Chapter I: FIRST, then, the sinner is much disposed to withhold his attention (2)

When PLEASURE first spreads its share for the young voluptuary, how little did he suspect the malignity of its nature; and that under so enchanting an appearance, it was preparing for him pains and diseases, declining health, an early old-age, perhaps poverty, infamy, and irreparable ruin? Yet some, or all of these calamities may oppress him, when the pleasure is renounced, and the sin forsaken.

Youth and health are with difficulty made to comprehend how frail a machine the human body is, and how easily impaired by excesses. But effects will follow their causes; and intemperate pleasure is sure to be succeeded by long pains, for which there is no prevention, and for the most part, no remedy. Hence it is that life is shortened; and, while it lasts, is full of languor, disease, and suffering. If by living _fast_, as men call it, they only abridged the duration of their pleasures, their folly might seem tolerable. But the case is much worse: they treasure up to themselves actual sufferings, from disorders which have no cure, as well as no name. And not unfrequently it happens, according to the strong expression in the book of Job, that _a man’s bones are full of the sin of his youth, till they lie down with him in the grave_[180].

Or, if health continue, his _fortune_ suffers; it being an observation as old as Solomon, and confirmed by constant experience ever since, that _he who loveth pleasure, shall not be rich_[181]. His paternal inheritance is perhaps wasted, or much reduced. And his careless youth has lost the opportunity of those improvements which should enable him to repair it. Or, if the abundant provision of wiser ancestors secure him from this mischance; or, if he has had the discretion to mix some industry and œconomy with his vices, still his good name is blasted, and so tender a plant as this is not easily restored to health and vigour. For it is a mistake to think that intemperance leaves no lasting disgrace behind it. The contrary is seen every day; and the crimes which we commit in the mad pursuit of pleasure, bring a dishonour with them, which no age can wholly outlive, and no virtue can repair[182]. It stuck close to Cæsar himself in his highest fortune: All his laurels could neither hide his _baldness_ from the observation of men, nor the infamy of that commerce by which it had been occasioned[183].

All this, it may be thought, is very hard. But such is the fact, and such the order of God’s providence. We have not the making of this system: it is made to our hands by him who ordereth all things for the best, how grievous soever his dispensations may sometimes appear to us. Our duty, and our wisdom is to reflect what that system is, and to conform ourselves to it.

If a young man, on his entrance into life, could be made duly sensible of the dreadful evils, which, in the very constitution of things, flow from vice, there is scarcely any temptation that could prevail over his virtue. But his levity and inexperience expose him to these evils: he thinks nothing of them till they arrive, and then there is no escape from them.

To conclude: if any thing can rescue unwary youth out of the hands of their own folly, it must be such a train of reflection as the text offers to us. Let it sink deep into their minds, that there are indeed _bitter things_ decreed against the iniquities of that early age; that a thousand temporal evils spring from that source; that vicious habits are in themselves vexatious and tormenting; and, that, uncorrected, and unrepented of, they fill the mind with inutterable remorse and horror.

When the sins of youth are seen in this light, it is not by giving them the soft name of infirmities, or by cloathing them with ideas of pleasure, that we shall be able to reconcile the mind to them. Such thin disguises will not conceal their true forms and natures from us. We shall still take them for what indeed they are, for sorcerers and assassins, the enchanters of our reason and the murderers of our peace.

The sum of all is comprised in that memorable advice of the Psalmist, so often quoted in this place (and, for once, let it have its effect upon us): _Keep innocency, and take heed to the thing that is right, for that shall bring a man peace at the last_[184].

Or, if the scorner will not listen to this advice, it only remains to leave him to his own sad experience; but not till we have made one charitable effort more to provoke his attention by the caustic apostrophe of the wise man: _Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but_ KNOW THOU, _that, for all these things, God will bring thee into judgement_[185].

SERMON XXVIII.

PREACHED MAY 28, 1769.

ECCLESIASTES vii. 21, 22.

