To shew this I must observe, first, that the poor, comparatively

speaking, are seldom disowned, for they know that they[49] shall never

be so well provided for in any other society. I must observe again, that

the members of the middle classes are also, comparatively speaking, but

seldom disowned. These must live by trade, but if so, they cannot be

better off than as Quakers. The direct conclusion then, from these

observations, will be, that the greater number of those who are

disowned, will be found among the rich, or among such as are growing

rich. Hence it appears, that, as far as this original and remote cause

is concerned, my enquiry must be, how it happens, that members of this

particular class should be excluded from membership more than those of

any other.

[Footnote 49: I by no means intend to say, that the poor do not remain

in the society from an attachment to its principles, but that this may

be a political motive also.]

In answer to this enquiry I must say, as I have observed before, that

Quakers in trade, having as good abilities, and as much diligence and

integrity as others, will succeed as well as others in it, but that,

having less sources of outgoings, their savings will be generally

greater. Hence they will have before their eyes the sight of a greater

accumulation of wealth. But in proportion as such accumulation of

substance is beheld, the love of it increases. Now while this love

increases, or while their hearts are unduly fixed on the mammon of the

world, they allow many little inconsistencies in their children to

escape their reproof. But, besides this, as the religion and the love of

the mammon of the world are at variance, they have a less spiritual

discernment than before. Hence they do not see the same irregularities

in the same light. From this omission to check these irregularities on

the one hand, and from this decay of their spiritual vision on the

other, their children have greater liberties allowed them than others in

the same society. But as these experience this indulgence, or as these

admit the customs and fashions of the world, they grow more fond of

them. Now, as they live in towns, the spark that is excited is soon

fanned into a flame. Fashions and fashionable things, which they cannot

but see daily before their eyes, begin to get the dominion. When they

are visited by wholesome advisers, they dislike the interference. They

know they shall be rich. They begin to think the discipline of the

society a cruel restraint. They begin to dislike the society itself,

and, committing irregularities, they are sometimes in consequence

disowned. But, if they should escape disownment themselves, they entail

it generally upon their children. These are brought up in a still looser

manner than themselves. The same process goes on with these as with

their parents, but in a still higher degree, till a conduct utterly

inconsistent with the principles of the society occasions them to be

separated from it. Thus in the same manner, as war, according to the old

saying, begets poverty, and poverty peace, so the pursuit of trade, with

the peculiar habits of the society, leads to riches, riches to fashion

and licentiousness, and fashion and licentiousness to disownment, so

that many Quakers educate their children as if there were to be no

Quakers in the second generation from themselves. And thus, though,

strictly speaking, irregularities are the immediate occasion of these

disownments, they are ultimately to be attributed to the original and

remote cause as now described.[50]

[Footnote 50: I hope I shall not be understood as involving the rich in

a promiscuous censure. I know as amiable examples among these and among

their children, as among others of the society. But we must naturally

expect more deviations among the rich, number for number, than among

others.]

That this is by no means an unreasonable account, I shall shew in some

measure by an appeal to facts. The American Quakers sprang from the

English. The English, though drained in consequence, were still

considerable, when compared with the former. But it is remarkable, that

the American Quakers exceed the English by at least five times their

number at the present day. Now it must undoubtedly be confessed, that

the Americans have advantages, as far as this fact is concerned, which

the English have not. They have no tithes as a cause of disownment.

Their families also, I believe, increase more rapidly. Many persons

also, as will be the case in a country that is not fully settled, live

in the neighbourhoods of the Quakers, but at a distance from those of

other religious denominations, and therefore, wishing to worship

somewhere, seek membership with them. But I apprehend that a great cause

of this disparity of number lies in this difference of the situation of

the two, that whereas the great Quaker population in England is in the

towns with but a remnant in the country, the great Quaker population in

America is in the country with but a remnant in the towns.[51] And that

the Americans themselves believe, that the place of the residence of

their members is connected in some measure with the increase and

decrease of their society, it is fair to presume, from this

circumstance, that, in several of the quarterly meetings in America,

advice has been given to parents to bring up their children in the

country, and, as little as possible, in the towns.

