeſs the moſt precious of all Treaſures: A Treaſure which that brave ROMAN^* L. CAECILIUS METELLUS, look⯑ed [226]upon as ſacred, and obliged even the High Prieſt of MARS, A POSTHUMIUS ALVINUS, to Reſidence, and would by no Means diſpenſe with his Abſence from the Charge committed to him.

As a frequent Conſideration of the Nature of our HIGH OFFICE will be a continual Encou⯑ragement for us to do our Duty, I ſhall conclude all with an excellent Obſervation of St CHRY⯑SOSTOM to this Purpoſe; ‘THEREFORE has the LORD choſen us to be the LIGHTS of the World, and the LEAVEN of the [227]LUMP, to be MASTERS and TEACHERS of other Chriſtians; to be, as it were, AN⯑GELS aſſociating with Men on Earth, as MEN converſing with Children, as thoſe of a ſpiritual Nature with the groſs, animal and carnal; ſo that by our Converſation they might reap an extraordinary Advantage.’

A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR.
[] A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR, ON THE DEATH OF HIS CORRESPONDENT.
[]A LETTER, &c.

I DURST not intrude on your private Sor⯑rows too ſoon; we water not FLOWERS whilſt they are ſcorching with the Heat of the NOONTIDE SUN; and 'tis as fit the PASSIONS of the MIND ſhould have Leiſure to cool and re⯑mit ere they be dealt with. By this Time your Eye may be clear'd of the Brine and Miſt that hung upon it; and ſince you have been pleas'd to [234]regard my Friendſhip on other Occaſions, let it have Leave to drop ſome Balm upon this Wound. 'Tis an Advantage to the careful SURGEO, that his PATIENT has a good Heart; and this gives me Hope and Confidence that the manly Fortitude of your own Breaſt will help to finiſh the Cure I go about. I know, Sir, what a ROMAN EM⯑PEROR ſaid to the TROJAN AMBASSADOR that came ſomewhat too late to mourn with him for his Son's Death,— ‘And I, ſays TIBERIUS, con⯑dole with you for the Loſs of your renown'd Countryman HECTOR.’—But your known and confirm'd Goodneſs will not permit an Office of Humanity to be thus ſcorn'd; if it keep not Time, it may teſtify Reſpect. Our cheering Ad⯑dreſſes to mourning Friends, ſays a GREEK POET, are wont to be as welcome as Calms to a toſſed Mariner. Even the Son of GOD himſelf, when his Trial and Agony fell upon him, was glad of a ſtrengthening Angel.

TEARS are as juſt a Debt to the Death of our Friends, as their Death is to Nature. JUPI⯑TER, [235]in HOMER, bemoans the Death of his SARPEDON; and APOLLO mourns the Loſs of his HYACINTHUS. DAVID weeps for ABNER, whom JOAB ſlew, as he took him aſide to ſpeak with him quietly. ‘^* And DAVID ſaid to JOAB, and to all the People that were with him, Rend your Cloaths, and gird you with Sackcloth, and mourn before ABNER. And King DAVID himſelf followed the Bier.—And they buried ABNER in HEBRON: and the King lift up his Voice, and wept at the Grave of ABNER; and all the People wept.—And the King lamented over ABNER, and ſaid, Died ABNER as a FOOL dieth?—Thy Hands were not bound, nor thy Feet put into Fetters: as a Man falleth before wicked Men, ſo felleſt thou. And all the People wept again over him.’—When JONATHAN, the Beauty of ISRAEL, was ſlain, DAVID'S Sorrow was alſo inexpreſſible. ‘^† I am diſtreſſed for thee, (ſays he) my Brother JONATHAN: very pleaſant [236]has thou been unto me: thy Love to me was wonderful, paſſing the Love of WOMEN.’

Lo the brave DITHRAMBUS weeps for his dying Friend^§ ARISTANDER.

[237]THE beauteous^‖ ARIANA could mourn the Lot of Nature doom'd to Care and Pain. And the great LEONIDAS did not forbid his Eyes to ſtream before his Grief-diſtracted Family.

THE faithful Woman here mentioned is the Royal Partner of his Bed, whoſe Heart o'erflow'd with the fondeſt Paſſion, and was plung'd in Sorrows.