_Take no heed unto all words that are spoken, lest thou hear thy
servant curse thee. For oftentimes, also, thine own heart knoweth,
that thou thyself, likewise, hast cursed others._

The royal author of this book has been much and justly celebrated for his wise aphorisms and precepts on the conduct of human life. Among others of this sort, the text may deserve to be had in reverence; which, though simply and familiarly expressed, could only be the reflexion of a man who had great experience of the world, and had studied with care the secret workings of his own mind.

The purpose of it is, to disgrace and discountenance that ANXIOUS CURIOSITY (the result of our vanity, and a misguided self-love) which prompts us to inquire into the sentiments and opinions of other persons concerning us, and to give ourselves no rest till we understand what, in their private and casual conversations, they say of us.

“This curious disposition, says the preacher, is by all means to be repressed, as the indulgence of it is both FOOLISH and UNJUST; as it not only serves to embitter your own lives by the unwelcome discoveries ye are most likely to make; but at the same time to convict your own consciences of much iniquity; since, upon reflexion, ye will find that ye have, yourselves, been guilty at some unguarded hour or other, of the same malignity or flippancy towards other men.”

In these two considerations is comprised whatever can be said to discredit this vice: the _one_, you see, taken from the preacher’s knowledge of human life; the _other_, from his intimate acquaintance with the secret depravity and corruption of the human heart.

Permit me, then, to enlarge on these two topics; and, by that means, to open to you more distinctly the WISDOM, and the EQUITY of that conduct, which is here recommended to us, of _not giving a sollicitous attention to the frivolous and unweighed censures of other men_.

I. _Take no heed_, says the preacher, _to all words that are spoken_, LEST THOU HEAR THY SERVANT CURSE THEE. This is the FIRST reason which he assigns for his advice.

The force of it will be clearly apprehended, if we reflect (as the observing author of the text had certainly done) that nothing is more flippant, nothing more unreasonably and unaccountably petulant, than the tongue of man.

It is so little under the controul, I do not say of candour, or of good-nature, but of common prudence, and of common justice, that it moves, as it were, with the slightest breath of rumour; nay, as if a tendency to speak ill of others were instinctive to it, it waits many times for no cause from without, but is prompted as we may say, by its own restlessness and volubility to attack the characters of those who chance to be the subject of discourse. Without provocation, without malice, without so much as intentional ill-will, it echoes the voice of the present company; vibrates with the prevailing tone of conversation; or takes occasion from the slightest occurrence, from some idle conceit that strikes the fancy, from the impulse of a sudden and half-formed suggestion, that stirs within us, to exercise its activity in a careless censure of other men.

Nay, what is more to be lamented, the sagacious observer of mankind will find reason to conclude, that no zeal for our interests, no kindness for our persons, shall at all times restrain this unruly member, the tongue, from taking unwelcome freedoms with us. The dearest friend we have, shall at some unlucky moment be seduced by an affectation of wit, by a start of humour, by a flow of spirits, by a sudden surmise, or indisposition, by any thing, in short, to let fall such things of us, as have some degree of sharpness in them, and would give us pain, if they were officiously reported to us.

This appears to have been the sentiment of the wise preacher in the text. Avoid, says he, this impertinent curiosity, _lest thou hear thy servant curse thee_; lest the very persons that live under thy roof and are most obliged to thee, who are reasonably presumed to have the warmest concern for thy honour and interest, and on whose fidelity and gratitude the security and comfort of thy whole life more immediately depends, lest even these be found to make free with thy character. For there is a time, when even _these_ may be carried to speak undutifully and disrespectfully of thee.

And would any man wish to make this discovery of those, who are esteemed to be, and, notwithstanding these occasional freedoms, perhaps _are_, his true servants and affectionate friends?

For think not, when this unlucky discovery is made, that the offended party will treat it with neglect, or be in a condition to consider it with those allowances, that, in reason and equity, may be required of him. No such thing: It will appear to him in the light of a heinous and unpardonable indignity; it will occasion warm resentments, and not only fill his mind with present disquiet, but most probably provoke him to severe expostulations; the usual fruit of which is, to make a deliberate and active enemy of him, who was, before, only an incautious and indiscreet friend: at the best, it will engender I know not what uneasy jealousies and black suspicions; which will mislead his judgment on many occasions; and inspire an anxious distrust, not of the faulty person himself only, but of others, who stand in the same relation to him, and, perhaps, of all mankind.