[Footnote 51: The number of the Quakers is undoubtedly great in one or

two of the cities in America, but the whole town-population is not

great, when compared with the whole country-population there.]

Another of the original and remote causes is education. This, as it

becomes promotive of the diminution of the society, is of two kinds. The

first may be called alien. The second is such as is afforded in the

society itself.

Some parents, growing rich, and wishing to give their children a better

education, than they can get in their own schools, send them to others

to be instructed. Now the result has not been desirable, where it has

been designed, that such children should be continued Quakers. For how

is a poor solitary Quaker boy to retain the peculiarities belonging to

his religious profession, in the face of the whole school? Will not his

opinions and manners be drowned as it were in the torrent of the

opinions and manners of the rest? How can he get out of this whirlpool

pure? How, on his return, will he harmonize with his own society? Will

not either he, or his descendants, leave it? Such an education may make

him undoubtedly both a good and an enlightened man, and so far one of

the most desirable objects in life will have been accomplished, but it

certainly tends to destroy the peculiar institution of Quakerism.

The education, which is afforded in the society itself, is divisible

again into two kinds, into that which is moral or religious, and into

that which is literary or philosophical.

It must undoubtedly be confessed, in looking into that which is moral or

religious, that sufficient care is not always taken with regard to

youth. We sometimes see fathers and sons, and mothers and daughters, so

different in their appearance and deportment, that we should scarcely

have imagined them to be of the same family. I am not now speaking of

those parents, who may live in the towns, and who may be more than

ordinarily devoted to the mammon of the world, but of some who, living

both in town and country, give an example of a liberal and amiable

spirit, and of a blameless conduct to the world. That the former should

neglect and lose sight of their offspring, when their moral vision is

clouded by an undue eagerness after money, is not to be wondered at, but

that the latter should do it, is surprising. It is certainly true that

some of these are too indulgent in their families, contrary to the plan

and manner of their own education, or that they do not endeavour to nip

all rising inconsistencies in the bud. The consequence is, that their

children get beyond control in time, when they lament in vain their

departure from the simplicity of the society. Hence the real cause of

their disownment, which occasionally follows, is not in the children

running out of bounds, but in the parents running out of bounds in the

manners of their children. And here I may add, that some parents,

dwelling too much on the disuse of forms in religion, because such

disuse is inculcated by their own doctrines, run into the opposite

extreme, and bring up their children in too much ignorance of the

general plan of Christianity, as it is laid down in the letter of the

scriptures.

With respect to education, as for it is literary or philosophical, it is

frequently sufficient for those upon whom it is bestowed. But it does

not appear to me to be carried to its proper extent, in the case of the

children of the rich, when I consider how friendly it might be made

towards the promotion of virtue. Some, we know, growing wealthy, have

had children when they were poorer, and, when in this poorer state, they

have given them an education which has been suitable to it, not

calculating upon their future rise in life. But their children, having

had such a limited education, have not had that which has been proper

for their subsequent station in life. Others again, who have been born

in better circumstances, have, on account of an undue depreciation of

human knowledge, educated their children as improperly for their

station as the former. The children then, in both these cases, have not

had an education sufficient, with the prospect of riches before them, to

keep them out of the way of harm. They have not had, in addition to any

religious instruction, that taste given them for sublime pursuits, which

should make them despise those which were frivolous. Thus many of the

corruptive opinions, fashions, and amusements of the world have charmed

them. Giving way to these, they have been overcome. When overcome, they

have run into excesses, and for these excesses they have been disowned.

But surely, with a better education, they would have thought all such

corruptive opinions, fashions, and amusements, as below their notice,

and unworthy of their countenance and support.

CHAP. IV.