'TIS the Part of a Man to melt in ſuch Caſes, of a Brute not to be mov'd at all, of a Chriſtian to be moderate in his Regret. Methinks, SIR, the Experience you have had of the World, and hu⯑man Chances, ſhould ſteel you enough againſt the like Strokes. How many Funeral-Matches had your Eyes ſeen, ere Death knock'd at your Friend's Door? But he might (you will ſay) have liv'd longer. True! ſo he might have dy'd ſooner. What Reaſon have we to think that too haſtily taken away, which was payable as ſoon as we receiv'd it? If his Mortality diſpleas'd you, you ſhould have mourn'd when it began, not when it ends. Why do we grieve for a Wound which no Grief can relieve or remedy? Why bear we not that in another which we muſt come to ourſelves? 'Tis for none but our MAKER to be eternal. Lie we not all under an unchangeable [240]Law, under an eternal Ordinance, to be born and die?

THE SNOW and ICE of WINTER may lie crowded together a While, and hold out for a Month or two, but the SPRING will be ſure to melt it all: Should we chance to paſs over our Youth and Virility ſafe, yet OLD AGE will con⯑ſume us at laſt.

WE come into this World as CHILDREN are ſent to SCHOOL, not to live there alway, but to learn ſomewhat, and then be gone. We ſcramble up from lower to higher Forms, from our Childhood to an Age of Conſtancy and Gra⯑vity; but we muſt be gone when we have learn'd enough to fit and prepare us for Heaven; and the ſooner we grow fit, the ſooner we are taken away. Virtue protects not the Body, but glorifies the Soul. As Flowers of the faireſt Hue, and Glaſſes of the fineſt Mould, wither and break ſoon⯑eſt: So we commonly ſee them that excell in Virtue to be ſhorteſt liv'd, when the ungodly and diſſolute [241]are in no Peril of Death, but are fat and frolick⯑ſome, luſty and ſtrong. When the MOWER or REAPER cometh, Weeds and Flowers, Corn and Cockle, high and low Spires, ripe and unripe Ears, are cut down alike: So deals the SICKLE of DEATH with us, of what Age, of what Rank ſoever, it makes bold to pare us away. The GREAT LORDS of the Earth, after all their painted Glory, and ſtern ruffling, are brought down to the Ghaſtlineſs and Duſt of Death: Nay, mighty States and Kingdoms expire, thoſe awful Monarchies that ſpread ſo far, are ſhrunk to nothing: Heaven and Earth look for a Day of Diſſolution.

WHEN all are rated for POLL-MONEY, what Pride, what Partiality, nay, what Folly were it to grumble, and ſeek Exemption? Death is a Tri⯑bute which all pay; why then ſhould we grieve and whine when we are called upon for it? Why ſhould we think to ſlip the COLLAR alone? The only Salve for a Neceſſity is a willing Compliance with it. What ſhould we do but give up a [242]Game of our own Accord which is ſo ſure to be loſt?

AND as it avails not to quarrel with a Law of Neceſſity, ſo it becomes us not to to quarrel with the Will of GOD. ‘We muſt, ſays a RABBIN, be as bold as LEOPARDS, as ſwift as EAGLES, as nimble as HARTS, and as valiant as LYONS, to do the Will of our Father which is in Hea⯑ven.’ And is it not HE that kills and maketh alive, that brings us down to the Grave, and that raiſes us up? Shall Sun, and Moon, and Stars, and Elements ſubmit to that high CREATOR, and ſhall Man alone, who owes him moſt Service, ſpurn at his Decrees? As that CENTURION in Sacred Writ could ſay of his Domeſticks, ‘If he call'd a Servant, he came preſently, if he ſent him forth, he went;’ ſo ſhould we behave our⯑ſelves to our heavenly Maſter. If he keeps us here below in our Pilgrimage, we muſt be con⯑tent to trudge ſtill; if he calls us away to himſelf, we muſt be ready to go. What fearful Judgments were pronounced on ELI and all his Houſe, yet [243]he puts them up with this mild Acknowledgment, ‘It is the LORD, let him do what ſeemeth him good; what ſhould a Servant do but fulfill his Lord's Pleaſure?’ Nay, 'tis not only a Lord, but a FATHER that determineth of us. Even Children are many Times handled more ſeverely of their loving Parents than they would be; 'tis for their Good, tho' they diſcern it not. The Courſe which our heavenly Father takes with us is no leſs beneficial, however it may gripe and ſtartle our ſenſual Part. Had a STONE or a STAFF hit us, we would look angrily about, and prepare to revenge ourſelves on the Aſſaulter; but ſhould we find the Blow given us by a Friend, or by a great Man we depended upon, and that it was rather given in Love and Familiarity, than Spleen or Grudge, we would be calm immediately, and excuſe our Choler, and count it a Courteſy, not a Wrong: So when temporal Croſſes annoy us, the Death of our dear Aſſociates, the Loſs of our Goods, the Blemiſhes of our good Name, in all this would we call to Mind that 'tis but a Friend's Blow, but the fatherly Stroke of a merciful GOD, [244]how ſoon would it reſtrain us from repining, how ſoon bring us into the PSALMIST'S Tune,— ‘O GOD, thy Rod and thy Staff are ſo far from bruiſing and vexing mine Heart, that they bring me Comfort; 'tis a Sign of thy Favour and Familiarity that I am thus touch'd!’