These several ill effects may be supposed, as I said, to flow from the discovery: and it will be useful to set the malignity of _each_ in its true and proper light.

1. _First_, then, consider that a likely, or rather infallible effect of this discovery, is, _to fire the mind with quick and passionate resentments_. And what is it to be in this state, but to lose the enjoyment of ourselves; to have the relish of every thing, we possess, embittered by pungent reflexions on the perfidy and baseness of those, with whom we live, and of whom it is our happiness to think well; to have the repose of our lives disturbed by the most painful of all sensations, that of supposed injury from our very friends? And for what is this wretchedness, this misery, encountered? For the idleness of an unweighed discourse; for something, which, if kept secret from us, had been perfectly insignificant; for a discourtesy, which meant nothing and tended to nothing; for a word, which came from the tongue, rather than the heart; or, if the heart had any share in producing it, was recalled perhaps, at least forgotten, in the moment it was spoken. And can it be worth while to indulge a curiosity which leads to such torment, when the object of our inquiry is itself so frivolous, as well as the concern we have in it?

2. _Another_ mischief attending the gratification of this impertinent curiosity, is, That the unwelcome discoveries we make, _naturally lead to peevish complaints and severe expostulations_; the effect of which is, not only to continue and inflame the sense of the injury already received, but to draw fresh and greater indignities on ourselves, to push the offending party on extremes, and compell him, almost, whether he will or no, to open acts of hostility against us. The former ill treatment of us, whatever it might be, was perhaps forgotten; at least it had hitherto gone no further than words, and, while it was, or was supposed to be, undiscovered, there was no thought of repeating the provocation, and there was time and opportunity left for repenting of it, and for recovering a just sense of violated duty. But when the offence is understood to be no longer a secret, the discovery provokes fresh offences. Either pride puts the aggressor on justifying what he has done; or the shame of conviction, and the despair of pardon, turns indifference into hate; ready to break out into all sorts of ill offices, and the readier, because the strong resentment of so slight a matter, as a careless expression, is itself, in turn, accounted an atrocious injury. And thus a small discourtesy, which, if unnoticed, had presently died away, shall grow and spread into a rooted _ill-will_, productive of gross reciprocal hostilities, and permanent as life itself.

It is on this account that wise men have always thought it better to connive at moderate injuries, than, by an open resentment of them, to provoke greater: and nothing is mentioned so much to the honour of a noble Roman[186], as that, when he had the papers of an enemy in his hands (which would certainly have discovered the disaffection of many persons towards the republic and himself) he destroyed them all, and prudently, as well as generously, resolved to know nothing of what they contained. And this conduct, which was thought so becoming a great man in public life, is unquestionably (on the same principle of prudence and magnanimity, to say nothing of higher motives) the duty and concern of every private man.

3. But, _lastly_, supposing the resentment conceived on the discovery of an ungrateful secret, should not break out into overt acts of hatred and revenge, still the matter would not be much mended. For, _it would surely breed a thousand uneasy suspicions_, which would prey on the hurt mind; and do irreparable injury to the moral character, as well as embitter the whole life of him who was unhappily conscious to them.

The experience of such neglect or infidelity in those whom we had hitherto loved and trusted, and from whom we had expected a suitable return of trust and love, would infallibly sour the temper, and create a constant apprehension of future unkindness. It would efface the native candour of the mind, and bring a cloud of jealousy over it; which would darken our views of human life. It would make us cold, and gloomy, and reserved; indifferent to those who deserved best of us, and unapt for the offices of society and friendship. The more we suppressed these sentiments, the more would they fester and rankle within us; till the mind became all over tenderness and sensibility, and felt equal pain from its own groundless surmises, as from real substantial injuries. In a word, we should have no relish of conversation, no sincere enjoyment of any thing, we should only be miserable _in_, and _from_ ourselves.

And is this a condition to be officiously courted, and sought after? Or rather, could we suffer more from the malice of our bitterest enemy, than we are ready to do from our own anxious curiosity to pry into the infirmities of our friends?