_Supposed remedies for the diminution of some of these

causes--Regulations in the case of mixed marriages--Measures to be

adopted in the pursuit of trade--Education, as it is moral or

religious, to be more strictly enforced in some families--as it is

literary or philosophical, to be carried to a greater extent among the

children of the rich--Object of this latter education--Nature of it as

consisting both knowledge and prohibitions--How it would operate against

the fascinating allurements of the world, or to the end proposal._

I Purpose now to suggest, as briefly as I can, such opinions, as, if

adopted, might possibly operate as remedies to some of the evils which

have been described. In doing this I am aware of the difficulties that

await me. I am sensible that I ought not to be too sanguine as to the

result of all my observations upon this subject and yet, I cannot but

think, that I may be successful in some of them. Arduous, however, as

the task, and dubious as my success may be, I am encouraged, on the

prospect of being but partially useful, to undertake it.

On the first of the original and immediate causes which have been

mentioned, I mean mixed marriages, I shall have but little to say. I do

not see how it is possible, while the society means to keep up a due

subordination among its members, not to disown such as may marry out of

it. In mixed families, such as these marriages produce, it is in vain to

expect that the discipline can be carried on, as has been shewn in the

second volume. And, without this discipline, the society would hardly

keep up, in the extensive manner it does, the character of a moral

people. I think, however, that some good might be done by regulations to

be universally observed. Thus they, who are deputed to inform the

disowned of their exclusion from membership, should be of the most

amiable temper and conciliatory manners. Every unqualified person should

be excluded from these missions. Permission should be solicited for both

the married persons to be present on such occasions. It is difficult to

estimate the good effect which the deputed, if of sweet and tender

dispositions, or the bad effects which the deputed, if of cold and

austere manners, might have upon those they visited, or what bias it

might give the one in particular, who had never been in membership, for

or against the society. Permission also might be solicited, even when

the mission was over for future friendly opportunities or visits, which

would shew in the society itself a tender regard and solicitude for the

welfare of its former members. It is not at all improbable, from the

impression which such apparent regard and solicitude might occasion,

that the children of the visited, though not members, might be brought

up in the rules of membership. And finally it appears to me to be

desirable, that the disowned, if they should give proof by their own

lives and the education of their children, of their attachment to the

principles of the society, and should solicit restoration to membership,

should be admitted into it again without any acknowledgment of past

errors, and wholly as new and convinced members.

With respect to the second of the immediate and original causes, which

is to be found in tithes, I may observe that it is, as for as I can

collect, but a small and an inferior one, few being disowned on this

account, and still fewer now than formerly. It would be desirable,

however, few as these instances may be, to prevent them. But I fear that

no remedy can be pointed out, in which the Quakers would acquiesce,

except it could be shewn, that a distinction might be made between the

payment of ecclesiastical and lay-tithes, which would not interfere with

the great tenets of the society on this subject.

A third cause of disownment, but this belongs to the original and

remote, was shewn to be the pursuit of trade, connected as it is with

the peculiar habits of the society and a residence in the towns. I may

propose as remedies for this, first, that parents should be careful to

exhibit a good example to their children. Secondly, as I have before

observed, that they should prescribe to themselves moderation in the

acquisition of wealth, either by relinquishing trade at a given time, or

by dealing out the profits of it more liberally than common in the way

of benevolence, so that their children, in each case, may never have the

misfortune of the prospect of a large moneyed independence before their

eyes. Or lastly, that they should give them a better education than

they do at present, on which subject, according to the prescribed order

of things, I am now to speak.

A fourth cause then, but this belongs also to the original and remote,

was shewn to exist in education. And education, as it was promotive of

the diminution of the society, was of two kinds.

With respect to that part of it which is alien, the remedy is easy.

