*

by worshipping God in that generality of expression in which he himself has left some points; let her dismiss many of her Articles, and convert those which she retains into terms of peace; let her recall the terrors she suspended over freedom of inquiry; let the toleration she allows to dissenters be made absolute;" let her invite men to search the Scriptures; let her governors encourage the studious and learned of all persuasions: -let her do this-and she will be secure of the thanks of her own clergy, and what is more, of their sincerity. A greater consent may grow out of inquiry than many at present are aware of; and the few who, after all, shall think it necessary to recede from our communion, will acknowledge the necessity to be inevitable; will respect the equity and moderation of the established church, and live in peace with all its members.

I know not whether I ought to mention, among so many more serious reasons, that even the governors of the church themselves would find their ease and account in consenting to an alteration.-For, besides the difficulty of defending those decayed fortifications, and the indecency of deserting them, they either are or will soon find themselves in the situation of a master of a family, whose servants know more of his secrets than it is proper for them to know, and

But

* If a Christian can think it an intolerable thing to worship one God through one mediator Jesus Christ, in company with any such as differ from him in their notions about the metaphysical nature of Christ, or of the Holy Ghost, or the like; I am sorry for it. I remember the like objection made at the beginning of the Reformation by the Lutherans against the lawfulness of communicating with Zuinglius, and his followers; because they had not the same notion with them of the elements in the sacrament. And there was the same objection once against holding communion with any such as had not the same notions with themselves about the secret decrees of God relating to the predestination and reprobation of particular persons. whatever those men may please themselves with thinking who are sure they are arrived at the perfect knowledge of the most abstruse points, this they may be certain of, that in the present state of the church, even supposing only such as are accounted orthodox to be joined together in one visible communion, they communicate together with a very great variety and confusion of notions, either comprehending nothing plain and distinct, or differing from one another as truly and as essentially as others differ from them all; nay, with more certain difference with relation to the object of worship than if all prayers were directed (as bishop Bull says, almost all were in the first ages) to God or the Father, through the Son.-Hoadly's Answer to Dr. Hare's Sermon.

whose whispers and whose threats must be bought off at an expense which will drain the " apostolic chamber" dry.

*

Having thus examined in their order, and, as far as I understood them, the several answers given by our author to the objections against the present mode of subscrip tion, it now remains, by way of summing up the evidence, to bring forward" certain other arguments contained in the Considerations, to which no answer has been attempted. It is contended, then, I. That stating any doctrine in a confession of faith with a greater degree of "precision" than the Scriptures have done, is in effect to say, that the Scriptures have not stated it with " precision" enough; in other words, that the Scriptures are not sufficient." Mere declamation."

II. That this experiment of leaving men at liberty, and points of doctrine at large, has been attended with the improvement of religious knowledge, where and whenever it has been tried. And to this cause, so far as we can see, is owing the advantage which protestant countries in this respect possess above their popish neighbours. No answer.

III. That keeping people out of churches who might be admitted consistently with every end of public worship, and excluding men from communion who desire to embrace it upon the terms that God prescribes, is certainly not encouraging, but

* In his last note our author breaks forth into" astonishment" and indignation, at the "folly, injustice, and indecency" of comparing our church to the Jewish in our Saviour's time, and even to the " tower of Babel ;" mistaking the church, in this last comparison, for one of her monuments (which indeed, with most people of his complexion, stands for the same thing) erected to prevent our dispersion from that grand centre of catholic dominion, or, in the words of a late celebrated castlebuilder, "to keep us together." If there be any "indecency" in such a comparison, it must be chargeable on those who lead us to it, by making use of the same terms with the original architects, and to which the author of the Considerations evidently alludes. This detached note is concluded with as detached, and no less curious, an observation, which the writer thinks may be a "sufficient answer" to the whole, namely, that the author of the Considerations" has wrought no miracles for the conviction of the answerer and his associates." For what purpose this observation can be "sufficient," it is not easy to guess, except it be designed to insinuate, what may perhaps really be the case, that no less than a miracle will serve to cast out that kind of spirit which has taken so full possession of them, or ever bring them to a sound mind, and a sincere love of truth.

V. That it is not giving truth a fair chance, to decide points at one certain time, and by one set of men, which had much better be left to the successive inquiries of different ages and different persons. No answer. VI. That it tends to multiply infidels amongst us, by exhibiting Christianity under a form and in a system which many are disgusted with, who yet will not be at the pains to inquire after any other. No answer

At the conclusion of his pamphlet our author is pleased to acknowledge, what few, I find, care any longer to deny, "that there are some things in our Articles and Laturgy which he should be glad to see

amended, many which he should be willing to give up to the scruples of others," but that the heat and violence with which redress has been pursued, preclude all hope of accommodation and tranquillity—that we had better wait, therefore, for more peaceable times, and be contented with our present constitution as it is," until a fairer prospect shall appear of changing it for the better. After returning thanks in the name of the "fraternity," to him and to all who touch the burden of subscription with but one of their fingers, I would wish to leave with them this observation; that as the man who attacks a flourishing establishment writes with a halter round his neck, few ever will be found to attempt alterations but men of more spirit than prudence, of more sincerity than caution, of warm, eager, and impetuous tempers; that, consequently, if we are to wait for improvement till the cool, the calm, the discreet part of mankind begin it, till church governors solicit, or ministers of state propose it-I will venture to pronounce, that (without His interposition with whom nothing is impossible) we may remain as we are till the "renovation of all things."