THE Savage INDIANS that were demanded by our late Diſcoverers what they mean't in wor⯑ſhipping the SUN, had this Reaſon at Hand,— "Becauſe it brought DEATH upon them." They thought it a Device and Ordinance that could ſuit with none but the Power and Goodneſs of a Deity.

YOU, Sir, are depriv'd of one that was deſer⯑vedly dear to you, but let GOD be dearer, whoſe high Pleaſure it was to take him from this World to himſelf. What hath HE taken but what HE once gave you? Why ſhould HE not receive for ever what HE lent you but for a Time? Ah, how fond are we of our own Vexation! Like ulcerous Limbs, how do we ſhrink at every Touch! Many Comforts cannot erect us ſo much as one [245]Grief is able to caſt us down. We are greedy of that which we want, and as unthankful for that which we have. Something is gone we once had, and we afflict ourſelves for it when there were more Reaſon it ſhould quiet than heighten our Grief that we once had it. For that we had it was a Benefit for which we are owing to GOD, and it would beſt become us to think of paying our Debt to our bountiful LORD. Lo! he aſketh nothing but our PATIENCE, but our PEACE; Peace with our⯑ſelves, and Peace with HIM. There is more left us than we have loſt, and why will we loſe what⯑ſoever we have, becauſe we have not a Thing that we have loſt? For that which we have left is wil⯑fully loſt while we take no Joy in it. What In⯑jury do we to our own Happineſs if we place it in Things which we want? Never ſhall we want Matter of Dejection if we go to Work thus. Every MISER'S Coffer, and every MERCHANT'S Ship, every full Table, and every well-furniſh'd Houſe we come ſhort of, will bring us in a plen⯑tiful Harveſt of Perplexity. But I beſeech you, SIR, to turn your Eyes rather on that which GOD [246]hath done for you, to bethink yourſelf how many Comforts are left you to ſeaſon this particular Loſs. How can you think him dead who in the bright Echo of his Reputation is ſtill remaining with you. LAELIUS could cheer himſelf that his SCIPIO was to him alive ſtill,—alive in his glo⯑rious Virtues, alive in his renowned Name! 'Twas not the INNOCENT'S Death DAVID bemoan'd, but the REBEL'S. When SOCRATES ſaw his WIFE ſtorming that ſuch a good Man ſhould die unjuſtly, what, ſays he, Would'ſt thou rather have me die a Malefactor?