HITHERTO I have insisted on the danger of _giving heed to all words that are spoken_, LEST THOU HEAR THY SERVANT CURSE THEE; in other words, on the FOLLY of taking pains to make a discovery, which may prove unwelcome in itself, and dreadful in the consequent evils it may derive upon us.

II. It now remains that I say one word on the INJUSTICE, and want of equity, which appears in this practice. FOR OFTENTIMES ALSO THINE OWN HEART KNOWETH, THAT THOU THYSELF, LIKEWISE, HAST CURSED OTHERS.

And as in the former case the preacher drew his remonstrance from his knowledge of the world; so in this, he reasons from his intimate knowledge of the human heart.

Let the friendliest, the best man living, explore his own conscience, and then let him tell us, or rather let him tell himself, if he can, that he has never offended in the instance here given. I suppose, on a strict inquiry, he will certainly call to mind some peevish sentiment, some negligent censure, some sharp reflection, which, at times, hath escaped him, even in regard to his _second self_, a bosom friend. Either he took something wrong, and some suspicious circumstance misled him; or, he was out of health and spirits; or, he was ruffled by some ungrateful accident; or, he had forgotten himself in an hour of levity; or a splenetic moment had surprised him. Some or other of these causes, he will find, had betrayed him into a sudden warmth and asperity of expression, which he is now ashamed and sorry for, and hath long since retracted and condemned.

_Still further_, at the very time when this infirmity overtook him, he had no purposed unfriendliness, no resolved disaffection towards the person he allowed himself to be thus free with. His tongue indeed had offended, but his heart had scarce consented to the offence. The next day, the next hour, perhaps, he would gladly have done all service, possibly he would not have declined to hazard his life, for this abused friend.

I appeal, as the wise author of the text does, to yourselves, to the inmost recollection of your own thoughts, if ye do not know and feel that this which I have described hath sometimes been your own case. And what then is the inference from this self-conviction? Certainly, that ye ought in common justice, to restrain your inclination of prying into the unguarded moments of other men. If your best friends have not escaped your flippancy, where is the equity of demanding more reserve and caution towards yourself from them? Without doubt the proper rule is to suppose, and to forgive, these mutual indiscretions, which we are all ready to commit towards each other. We should lay no stress on these casual discourtesies; we should not desire to be made acquainted with them; we should dismiss them, if some officious whisperer bring the information to us, with indifference and neglect. To do otherwise is not only to vex and disquiet ourselves for trifles: It is to be unfair, uncandid, and _unjust_, in our dealings with others; it is to convict ourselves of partiality and hypocrisy, _For thine own heart knoweth, that thou thyself likewise hast done the same thing_.

Ye have now, then, before you the substance of those considerations which the text offers, for the prevention of that idle and hurtful curiosity of looking into the secret dispositions and discourses of other men. Ye see how foolish, how dangerous, how iniquitous it is, _to give heed to all words that are spoken_.

It becomes a man indeed to lay a severe check and restraint on his own tongue. Far better would it be, if all men did so. But they who know themselves and others, will not much expect this degree of self-government, will not, if they be wise, be much scandalized at the want of it; since they know the observance of it is so difficult and sublime a virtue; since they know that nothing less than extraordinary wisdom can, at all times, prevent the tongue of man from running into excesses; since they are even told by an Apostle, _That if any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man_[187].

Let us then allow for what we cannot well help. And let this consideration come in aid of the others, employed in the text, to expell an inveterate folly, which prompts us to lay more stress upon words, than such frivolous and fugitive things deserve. Let us regard them, for the most part, but as the shaking of a leaf, or the murmur of the idle air: they rarely merit our notice, and attention, more: or, when they do, we should find it better to indulge our _charity_, than our curiosity; I mean, to _believe well of others_, as long as we can, rather than be at the pains of an anxious inquiry for a pretence to _think ill_ of them.

THE END OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.

NICHOLS and SON, Printers, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] διὰ τοῦτο—referring to the good effect of this way of teaching on the disciples, whom it had enabled, as they confessed, to _understand_ the things, which Jesus had taught them.