There has been great difficulty in procuring proper schoolmasters, I

mean such as have been Quakers. Two reasons may be given for this. The

first is, that the society having been backward in affording due

encouragement to learning, few of any great literary acquisitions have

been brought up in it. The second is, that persons have found, that they

could make much less of their time in such a line of employment than in

the way of trade. But surely the Quakers, as a body in comfortable and

independent circumstances, might easily remedy the evil. Does not a man,

who devotes his time to the instruction of youth, deserve to be made as

comfortable as the man who sells silver utensils, or bracelets, or

ear-rings, or other articles of trade? Is there any comparison between

the moral usefulness of these? Is there any profession more useful than

that which forms the youthful mind? or rather, is it not the most

important profession in the state?[52]

[Footnote 52: It is but justice to the Quakers to observe, that they are

taking more pains than formerly in the promotion of this object. I am

told that there are more private seminaries now kept by Quakers for the

education of the youth of their own society, than even before the

institution of Ackworth school.]

With respect to the education which is acquired in the society itself,

the remedy is not difficult. This education was shewn to be of two

kinds.

On that part of it, which is moral or religious, I may observe, that the

remedy is in the parents themselves. The first thing to be recommended

is an universal vigilance over the disposition and manners of children,

so that no censurable appearance, whether in temper or in conduct, may

be allowed to pass without suitable notice or reproof, or that the bud,

which promises to be corruptive of morals, should no sooner make its

appearance, than it should be cut off. In cases of so much importance,

as where the happiness both of parents and children is concerned, the

former should be peculiarly circumspect. They should not talk about

things, but insist upon them, on all proper occasions. They should not

point out, but redress. They should not lop off the branches, but lay

the axe to the root. And surely youth is the best season for such

wholesome interference. It is, in the first place, the season in which

a remedy is practicable; for we are assured, "if we train up a child in

the way he should go, that, when he is old, he will not depart from it."

It is, secondly, the season in which it is most practicable; for can we

hope to bend the tree so easily to our form, as the sapling from whence

it came? and, thirdly, it is the season in which it is practicable only,

for will not a small irregularity grow, if uncontrolled, to a greater?

Will not one irregularity also, if not properly checked, give birth to

others? And may not these be so incorporated into the inner man in a

course of time, that it may be as difficult for parents to eradicate

them, as for the Ethiopian to change his colour, or the leopard his

spots? But surely the Quakers ought to know the impropriety of undue

indulgences in their families, as well as any other people? Is not the

early subjugation of the will a doctrine more particularly adopted by

them as a society? Without such a subjugation do they not conceive the

mind to be in an unfit state to receive the admonitions of the pure

principle, and of course to make a true proficiency in religion? Do they

not consider themselves also as a highly professing people, and do they

not know that the world expects more from them than from others? But how

can their children ever perpetuate this extraordinary character after

them, or shew that their parents possessed it, unless they are brought

up in a peculiarly guarded manner? In addition to these observations it

may be recommended, that parents should be careful to give their

children what may be called a literal instruction in Christianity, in

contradistinction to pure theism, or to those doctrines which they

conceive may come from the teachings of the Holy Spirit, so that they

may have a more intimate knowledge of all their principles, as a

Christian body.

With respect to that part of education which may consist of knowledge

as it is literary or philosophical, I conceive it might be attended with

advantage to carry it to a greater extent than has hitherto been

practised in the society, but particularly the latter. Nothing is so

delightful to youth as experimental philosophy, by which they see the

causes of things unfolded to their view. No science takes their

attention more, or inclines them, in the farther pursuit of it, to be

satisfied with home. And yet I doubt whether this branch of learning be

not almost wholly neglected in the Quaker schools. The education which

is received in the society, as it consists of the two kinds of knowledge

described, is not, in my apprehension, carried far enough, so as to suit

the peculiar situation of the children of the rich. These are they, who

are most in danger. These are they, who, having the prospect of wealth

before them, have the prospect of being able to procure destructive

pleasures. These are they, who, having the prospect of independence, do

not fear the opinion of the world or the loss of reputation in it, like

those, who have their livelihood to obtain by their own industry. Now it

should be the particular object of the education of these, as indeed it

should be of all rich persons, so to instruct them, that, while they are

obliged to live in the world, they may be enabled to live out of it, or

deny it; so that, when seated amidst its corrupt opinions, amusements,

and fashions, they should estimate them as below their notice, and as

utterly unworthy of their countenance and support.