IF, SIR, you find your Heart bleed with ſuch a Meditation,—"Ah, what a Friend hath GOD "taken from me!" Let a ſweeter one heal it again, — "What a Friend had I given me!" Whenever you look upon the Greatneſs of your Loſs, it muſt bring to your Mind the Greatneſs of your Debt, and GOD'S great Kindneſs in beſtow⯑ing ſuch a Friend upon you. How unthankful is he, who ſo remembereth the Loſs of a Benefit, that he forgets the Receit. Shall we receive Good at [247]GOD'S Hand, and not Evil too? Were it not far better we ſhould ſubmit ourſelves to the Will of GOD, than the Will of GOD ſhould be ſquar'd to ours? Do we fondly preſume that we know what is better for us, or wiſh ourſelves better than GOD doth? How oft have we delighted in hurtful and perilous Things? How oft have our vain Long⯑ings brought Miſchief upon us? On the other Side, what gracious Tokens of his Good-will hath GOD ſhewn us? When HE took our Fleſh and liv'd among us, and died for us, was not his Good-will towards Men proclaim'd aloud? And is not his Will the ſame in laying the Croſs on us, as in bearing it for us? Had HE not the ſame tender Love and gracious Aim in both of doing us good? If we reckon it for our Good that GOD would ſuffer ſo much for us, we may believe it for our Good too, that HE would have ourſelves ſuffer a little. All HIS Attributes are vaſt and infinite, HIS Power, Wiſdom, and Love; nor is He thus alone in HIMSELF, but this to us; HE loves us better than we love ourſelves, — infinitely better! And HE ſeeks our Good more, and is more able [248]and ſkilful to effect it,—infinitely more! What therefore comes in our Heads when we bemoan our Miſhaps? Do we think GOD deceiv'd, or ſpiteful? Do we think HIS Arm ſhorten'd that HE cannot prevent an Evil? Far be ſuch Thoughts from a Chriſtian's Heart. It comes not from any Weakneſs, Malice, or Imprudence in HIM that we are vex'd thus, but from HIS infinite Power, Wiſdom, and Goodneſs; and who are we that, like the old GIANTS, we ſhould fight with Heaven, and attempt to pull GOD from his Throne, and wring his Sceptre out of his Hand?— Oh, let us give HIM Leave who made us for his Glory, to rule us at his Will! To that Glory HE will aſſuredly bring us, if we be guided by his Will and Counſel in the Way to it. A Paſſenger at SEA takes not upon him to ſteer and order the SHIP that wafts him, but leaves that to the Pilot and Maſter, and in a Storm obeys his Direction moſt, and ſtirs not a Foot againſt his Will, but caſts out the deareſt Things that he has at his Bid⯑ding. What think you, (my Friend!) hath GOD leſs Skill to govern the WORLD, than the SHIP⯑MAN [249]his Bark? That which we would do for a Man who is to land us on Earth, ſhall we not do for a GOD who would bring us to Heaven? Our Croſſes are ſent us either by an angry GOD or a favouring one; if they are ſent in Favour, why do we ſpurn at a Benefit? If in Diſpleaſure, what ſhould we do but appeaſe it with an humble Sub⯑miſſion? GOD'S Anger will be the ſooner ap⯑peas'd, if we can meet his chaſt'ning Hand not only with Silence and Sufferance, but even with Conſent, and Joy, and Thankſgiving. The old GERMANS well underſtood this, who taught their Children, when their Fingers were cut or ſcorch'd, to cry, "GOD be thanked." What heard we from our diſtreſſed LORD in the Garden of GETH⯑SEMANI? "Not my Will, O Father, but thine "be done!" And ſhould not this affect us as much as the rueful Spectacle did that HEBREW Hoſt, which were beſieging the MOABITES? They no ſooner ſaw the King's Son offer'd up for a Sa⯑crifice, but they departed, amaz'd and vex'd. When the Son of GOD himſelf becometh a Burnt⯑offering, and ſacrificeth his Will to the Will of [250]his Father, ſhall it not work as fierce an Indigna⯑tion within us againſt our own Stubbornneſs? We ſolace ourſelves in all our Extremities to ſee other Men ſuffering with us; and ſhould we not think it a more abundant Comfort to ſee our bleſſed LORD a Sharer with us in Sorrow and Sufferance? Shall we leave HIM to climb up to his CROSS alone, and ſhall we ſuffer nothing at all with him, but run away from the very Shadow of a threaten⯑ing Affliction, of a ſeeming Diſtreſs?

WHY, SIR, ſhould we grieve immoderately to ſee our Friends going from hence, who have the ANGELS to convey their Souls, and to gather up their Bodies at the laſt Day; nay, CHRIST himſelf bearing them Company in all their Way? Why went he down to the Grave with us, but to ſave us from the Danger and Horror of it? If 'tis an unpleaſant Thing to follow the SON of GOD, yet in any caſe let us not fly from him. If we dare not imitate, how dare we reſiſt him? When we might be like him, why do we thus abhor his Reſemblance? Oh, wretched Ingratitude! GOD [251]ſtampeth upon us the Image of his beloved Son; and we that will not be like CHRIST in Sufference, become like LUCIFER in Pride; nay, methinks, we become worſe, for LUCIFER thought not himſelf better than his GOD. And we, as if we were faultleſs, refuſe the Stripes which our innocent JESUS bore.

HOWEVER we find ourſelves ſtated, indeed, it becomes us to bear our Croſſes contentedly. For if we ſee a deep Stain of Guilt within us, wer't not an high Inſolence to be loth to ſuffer juſtly when CHRIST had thoſe bitter Storms of Sorrow upon him who never did amiſs? On the other Side, if we find no Indictments in our own Hearts, nothing to implead or accuſe us, we are the more encouraged to be like him, who was crucify'd, without a Cauſe. If our own Guilt brought not our Affliction upon us, let not Impatience bring any Guilt on our Affliction?