[2] Tit. ii. 7.

[3] Rom. xv. 2.

[4] They did this with design, and on principle; as appears from St. Austin’s discourse _de Doctrinâ Christianâ_, in which he instructs the Christian preacher to employ, on some occasions, inelegant and even barbarous terms and expressions, the better to suit himself to the apprehensions of his less informed hearers—_non curante illo, qui docet, quantâ eloquentiâ doceat, sed quantâ evidentiâ. Cujus evidentiæ diligens appetitus aliquando negligit verba cultiora, nec curat quid benè sonet, sed quid benè indicet atque intimet quod ostendere intendit_—and what follows. L. iv. p. 74. Ed. Erasm. t. iii.

[5] 1 Cor. ii. 2.

[6] Archbishop Tillotson.

[7] Heb. iii. 2.

[8] 2 Cor. iv. 5.

[9] Matt. xi. 15.

[10] 1 Pet. iii. 3.

[11] 1 Pet iii. 15.

[12] ALPHONSUS THE WISE—I go on the common supposition, that this Prince intended a reflexion on the _system of nature_ itself; but, perhaps, his purpose was no more than, in a strong way of expression, (though it must be owned, no very decent one) to reprobate the _hypothesis_ [the _Ptolemaic_], which set that system in so bad a light.

[13] —μεταξὺ ἀλλήλων τῶν λογισμῶν κατηγορούντων ἢ καὶ ἀπολογουμένων. See the Paraphrase and Comment on this text by Mr. Taylor of Norwich, to whom I acknowledge myself indebted for the idea which governs the general method of this discourse.

[14] _Nat. Deor._ l. ii. c. 66.

[15] Sallust.

[16] Plato’s _Republic_.

[17] Xenophon’s _Inst. of Cyrus_.

[18] Rom. ch. i. ver. 28-32.—ποιεῖν τὰ μὴ καθήκοντα—συνευδοκοῦσι τοῖς πράσσουσι.

[19] Cicero, passim.

[20] Felix, Acts xxiv. 25.

[21] Ch. ii. 26.

[22] Ch. iii. 1.

[23] Chap. iii.

[24] Rom. vi. 23.

[25] 2 Cor. v. 15.

[26] 2 Cor. v. 19.

[27] 1 John ii. 2.

[28] Rom. iii. 24.

[29] 1 Tim. iv. 10.

[30] Rom. i. 9.

[31] Rom. xv. 13.

[32] Col. ii. 10.

[33] Ephes. iii. 2.

[34] John xii. 48.

[35] Luke xix. 14.

[36] 2 Peter ii. 21.

[37] St. John, xiii. 1.

[38] Ch. xiv. 1.

[39] St. John, xiv. 2.

[40] Ch. xiv. 6.

[41] Ch. xiv. 7.

[42] 1 Cor. ii. 5.

[43] Matt. xxi. 27.—xxii. 46.—xxvii. 14.

[44] Matt. xii. 38.—xvi. 1.

[45] Mark iv. 34.

[46] Mark iv. 34.

[47] Mark iv. 11.

[48] Matt. xiii. 58. Mark ix. 23.

[49] Matt. vii. 6.

[50] Mark iv. 25.

[51] John xx. 29.

[52] Isaiah lv. 8.

[53] Wisdom, ix. 13.

[54] 1 Cor. ii. 11.

[55] Rom. xiii. 3.

[56] Φῶς ἀπρόσιτον. 1 Tim. vi. 16.

[57] John xiv. 22.

[58] Τὴν λογικὴν λατρείαν. Rom. xii. 1.

[59] The dispute about _Easter_, in the second century.

[60] The dispute about _Images_, in the eighth century.

[61] Matt. xi. 29.

[62] Matt. x. 34.

[63] Job xxxii. 21.

[64] Plutarch, or whoever was the author of a fragment, printed among his moral discourses, and entitled, Πότερον τὰ τῆς ψυχῆς ἢ τὰ τοῦ σώματος Πάθη χείρονα. Par. Ed. vol. ii. p. 500.