HUMAN UMAN life has been said to resemble the situation of spectators in a theatre, where, whilst each person is engaged by the scene which passes before him, no one thinks about the place in which he is seated. It is only when the business is interrupted, or when the spectator's attention to it grows idle and remiss, that he begins to consider at all, who is before him or who is behind him, whether others are better accommodated than himself, or whether many be not much worse. It is thus with the various ranks and stations of society. So long as a man is intent upon the duties and concerns of his own condition, he never thinks of comparing it with any other; he is never troubled with reflections upon the different classes and orders of mankind, the advantages and disadvantages of each, the necessity or non-necessity of civil distinctions, much less does he feel within himself a disposition to covet or envy any of them. He is too much taken up with the occupations of his calling, its pursuits, cares, and business, to bestow unprofitable meditations upon the circumstances in which he sees others placed. And by this means a man of a sound and active mind has, in his very constitution, a remedy against the disturbance of envy and discontent. These passions gain no admittance into his breast, because there is no leisure there or vacancy for the trains of thought which generate them. He enjoys, therefore, ease in this respect, and ease resulting from the best cause, the power of keeping his imagination at home; of confining it to what belongs to himself, instead of sending it forth to wander among speculations which have neither limits nor use, amidst views of unattainable grandeur, fancied happiness, of extolled, because unexperienced, privileges and delights.

The wisest advice that can be given is, never to allow our attention to dwell upon

comparisons between our own condition and that of others, but to keep it fixed upon the duties and concerns of the condition itself. But since every man has not this power; since the minds of some men will be busy in contemplating the advantages which they see others possess; and since persons in laborious stations of life are wont to view the higher ranks of society, with sentiments which not only tend to make themselves unhappy, but which are very different from the truth; it may be an useful office to point out to them some of those considerations which, if they will turn their thoughts to the subject, they should endeavour to take fairly into the account.

And, first; we are most of us apt to murmur, when we see exorbitant fortunes placed in the hands of single persons; larger, we are sure, than they can want, or, as we think, than they can use. This is so common a reflection, that I will not say it is not natural. But whenever the complaint comes into our minds, we ought to recollect, that the thing happens in consequence of those very rules and laws which secure to ourselves our property, be it ever so small. The laws which accidentally cast enormous estates into one great man's possession, are, after all, the self-same laws which protect and guard the poor man. Fixed rules of property are established for one as well as another, without knowing, beforehand, whom they may affect. If these rules sometimes throw an excessive or disproportionate share to one man's lot, who can help it? It is much better that it should be so, than that the rules themselves should be broken up; and you can only have one side of the alternative or the other. To abolish riches, would not be to abolish poverty; but, on the contrary, to leave it without protection or resource. It is not for the poor man to repine at the effects of laws and rules, by which he himself is benefited every

hour of his existence; which secure to him his earnings, his habitation, his bread, his life; without which he, no more than the rich man, could either eat his meal in quietness, or go to bed in safety. Of the two, it is rather more the concern of the poor to stand up for the laws, than of the rich; for it is the law which defends the weak against the strong, the humble against the powerful, the little against the great; and weak and strong, humble and powerful, little and great, there would be, even were there no laws whatever. Beside, what, after all, is the mischief? The owner of a great estate does not eat or drink more than the owner of a small one. His fields do not produce worse crops, nor does the produce maintain fewer mouths. If estates were more equally divided, would greater numbers be fed, or clothed, or employed? Either, therefore, large fortunes are not a public evil, or, if they be in any degree an evil, it is to be borne with, for the sake of those fixed and general rules concerning property, in the preservation and steadiness of which all are interested.

Fortunes, however, of any kind, from the nature of the thing, can only fall to the lot of a few. I say, "from the nature of the thing." The very utmost that can be done by laws and government, is to enable every man, who hath health, to procure a healthy subsistence for himself and a family. Where this is the case, things are at their perfection. They have reached their limit. Were the princes and nobility, the legislators and counsellors of the land, all of them the best and wisest men that ever lived, their united virtue and wisdom could do no more than this. They, if any such there be, who would teach you to expect more, give you no instance where more has ever been attained.

But Providence, which foresaw, which appointed, indeed, the necessity to which human affairs are subjected, (and against which it were impious to complain), hath contrived, that, whilst fortunes are only for a few, the rest of mankind may be happy without them. And this leads me to consider the comparative advantages and comforts which belong to the condition of those who subsist, as the great mass of every people do and must subsist, by personal labour, and the solid reasons they have for contentment in their stations. I do not now use the terms poor and rich because that man is to be accounted poor, of whatever rank he be, and suffers the pains of poverty,

whose expenses exceed his resources; and no man is, properly speaking, poor but he. But I, at present, consider the advantages of those laborious conditions of life, which compose the great portion of every human community.