I should be sorry if, in holding up this species of education to a

farther encouragement, as a preservative of the morals of the children

of rich parents amidst the various temptations of life, I were to be

thought to endeavour to take away in any degree the necessity of the

influence of the Holy Spirit on the mind of man, or to deny that this

Spirit ought not to be resorted to as the first and best guide, both by

rich and poor, during their pilgrimage upon earth. For who can teach us

best to deny the world? Who can teach us best to estimate its pursuits?

Who can instruct us best to resist its temptations? To the Divine Being

then we are first to look up, as to him who can be the best author of

all our good, and the surest averter of all our evils, who can apply the

best remedy to the imperfections of our nature, and who, while he leads

us in safety, can lead us into the way of truth. But when we consider

how many are inattentive, on account of the cares, and pleasures, and

fashions, and prejudices, and customs of the world, to the secret

notices of his grace, I cannot help considering that we may be allowed

to have secondary and subordinate helps to our virtue. As the discipline

of the Quaker society may produce and preserve a certain purity of life,

so may a literary and philosophical education operate to the same end.

Such an education is in its general tendency a friend to the promotion

of virtue and to the discouragement of vice. It sets us often

unquestionably above many of the corruptive opinions and customs in the

midst of which we live. It leads us also frequently to the contemplation

of the Divine Being in all the variety of his works. It gives us

amiable, awful, and sublime conceptions of him. As far, therefore, as it

is capable of doing this, it is a useful, though it be only a

subordinate source of our purity, and we may therefore adopt it

innocently. But we are never to forget, at the same time, that, though

it may help us occasionally to resist corrupt temptations, and to

encourage desirable propensities, yet it cannot do every thing for us

that is necessary, and that we are never to overlook, on this account,

the necessity of the influence of the Holy Spirit.

To shew in what the education, which under these limitations I am going

to propose, may consist, I shall revive the controversy between the

philosophical moralists and the Quakers, as described in the eighth

chapter of the first volume. The philosophical moralists contended, that

knowledge was to be preferred, as being more to be relied upon than

prohibitions: that prohibitions were often causes of greater evils than

they were intended to prevent; that they themselves were friends to

occasional indulgencies; that they saw nothing necessarily or inherently

mischievous in the amusements of the world; that it was not wise to

anticipate danger by looking to distant prospects, where the things were

innocent in themselves; that ignorance of vice was no guardian of

morals; that causes, and not sub-causes, were to be contended against;

and that there was no certain security but in knowledge and in a love of

virtue. To this the Quakers replied, that prohibitions were sanctioned

by divine authority; that as far as they related to the corrupt

amusements of the world, they were implied in the spirit of

Christianity; that the knowledge, which should be promotive of virtue,

could not be inculcated without them; that knowledge again, if it were

to be acquired by the permission of occasional indulgences, or by being

allowed to pass through scenes which might be dangerous to virtue,

would be more ruinous than ignorance by a prohibition of vice; that

ignorance of vice was an essential in Christian morals; and that

prohibitions therefore were indispensably necessary, and better to be

relied upon, than any corrupt knowledge, which might arise from an

acquaintance with the customs of the world.

This then was the state of the controversy, as described in the first

volume. And in this state it was left. But, to explain the education

which I have in view, I shall now bring it to a conclusion.