SHOULD we have met our SAVIOUR, as that CIRENIAN did, fainting under his CROSS, and [252]deſiring us to carry it a while for him, nay, ſhould he have laid that precious Burthen upon our Shoulders with his own Hands, would we churliſhly have put it from us, would we have pleaded Excuſe or Impatience, would we not have carried it away in Joy and Triumph, and have thought ourſelves happy to have been cru⯑cify'd on the ſame Tree with the SON of GOD? Lo! this very Honour we may come to, without going to Mount CALVARY for it. GOD puts our Strength to a Trial, with his own Hand im⯑poſeth this or that particular Croſs on us, a Croſs far lighter than that our LORD bore; why do we refuſe and abhor it?

THE SON of GOD was wounded and pierced for me by the bloody Hands of ungodly Ruffians; why ſhould not I ſuffer a gracious GOD to touch me, why ſhould I not be ſtruck by ſo good and gentle a Hand?

WHEN the Diſciples were toſſed at SEA, and felt a new Tempeſt within themſelves, to ſee a [253]Man walking on the liquid Waves, on Word from their MASTER'S Mouth quells them all,— "Be of good Comfort, it is I!" — It is I have called this Storm upon you, it is I can appeaſe it; it is I have taken away the Serenity of the Hea⯑vens, it is I can reſtore it again.—If HE makes us ſore, ſays JOB, he can bind us up; if he wounds us, his Hands can make us whole. Let us there⯑fore wait on him for a SALVE from whom our SORES come.

'TIS true, SIR, you have loſt an excellent Friend. — But what, is the Almighty Hand of your heavenly Father any whit ſhorten'd? Hath HE lock'd up all his Care of you in this URN? No! caſt your Care upon him, for he careth for you. You never ſaw the Righteous forſaken; of Men oft enough, but never, never of GOD.

BUT you are not, I hope, ſo fix'd on the Me⯑ditation of your own Loſs, but you remember alſo, that to him, to die, was Gain. Yes, it was inexpreſſible Felicity to be taken away from a [254]World in which we are immerg'd in Labour and Sorrow. For what is the Life we doat on but a Stage of Folly, but a Sea of Mifery, which how ſmoothly ſoever we ſail over, yet many a Rock, many a Gulph will croſs our Way, many a Storm will toſs us, and many a Rover fright us, ere we unlade our Bottom in the wiſh'd-for Haven? That very Period of Life which we long for, which we are ſo glad to arrive at, our OLD AGE, what is it elſe but a loathſome Priſon? Even now, when we are neareſt to Death, our buried Griefs and Maladies begin to revive; as RIVERS run in a broader Stream, when they are ending their Courſe.

BUT if we look into the Myſteries of our tender Age, we ſhall find, that our young Infants at their Birth begin to weep, in their Sleep ſeem to laugh. He that deplored the Entrance of his Life with Tears, conſecrates the Image of Death with Smiles; as if he foreſaw the Anxieties of the one, and the Sweetneſs of the other.

[255]WISELY therefore did GOD and Nature ap⯑point that Souls, as yet rude and ignorant, ſhould be infus'd into our Bodies, and kept ſenſeleſs in the clos'd Womb, for fear of loathing ſo harſh a Pri⯑ſon; which ORPHEUS thought was nothing elſe but a Puniſhment laid upon us, like that the old Tyrants uſed when they tied the Dead and Living together; for thus, ſays he, the pure and immortal Soul is ſerv'd, when ſhe is yoked with a rotten, corruptible, and crazy Body. And what divorced Soul, that carries her Intellect with her, would glad⯑ly return this foul Way again, to lie pent in a dark and polluted Womb, to be depriv'd ſo many Months of the Light of Heaven, ſo many Years of the Uſe of Reaſon, to run through ſo many ſordid Neceſſities of Nature, ſo many Mockeries of Fortune, to take up again the Madneſs of Infancy, the Terrors of Childhood, the Dangers of Youth, the Cares of Virility, and the Griefs of old Age? I cannot believe any Man hath liv'd ſo happy, as to wiſh his whole Life again repeated.

NONE, I dare ſay, would deſire to recover Life [256]but ſuch as deſerv'd it not, but ſuch as had abus'd it.—Had Death, methinks, no Comforts attend⯑ing upon it, the very Troubles of Life might be enough to render it ſweet, as WEARINESS gives a Reliſh to REST.