And, first; it is an inestimable blessing of such situations, that they supply a constant train of employment both to body and mind. A husbandman, or a manufacturer, or a tradesman, never goes to bed at night without having his business to rise up to in the morning. He would understand the value of this advantage, did he know that the want of it composes one of the greatest plagues of the human soul: a plague by which the rich, especially those who inherit riches, are exceedingly oppressed. Indeed it is to get rid of it, that is to say, it is to have something to do, that they are driven upon those strange and unaccountable ways of passing their time, in which we sometimes see them, to our surprise, engaged. A poor man's condition supplies him with that which no man can do without, and with which a rich man, with all his opportunities and all his contrivance, can hardly supply himself; regular engagement, business to look forward to, something to be done for every day, some employment prepared for every morning. A few of better judgment can seek out for themselves constant and useful occupation. There is not one of you takes the pains in his calling, which some of the most independent men in the nation have taken, and are taking, to promote what they deem to be a point of great concern to the interests of humanity, by which neither they nor theirs can ever gain a shilling, and in which, should they succeed, those who are to be benefited by their service, will neither know nor thank them for it. I only mention this to show, in conjunction with what has been observed above, that, of those who are at liberty to act as they please, the wise prove, and the foolish confess, by their conduct, that a life of employment is the only life worth leading; and that the chief difference between their manner of passing their time and yours, is that they can choose the objects of their activity, which you cannot. This privilege may be an advantage to some, but for nine out of ten it is fortunate that occupation is provided to their hands, that they have it not to seek, that it is imposed upon them by their necessities and occasions; for the consequence of liberty in this respect would be, that, lost in the perplexity

of choosing, they would sink into irrecoverable indolence, inaction, and unconcern; into that vacancy and tiresomeness of time and thought which are inseparable from such a situation. A man's thoughts must be going. Whilst he is awake, the working of his mind is as constant as the beating of his pulse. He can no more stop the one than the other. Hence if our thoughts have nothing to act upon, they act upon ourselves. They acquire a corrosive quality. They become in the last degree irksome and tormenting. Wherefore that sort of equitable engagement, which takes up the thoughts sufficiently, yet so as to leave them capable of turning to any thing more important, as occasions offer or require, is a most invaluable blessing. And if the industrious be not sensible of the blessing, it is for no other reason than because they have never experienced, or rather suffered, the want of it.

Again; some of the necessities which poverty (if the condition of the labouring part of mankind must be so called) imposes, are not hardships but pleasures. Frugality itself is a pleasure. It is an exercise of attention and contrivance, which, whenever it is successful, produces satisfaction. The very care and forecast that are necessary to keep expenses and earnings upon a level, form, when not embarrassed by too great difficulties, an agreeable engagement of the thoughts. This is lost amidst abundance. There is no pleasure in taking out of a large unmeasured fund. They who do that, and only that, are the mere conveyers of money from one hand to another.

A yet more serious advantage which persons in inferior stations possess, is the ease with which they provide for their children. All the provision which a poor man's child requires is contained in two words, "industry and innocence." With these qualities, though without a shilling to set him forwards, he goes into the world prepared to become an useful, virtuous, and happy man. Nor will he fail to meet with a maintenance adequate to the habits with which he has been brought up, and to the expectations which he has formed; a degree of success sufficient for a person of any condition what

of humble stations; because, in what we reckon superior ranks of life, there is a real difficulty in placing children in situations which may in any degree support them in the class and in the habits in which they have been brought up with their parents: from which great, and oftentimes distressing perplexity, the poor are free. With health of body, innocence of mind, and habits of industry, a poor man's child has nothing to be afraid of; nor his father or mother any thing to be afraid of for him.

The labour of the world is carried on by service, that is, by one man working under another man's direction. I take it for granted, that this is the best way of conducting business, because all nations and ages have adopted it. Consequently, service is the relation which, of all others, affects the greatest numbers of individuals, and in the most sensible manner. In whatever country, therefore, this relation is well and equitably regulated, in that country the poor will be happy. Now how is the matter managed with us? Except apprenticeships, the necessity of which every one, at least every father and mother, will acknowledge, as the best, if not the only practicable, way of gaining instruction and skill, and which have their foundation in nature, because they have their foundation in the natural ignorance and imbecility of youth, except these, service in England is, as it ought to be, voluntary and by contract; a fair exchange of work for wages; an equal bargain, in which each party has his rights and his redress; wherein every servant chooses his master. Can this be mended? I will add, that a continuance of this connection is frequently the foundation of so much mutual kindness and attachment, that very few friendships are more cordial, or more sincere; that it leaves oftentimes nothing in servitude except the name; nor any distinction but what one party is as much pleased with, and sometimes also as proud of, as the other.

What then (for this is the fair way of calculating) is there in higher stations to place against these advantages? What does the poor man see in the life or condition of the rich, that should render him dissatisfied with his own?

Was there as much in sensual pleasures, I mean in the luxuries of eating and drinking, and other gratifications of that sort, as some men's imaginations would represent there to be, but which no man's experience finds in them, I contend, that even in these