[65] Called _Æones_. See Grotius in loc.

[66] Ἀπεράντοις.

[67] Dat nobis et Paulus brevem γενεαλογίαν, sed perutilem. GROTIUS.

[68] Rom. xii. 15.

[69] Rom. i. 32.

[70] 1 Peter iii. 16.

[71] _Les petites morales_; as the French moralists call them.

[72] Φιλανθρωπία.

[73] Φιλαδελφία.

[74] Τῆ φιλ. εἰς αλλ. ΦΙΛΟΣΤΟΡΓΟΙ.

[75] _The integrity of the upright shall guide them._ Prov. xi. 3.

[76] Δείπνου γενομένου—

[77] See more on this subject in the DISCOURSE _on Christ’s driving the merchants out of the temple_, at the end of the next volume.

[78] Ver. 14.

[79] If it be asked, why their _feet_? the answer is, that it was customary in the east for one to wash the feet of another. And this practice gave an easy introduction to the present enigmatical washing; which was equally expressive of the information designed, when performed on this part of the body, as on any other.

[80] Grotius saw the necessity of looking beyond the literal meaning of those words—_If I wash thee not_. “Mos Christi, says he, est a rebus, quæ adspiciuntur, ad sensum sublimiorem ascendere.” His comment then follows. “_Nisi te lavero_, id est, nisi _et sermone et spiritu eluero_ quod in te restat minus puri,” &c. Considering how near Jesus was to his crucifixion, when he said this, one a little wonders how the great commentator, when he was to assign the mystical sense of these words, should overlook that which lay before him. Surely his gloss should have been, _Nisi sanguine meo te eluero_, &c.—Let me just add, that the force of these words, as addressed to Peter, will be perfectly understood, if we reflect that he, who said to Jesus—_Thou shalt never wash my feet_—said on a former occasion to him, when he spoke, without a figure, of his _death_ (though not, then, under the idea of a propitiatory sacrifice, or ablution)—_Be it far from thee, Lord; this shall not be unto thee_. Matt. xvi. 22. So little did Peter see the necessity of being _washed_ by the blood of Christ! And so important was the information now given him in this _mystical_ washing—_If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me_.

[81] A remarkable instance will be given, in the Discourse referred to above, at the close of the next volume.

[82] Mark iv. 33. John xvi. 12.

[83] John xiv. 26.

[84] 1 John i. 7.

[85] Rev. i. 5.

[86] Eph. i. 7. Coloss. i. 14.

[87] 1 Cor. v. 7.

[88] 1 Pet. i. 12. 1 Cor. vi. 11. and elsewhere, _passim_.

[89] Rom. iii. 25.

[90] Luke xii. 46.

[91] Rev. vii. 14.

[92] 1 John. vi. 7.

[93] Matt. xviii. 7.

[94] Matt. vi.

[95] Ver. 12.

[96] Phil. iv. 18.

[97] See Whitby in loc.

[98] See passages cited by Dr. Hammond.

[99] 1 Cor. iii. 13.

[100] 1 Pet. i. 7.

[101] 1 Pet. iv. 12.

[102] Eccles. ii. 5.

[103] Heb. xii. 1.

[104] Heb. vi. 4, 5, 6.

[105] The difficulty in the two concluding verses of this chapter, arises from a _vivacity of imagination in the pursuit and application of metaphors_; a faculty, in which the Orientals excelled, and delighted. They pass suddenly from one idea to another, nearly, and sometimes, remotely, allied to it. They relinquish the primary sense, for another suggested by it; and without giving any notice, as we should do, of their intention. These numerous _reflected lights_, as we may call them, eagerly catched at by the mind in its train of thinking, perplex the attention of a modern reader, and must be carefully separated by him, if he would see the whole scope and purpose of many passages in the sacred writings.

[106] 1 Cor. iv. 7.

[107] 1 Cor. xiii.

[108] As in the case of the _real presence_ in the sacrament of the altar.

[109] As in the case of _good works_.