IT made ARTABANUS laugh to ſee XERXES ſo fooliſhly weeping, when from a ſteep Hill he took a View of his numerous Army; he fell into ſuch paſſionate Moans, that ſuch a Multitude, e⯑nough to turn the World upſide down, muſt be gone from it ſo ſoon; it griev'd him that they, whom himſelf was precipitating into a preſent Danger of Death, and ſacrificing ſtreight up to the Madneſs of his Ambition, ſhould be all dead within an hundred Years. — O XERXES, there had been more Reaſon for thee to have bemoan'd ſo long a Stay in ſo croſs a World! Hadſt thou diſcern'd as clearly from that high Mount their human Anxieties, as thou didſt their human Bo⯑dies, the Advantages of Death would rather have dry'd thy Tears, than the Suddenneſs drawn them out.

[257]'TWERE as eaſy, methinks, to find a moiling Collier with a white and unſully'd Face, as a mor⯑tal Man not ſtain'd with ſome Tincture of Grief. Pick out the braveſt Darlings of Fortune, take one of thoſe that had the very Sirname of HAP⯑PY and GREAT, take a SYLLA or an ALEX⯑ANDER, or a JULIUS CAESAR, even they that commanded all had their Lives perplex'd, and their Deaths violent. Look on AUGUSTUS, whoſe publick Reign ſeem'd a perpetual Calm, found he not many deep Vexations at Home, the want of natural Iſſue, the Miſcarriage of adopted? What Joy could he take among the Treacheries of Some, the Libels of others; to ſee his neareſt Kinſwoman lewd and looſe, his only Succeſſor hateful and unworthy? What farther Inſtance need I ſeek? You ſee, Dear Sir, even in this Loſs, that which was one of your greateſt Joys, become an Occaſion of your juſt Heavineſs.

SUPPOSE now a Man deep in Debt, for which he was bound to pay yearly a grievous and un⯑reaſonable Uſe, how glad would he be to get out [258]of his Creditor's Lurch, to ſee the main Debt clear'd and the Bond cancell'd! For the Principal being pay'd, the biting Intereſt ceaſes. And is not this the common Condition of the Sons of Men? We have our Bodies from Earth, our Souls immedi⯑ately from GOD; both theſe are lent us, but we pay a hard Intereſt in the mean Time. The bo⯑dily Pangs that preſs us, Hunger and Thirſt, Cold and Heat, Sickneſs and Labour, and all the Variety of corporal Diſtreſſes, what are all theſe but Intereſt-Money to be daily paid till the Prin⯑cipal be reſtor'd, till the Body return to the Earth from whence it came? On the other Side, the Fears and Cares, and Sorrows, and all the trouble⯑ſome Paſſions of the Soul, muſt be paid too for the Uſe of it, till the Spirit returns to GOD that gave it. How do we wrong ourſelves if we come not gladly out of ſuch chargeable Debts? When SOCRATES had drunk his laſt Hemlock, he bad them prepare a Sacrifice for AESCULAPIUS, for the Medicinal GOD; he took his Death as a Re⯑medy that would cure all his Griefs.

[259]INFAMY is one of thoſe Evils that ſticks clo⯑ſeſt unto us, and yet in Death it begins to loſe its Sting. Who talketh now in a virulent Manner of an O—d? We ſpeak not of the Dead but with a Kind of Reverence. Even they, who, while they liv'd could get nothing but Grudge and En⯑vy, once dead, are prais'd, extoll'd, and wiſh'd for again.

IN the Judgment of the WISE MAN, ‘the Day of our Death is better than the Day of our Birth.’ Better without Queſtion, to the virtu⯑ous good Man, who hath all his Tears and Troubles wiped away; and better in ſome Meaſure, for the vicious too; for tho' it ends not his Miſery, yet it puts an End to his Miſdoings. And is it not a Kindneſs to wreſt a Poniard from one that would do nothing but ſtab himſelf, to deny Money to a gaming BORROWER that would do nothing but caſt it way? 'Tis no leſs Courteſy to take away Life from him that abuſes it. We reckon that good which brings us Profit; and is not Death beneficial? we meet not the King with ſuch aw'd [260]and compos'd Thoughts, as we do a dead CORSE. The very Sight of another's Funeral doth us good, it cauſing the Remembrance or Reflection of our own; and therefore the CATAJAN PRIESTS call the People to publick Prayers with a Trum⯑pet made of the Bones of the Dead, and deck their Bodies with Beads and Jewels of the ſame Stuff, and drink commonly out of a Skull.