I must observe then, that the philosophical moralists had the advantage

of the Quakers in this controversy, inasmuch as they supposed that

knowledge was a better safeguard to morals than a mere ignorance of

vice; but they failed in this, that they permitted this knowledge to be

acquired by passing through scenes which might not be friendly to

virtue. Now this latter permission is inadmissible in a Christian

education; for no Christian youth ought to be permitted to see or to

hear that which ought not to be uttered or exhibited by a Christian. The

Quakers, on the other hand, had the advantage of the philosophical

moralists, inasmuch as they considered ignorance to be better than

corrupted knowledge; but they failed in this, that they seemed to rely

upon ignorance of vice as a safeguard against it, without a proper

portion of knowledge. The education then, to which I allude, ought to

embrace the most valuable positions of both. It should consist of

knowledge, and it should consist of wise prohibitions also. Knowledge

and prohibitions are inseparable. While the mind is gaining knowledge,

it should be kept innocent. And while it is kept innocent, it should be

gaining knowledge. Youth should have that kind of knowledge instilled

into them, by which they should discern the value of the prohibitions

which are enjoined them. They should have such and so much knowledge,

that if they were accidentally placed in the way of the things

prohibited, they should be able to look them in the face, and pass

through them without injury. This is that education, which, without

superseding the necessity of the influence of the Holy Spirit, has a

tendency to enable persons, while they live in the world, to live out of

it or deny it.

But lest I should not be clearly understood upon this subject, I will

exemplify how such an education would act or operate to the end

proposed.

And, first of all, knowledge may be acquired by reading. Now there are

two kinds of reading, the one useful, the other dangerous. By the

premises, I am to adopt the first, and to prohibit the last. If then I

accustom my child to the best and purest models of ancient and modern

literature, I give him a certain taste for composition. If I accustom

him to the purest and most amiable sentiments, as contained in these, I

give him a love of virtue. If I heighten these sentiments by beautiful

selections from the more pure and amiable sentiments of Christianity, I

increase that love. If I give him in my own conduct an example, he sees

me practise that which I recommend. I give him then a taste for the

purest reading, and the choicest compositions, and I offer to his

notice, at the same time, a certain system of morality, which he cannot

but gradually adopt as his own. Now I would ask, what influence could a

novel have upon a mind formed in this manner, if thrown accidentally in

his way. If its composition were but moderate, as is the case with most

of them, it would not suit the taste of my child. If its sentiments were

impure, it would disgust him. These would be so contrary to the taste

and to the feelings he had acquired, that the poison in such a book,

like a ball, fired at a globular surface, would slide off without

detriment to the morals of my child.

Knowledge again may be acquired in the course of amusements, and of such

as may be resorted to within doors. Now of these again there are two

kinds, the innocent and the corruptive. By the premises I am to be

concerned with the first only. If then I accustom my child to

mathematical and philosophical pursuits, if I incite him to experiments

in these, if I assist him in measuring the motions of the heavenly

bodies, and in discovering the wisdom and power of Omnipotence as

displayed in these, if I occasion him to be interested in, the

contemplation of such subjects, what have I done for my child? Have I

not called out his intellectual faculties? Have I not laid in him the

foundation of a serious and a thoughtful mind? Have I not accustomed him

to solid things, in opposition to those that are light, and to sublime

things, in opposition to those that are frivolous? Have I not inculcated

in him a love for science? But take my child, after he has been

accustomed to such thoughts and such subjects, to the theatre. Let the

pantomime display its various attracting scenes to his view. And will he

not think his entertainment low and superficial, in comparison of that

which he left at home.

Knowledge again may be acquired by amusements which are out of doors.