[110] An ingenious writer, who appears not to have been hackneyed in the ways of controversy, and is, therefore, the more likely to see the truth, in any plain question of religion, as well as to declare it, expresses himself, fully, to the same effect—“It is very weakly urged, that religion should keep pace with science in improvement; and that a subscription to articles must always impede its progress: for nothing can be more absurd than the idea of a progressive religion; which, being founded upon the declared, not the imagined, will of God, must, if it attempt to proceed, relinquish that Revelation which is its basis, and so cease to be a religion founded upon God’s word. God has revealed himself; and all that he has spoken, and consequently all that is demanded of us to accede to, is declared in one book, from which nothing is to be retrenched, and to which nothing can be added. All that it contains, was as perspicuous to those who first perused it, after the rejection of the papal yoke, as it can be to us NOW, or as it can be to our posterity in the FIFTIETH GENERATION.” See _A Scriptural Confutation of Mr. Lindsey’s Apology_. Lond. 1774. p. 220.

[111] Rom. xi. 33.

[112] Rom. x. 17.

[113] 1 Cor. ix. 16.

[114] Heb. iv. 12.

[115] 1 Cor. xii. 7.

[116]

——potus ut ille
Dicitur ex collo furtim carpsisse coronas,
Postquam est impransi correptus voce magistri.
Hor. 2. Sat. iii. 254.

[117] John xii. 48.

[118] 2 Cor. iv. 7.

[119] Matth. x. 16.

[120] Cic. Off. L. i. c. 31.

[121] See the Story of Musonius Rufus in Tacitus, Hist. L. iii. c. 81.

[122] Cic. de Or. L. ii. c. 18.

[123] Bene præcipiunt, qui vetant quidquam agere, quod dubites, æquum sit an iniquum: æquitas enim lucet ipsa per se; dubitatio cogitationem significat injuriæ. Cic. de Off. L. I. ix.

[124] Matth. v. 8.

[125] To the same purpose, Seneca, of the old heathen philosophers: “Antiqua sapientia,” says he, “nihil aliud, quàm FACIENDA et VITANDA, præcepit: et tunc longè meliores erant viri: postquam docti prodierunt, boni desunt. Simplex enim illa et aperta virtus in obscuram et solertem scientiam versa est, docemurque disputare, non vivere.” Senec. Ep. xcv.

[126] Corrumpere et corrumpi, _sæculum_ vocatur. Tacitus.

[127] Frequens imitatio transit in mores. Quinctil. L. I. c. XI.

[128] _Vitam impendere vero._ His motto.

[129] Mes ennemies auront beau faire avec leurs injures; ils ne m’ôteront point l’honneur d’être un homme véridique en touts chose, _d’être le seul auteur de mon siecle, & de beaucoup d’autres, qui ait écrit de bonne foi_. Rousseau, Lettre à M. de Beaumont.

[130] “Une preuve de sa bonne foi, c’est qu’il [M. Newton] a commenté l’Apocalypse. Il y trouve clairement que le Pape est l’Antichrist, et il explique d’ailleurs ce livre comme tous ceux qui s’en sont mêlés. Apparemment qu’il a voulu par ce commentaire CONSOLER LA RACE HUMAINE de la supériorité qu’il avoit sur elle.” Œuvres de Voltaire, T. v. c. 29. 1757.

“If he [K. James I.] has composed a commentary on the Revelations, and proved the Pope to be Antichrist; may not a similar reproach be extended to the famous Napier; and even to NEWTON, at a time when learning was much more advanced than during the reign of James? From the grossness of its superstitions, we may infer the ignorance of an age; but never should pronounce concerning the FOLLY OF AN INDIVIDUAL, from his admitting popular errors, consecrated with the appearance of religion.” Hume’s Hist. of Great Britain, Vol. VI. p. 136. Lond. 1763. 8vo.

[131]

Nil actum credens, dum quid superesset agendum.
Lucan.

[132] HIPPIAS, THE ELEAN. Cic. de Oratore, c. 32.

[133] SOCRATES.

[134] 2 Cor. xii. 2.

[135] 1 Cor. xiii. 2.

[136] Philip. iii. 6.

[137] Matt. v. 17.