BUT if from our private Condition we turn our Eyes to the publick Face of the Times we are caſt upon, have we not Cauſe to count the Dead happy? 'Tis one of our greateſt Comforts in publick Calamities to ſee our Friends and dear Aſſociates freed from them, and ſhelter'd in ſome ſafe Retreat. Were we got into ſome hideous Deſart, and environed there with roaring and ve⯑nomous Beaſts; on one Side a fierce Tyger ready to fly upon us, on the other Lyons or Bears with bent and erected Paws gaping for us; here a Cluſter of Serpents ſpitting their Fire and Venom, there a Troop of Savages brandiſhing their Clubs, or preparing their Arrows to lay us dead; what [261]would we give to be gone from ſuch ill Neigh⯑bours? Why, are we not here in a woeful a Plight? Within, outrageous Paſſions encompaſs us about, and tear our Hearts with reſtleſs Deſires; abroad Misfortune and Miſery, and the proud Man's Contumely wound us daily. Religion, pure and undefiled Religion, as practiſed in the primitive Ages of the Church, is it not grown a very Jeſt, and become the Scorn of Idiots? Nay, do wiſe Heads ſhew a better Example? Do they accuſtom themſelves to entertain their Friends and Acquaintance with Diſcourſe about another World? Do they mingle the Praiſes of GOD with the Feaſts and Joys of Life? Do they retire to their Country Dwellings, to contemplate the Variety and Riches of Divine Wiſdom and Bounty in thoſe natural Scenes of Pleaſure which the Country affords, and do they now and then invite their Companions to join with them in offering Hallelujahs to GOD on this Account? No; ſacred Themes are not now the Buſineſs of Converſation, nor are common Friendſhips any way uſeful or ſerviceable to the great End of Life. Riot and Luxury, or [262]ſordid Profit and Intereſt, or elſe Folly, Trifling and Impertinence, are the Ties, the Bonds of mo⯑dern Confederacies, the Ligaments of Chriſtian, nay, of Proteſtant Societies. The Oracles of God, or Things ſerious, are ſuch unfaſhionable Topicks of Diſcourſe, ſuch unuſual, nay I may add, unwelcome Subjects of Entertainment every where, that the Company deſerves now to be praiſed, which is only barren and unprofitable, not hurtful, and wherein we ſuffer no greater Loſs than that of our Time.

‘I WISH, ſays Dr LUCAS, in his excellent Eſſay upon Happineſs, that whatever Men talk of a Treaſure in another World, they do not now and then think it wiſeſt to have their Por⯑tion in this. How many are there, who making a Profeſſion of living by Faith, and looking for the bleſſed Hope and Appearance of CHRIST, do yet live as if all the Buſineſs of Life were to get and enjoy as much of this World as they can; who profeſſing themſelves the Diſciples of the Son of GOD, whoſe Heart [263]was lowly, his Fortune mean, and his Ap⯑pearance humble, do yet lay out their Time, their Labour, their Wealth on this one Deſign, to make ſuch a Shew, ſuch a Figure in the World, as may render them the Gaze, the Envy of the Neighbourhood they live in.— Such a tender Concern for, ſuch an eager Pur⯑ſuit after temporal Things, cannot flow from, nay, nor conſiſt with Purity of Heart, and Po⯑verty of Spirit, the Love of GOD, and a De⯑ſire of Heaven.’

WHAT an excellent Thing muſt we think that to be which frees us from ſuch a degenerate World, which even rectifies the crooked Partialities of For⯑tune, and makes us as good as thoſe that trode upon us? We are not therefore to reckon it as an Injury of Fortune, but as a Degree of Grace and Favour unto us, that our Courſe is finiſh'd a little ſooner than we were aware of. For 'tis as if a TRAVELLER in a rainy wintry Day ſhould get ſafe and well to his Journey's End or his Inn ere [264]Sun-ſet, which others cannot attain till the dark Night hath overtaken them.

IN a cold ſevere WINTER we think long till it be paſs'd over, till the warm SPRING and SUM⯑MER arrive; and why ſhould not we be as glad to have the Hardſhips of this Life exchang'd for the Joys of a better?

WERE a Man neceſſarily to croſs a deep and dangerous RIVER, what Madneſs were it in him to grieve or complain that he had met with a BRIDGE or a BOAT to waft him over? They are, methinks, as fooliſh who quarrel with Death; for what is it elſe but a Bridge or Boat to waft us to the oppoſite Shore, o'er a Flood we muſt needs paſs, from a brittle and frail Life to a glo⯑rious and immortal one.