These again may be innocent or exceptionable. As before, I have nothing

to do but with the former. If then I accustom my child to range the

fields, as an employment promotive of his health, and connect this

healthy exercise with the entertainment of botanical pursuits, do I

not, in examining with him the shape, the colour, and the mechanism of

plants and flowers, confirm in him his former love of the works of

nature? Do I not confirm his former notion of the wisdom and power of

omnipotence? Do I not teach him by these, and the other pursuits which

have been mentioned, that all recreations should be innocent, and that

time should be wisely employed? But hark! another amusement, and one of

those which are followed out of doors, is at hand. The hounds are in

view, and fast approaching. My son is accidentally solicited to join

them. He would ask my permission, but I am absent. At length he goes. He

follows them in wild tumult and uproar for an hour. He sees some

galloping over hedges and ditches like madmen, and hazarding their

persons in a presumptuous manner. He sees others ride over the

cultivated fields of their neighbours, and injure the rising corn. He

finds that all this noise and tumult, all this danger and injury, are

occasioned by the pursuit of a little hare, whose pain is in proportion

to the joy of those who follow it. Now can this diversion, educated as

my child has been, fascinate him? Will he not question its innocence?

And will he not question its consistency as a natural pursuit, or as an

employment for his time?

It is thus then that knowledge will be found to operate as an artificial

and innocent preservative against the destructive pleasures of the

world. But prohibitions without knowledge will be but of little avail,

where there is a prospect of riches, and the power of gratifying any

improper appetites as they may arise. But by knowledge we shall be able

to discover the beauty of things, so that their opposites, or the things

prohibited, will cease to charm us. By knowledge we shall be able to

discern the ugliness of the things prohibited, so that we shall be

enabled to loathe them, if they should come into our way. And thus an

education, conducted upon the principles of knowledge, may operate to

the end proposed.

CHAP. V.

_Education continued, as consisting of knowledge and prohibitions--Good,

which the Quakers have done by prohibitions, without any considerable

knowledge--Greater good, which they would do with it--Knowledge then a

great desideratum in the Quaker education--Favourable state of the

society for the communication of it with purity, or without detriment to

morals--In what this knowledge should consist--General advantages of

it--Peculiar advantages, which it would bring to the society._

When we consider that men have all the same moral nature, we wonder, at

the first sight, at the great difference of conduct which they exhibit

upon earth. But when we consider the power of education upon the mind,

we seem to lose our surprize. If men in all countries were educated

alike, we should find a greater resemblance in their character. It is,

in short, education, which makes the man. And as education appears to me

to be of so much importance in life, I shall make it the subject of this

and the succeeding chapter.

All education should have two objects in view, the opening of the

understanding and the improvement of the heart. Of the two, the latter

is most important. There cannot be a question, whether the person of the

most desirable character be the virtuous or the learned man. Without

virtue knowledge loses half its value. Wisdom, without virtue, may be

said to be merely political; and such wisdom, whenever it belongs to a

man, is little better than the cunning or craftiness of a fox. A man of

a cultivated mind, without an unshaken love of virtue, is but a dwarf of

a man. His food has done him no good, as it has not contributed to his

growth. And it would have been better, for the honour of literature, if

he had never been educated at all. The talents of man, indeed,

considering him as a moral being, ought always to be subservient to

religion. "All philosophy, says the learned Cudworth, to a wise man, to

a truly sanctified mind, as he in Plutarch speaketh, is but matter for

divinity to work upon. Religion is the queen of all those inward

endowments of the soul: and all pure natural knowledge, all virgin and

undeflowered arts and sciences, are her handmaids, that rise up and call

her blessed."

Now if the opening of the understanding, and the improvement of the

heart, be the great objects to be attained, it will follow, that both

knowledge and wise prohibitions should always be component parts of the

education of youth. The latter the Quakers have adopted ever since the

institution of their society. The former they have been generally

backward to promote, at least to any considerable extent. That they have

done good, however, by their prohibitions, though unaccompanied by any

considerable knowledge, it would be disingenuous not to acknowledge. But

this goad has been chiefly confined to the children of those who have

occupied middle stations in the society. Such children have undoubtedly

arrived at the true wisdom of life at an early age, as I described in

the first volume, and have done honour to the religion they professed.