[138] BAYLE, Comm. Phil. Part II. Ch. IV. LOCKE on Toleration, Letter I. WARBURTON, D. L. B. v. S. 11.

[139] 1 Tim. i. 15.

[140] 1 Cor. xv. 9.

[141] De se tromper en croyant vraie la religion Chrétienne, il n’y a pas grand’ chose à perdre: mais quel malheur de se tromper en la croyant fausse! M. Pascal, p. 225.

[142] Plutarch. BRUTUS.

[143] Of opening private letters, and employing spies of state. CLARENDON.

[144] John x. 32.

[145] “Illa in illo homine mirabilia fuerunt, comprehendere multos amicitiâ, tueri obsequio, cum omnibus communicare quod habebat, servire temporibus suorum omnium, pecuniâ, gratiâ, labore corporis, scelere etiam, si opus esset, et audaciâ: versare suam naturam, et regere ad tempus, atque huc et illuc torquere et flectere; cum tristibus severè, cum remissis jucunde; cum senibus graviter, cum juventute comiter; cum facinorosis audacter, cum libidinosis luxuriosè vivero. Hâc ille tam variâ multiplicique naturâ, &c.” _Cicero pro M. Cælio_, c. iii.

[146] Juventus pleraque, sed maximè _nobilium_, Catilinæ incœptis favebat. _Sallust._ c. 17. And again: omnino _cuncta plebes_, Catilinæ incœpta probabat. c. 37.

[147] 1 John iii. 21.

[148] St. Ambrose. Apud Whitby.

[149] John xviii. 31.

[150] Rom. iii. 4.

[151] The words ταπεινὸς, and _humilis_, are observed to be generally, if not always, used in a bad sense by the Greek and Latin writers.

[152] Philipp. ii. 5. 8.

[153] Matthew xvi. 24.

[154] Matth. xxiii. 33.

[155] Mark x. 21.

[156] For it is with propositions, as with _characters_, in relation to which the language of the true moralist is: “Explica, atque excute intelligentiam tuam, ut videas quæ sit in eâ species, forma, et notio viri boni.” Cic. de Off. l. III. c. 20.

[157] Prov. ii. 4.

[158] 1 Tim. v. 6.

[159] Prov. ix. 8.

[160] Queis humana sibi doleat natura negatis.
Hor. I. S. i. 75.

[161] Eccles. v. 11.

[162] Prov. xvi. 25.

[163] Prov. xxiii. 5.

[164] Si hoc est _explere_, quod statim profundas.
CIC. Phil. ii. 8.

[165] Quid sumus, et quidnam victuri gignimur. PERSIUS.

[166] 1 Tim. vi. 9.

[167]

Ardua res hæc est, opibus non tradere mores,
Et cùm tot Crœsos viceris, esse Numam.
MARTIAL, XI. vi.

[168] Matth. xix. 23.

[169] Ps. lxii. 10.

[170] Luke xvi. 9.

[171] 2 Cor. xiii. 14.

[172] 1 Thess. iv. 8.

[173] Acts xi. 16.

[174] Eph. i. 13.

[175] It was the easier to do this, as the Heathens had their Minerva and Diana, as well as grosser deities; and their vestal virgins too; though, I doubt, in less numbers than the shameless votaries of the Corinthian Venus. See STRABO, L. viii. p. 378. Par. 1620.

[176] Ps. xlvi. 4.—lxxx. 1.—xxvi. 8.

[177] Nullis POLLUITUR casta domus stupris. HOR.

Cum castum amisit POLLUTO CORPORE florem. CATUL.

[178] Dr. Whitby on the place.

[179] Rom. vi. 21.

[180] Job xx. 11.

[181] Prov. xxi. 17.

[182] The poet says well of such _stains_, as these;

_Impressæ resident nec eluentur._
CATULL.

[183] SUET. J. Cæsar, c. 45.

[184] Ps. xxxvii. 38.

[185] Eccles. c. xi. 9.

[186] Pompey, who burnt the papers of Sertorius.

[187] James iii. 2.

[Transcriber’s Note:

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.

Greek words beginning with ϖ have had the character replaced with π.]