WE are not to judge of Death by that which it carries us from, but by that which it brings us to. To get a Kingdom or poorer Territory we venture our Lives; and what is a Spot of Earth to the [265]Kingdom of Heaven? What can we reckon Death but our gainfulleſt Hour, that adds ſo much to our Felicity as it takes from our Life. The ſooner we die, the longer we are happy.

SEE you not how the poor KINE, that are turn'd out in Winter, will be clinging to the STABLE or BARN-DOOR where they know there is better Food. The World ſtarves and pines us, and why run we from Death's Door, where Fulneſs of Joy lies ready for us? Why mourn we hopeleſsly for a mouldering Body, which is in ſo ſure a Hope of a Reſurrection?

WE ſee that thoſe Men, who are any thing ſkill'd in the Nature and Motion of heavenly Bo⯑dies, are not amaz'd or troubled at the yearly ECLIPSES of the SUN and MOON, becauſe they know all theſe obſcur'd Planets will quickly re⯑cover their Light, and ſhine out as clearly as ever they did. And we, why ſhould we ſhrink or ſhudder to ſee the Eyes of our Friends clos'd up in Darkneſs, who know theſe ſullen Eclipſes are to laſt but a While, that, after a little Interpoſition [266]of Duſt, theſe hid and obſcure Bodies ſhall ſhine out as the STARS in Heaven.

WHEN that huge PERSIAN Army we read of in Story was ſetting forward to invade GREECE, MILTIADES, the ATHENIAN General, cal⯑ling his thin Troops together, preſented them with a Cock-ſight, imagining that would put Courage into them; and the Device took as he wiſh'd, for they (ſeeing ſuch an invincible Stoutneſs and eager Combat in a Couple of Birds, that they would never yield till both lay dead on the Ground) ſnatch'd up their Weapons, and march'd on de⯑ſpiſing Danger and Death. WE CHRISTIANS have not Birds and Beaſts, but reaſonable Men to give us an Example of Fortitude in bearing the Loſs of our Friends,—our Relatives,—our other ſelves. We ſee DAVID wiping his Eyes when his Child was dead; we ſee JOB breathing out the Praiſes of GOD when a violent Wind had blown all his Sons and Daughters away; we ſee that brave DAME in the Book of MACCABEES hearing the Cries of her murder'd Sons with as much Delight as a muſical Song. Nay, PAGANISM is able to [267]ſhew us a TIBERIUS, a PAULUS, a MARTIUS, a CATO, a GALLIENUS at ROME, a PERICLES, a XENOPHON, an ANAXAGORAS in other Places, ſo manfully bearing the Death of their domeſtick Friends and Children, that they have gone preſently about their Buſineſs, ſat in the Senate-Houſe, and kept their Garlands upon their Heads, and told the World they knew they were mortal Men they had begotten. And we that know more, ſhall we bear leſs? Will not theſe Heathens be eternal Monuments of our Shame if we lie groveling in Sorrow, and raiſe not up our dejected Hearts?

THE ſweet and long Acquaintance you had, Dear Sir, with him whoſe Loſs you lament, the upright and innocent Courſe of his Life, as it gives you the more Hope of his preſent Happineſs, ſo it gives you the leſs Reaſon to bewail his Diſſolu⯑tion. His Life was not a mere Calm, but a gentle Breeze; it did not conſiſt in mere Reſt and Quiet, but a delightful Motion. Even in his Retirement he could employ all the Vigour of his Mind uſe⯑fully [268]and delightfully; nay, that very Solitude which would have been the Priſon and [...] [...]aniſh⯑ment of the buſy Worldling, wa [...] [...]is [...]aradiſe. Moſt undoubtedly, if a righteous and unblemiſh'd Life, if a ſure Faith in his precious Redeemer, if the Fear of GOD, and a fruitful Uſe of his Ordi⯑nances, could bring him to Heaven, he is become an abiding Citizen of that NEW JERUSALEM. —O! if he had but Liberty to whiſper a few Words into your Ear, would he not thus expoſtu⯑late? ‘My dear Friend! What do you bewail? My Departure from you? Why, look where I am, in whoſe ſoft Boſom I lie, how glorious, how ſecure I am become! Is it your own Miſ⯑hap that afflicts you? It will be but for a Mo⯑ment, I am but gone before, and you ſhortly will follow me, and all thoſe I left with you.’ —Numbers of our Friends, ſaith St CYPRIAN expect us above; let us therefore, Dear Sir, g [...]ſp and long for an happy Meeting, that we may be join'd in Glory with thoſe, with whom we are join'd in Affection.