But prohibitions, without knowledge, have not been found to answer so

well among the children of those who have had the prospect of a large

moneyed independence before them, and who have not been afraid either of

the bad opinion of their own society, or of the bad opinion of the

world. It has been shewn, however, that knowledge with prohibitions

would, in all probability, be useful to these; that it would have a

tendency to enable them, in the perilous situation in which they are

placed, to stand against the corrupt opinions and fashions, and while

they were living in the world, to live out of it, or to deny it.

Peculiarly situated as the Quakers are, they have opportunities, beyond

any other people, of ingrafting knowledge into their system of education

without danger, or, in other words, of giving knowledge to their

children with the purity which Christianity would prescribe. The great

misfortune in the world is, that a learned education is frequently

thought more of than a virtuous one; that youth, while they are

obtaining knowledge, are not properly watched and checked; and that they

are suffered to roam at large in the pursuit of science, and to

cultivate or not, at their own option, the science, if I may so call it,

of religion. Hence it will happen, that, where we see learned men, we

shall not always see these of the most exemplary character. But the

Quakers have long ago adopted a system of prohibitions, as so many

barriers against vice, or preservatives of virtue. Their constitution

forbids all indulgences that appear unfriendly to morals. The Quakers

therefore, while they retain the prohibitions which belong to their

constitution, may give encouragement to knowledge, without a fear that

it will be converted to the purposes of vice.

The Quakers, again, have opportunities or advantages, which others have

not, in another point of view. In the great public seminary at Ackworth,

which belongs to them, and which is principally for those who are of the

poor and middle classes, every thing is under the inspection and

guidance of committees, which can watch and enforce an observance of any

rules that may be prescribed. Why then, if public seminaries were

instituted for the reception of the children of the rich, or if the rich

were to give encouragement to large private seminaries for the same

purposes, should they not be placed under the visiting discipline of the

society? Why should they not be placed under the care of committees

also? Why should not these committees see that the two great objects of

the education proposed were going on at the same time, or that, while

knowledge was obtaining, discipline had not been relaxed. Why should not

such seminaries produce future Penns, and Barclays, and others, who,

while they were men capable of deep literary researches, should be

exemplary for their virtue?

As knowledge then ought to form a part of the proposed education, on a

much larger scale than has been hitherto encouraged, I shall say a few

words as to the component parts of it, and as to the general advantages

of these, and I shall afterwards speak to the advantages which the

society in particular would derive from such a change.

In the education I propose, I do not mean, in the slightest manner, to

break in upon the moral system of the Quakers, as described in the first

volume. I do not propose to them the polite arts. I do not recommend

them to make children musicians, or that they should learn, under the

dancing-master, to step gracefully. I advise only such knowledge as will

be strictly innocent and useful.

In the first place, I recommend a better classical education. Classical

knowledge gives the foundation both of particular and universal grammar.

While it gives the acquisition of the dead languages, it is the root,

and thereforce facilitates the acquisition of many of the living. As

most of the technical terms in the professions and sciences are borrowed

from these languages, it renders them easily understood. The study of

the structure and combination of words and sentences calls forth the

reflecting powers of youth, and expands their genius. It leads to

penetration and judgement. It induces habits of diligence and patience.

By means of this knowledge we have access to the sacred writings in the

languages in which they were written, and we are therefore not liable to

be imposed upon, for the sense of them, by others. We become acquainted

also, by means of it, with the sentiments and knowledge of the ancients.

We see their thoughts and expressions. We acquire a literary taste.

A knowledge of ancient history is necessarily conpected with the former.

To this, however, should be added that of the modern. History, while it

entertains us, instructs us morally. We cannot see the rise and fall of

empires, or the causes of their formation and dissolution, or read the

histories of good and bad men, without impressions of moral importance

to ourselves.

A philosophical education is peculiarly important. By this I mean, a

general knowledge of the mathematics, of mechanics, optics,

hydrostatics, astronomy, chemistry, botany, and the like. The teaching

of these should be accompanied by experiments. Experimental philosophy,

as I observed before, is peculiarly interesting to youth. Such knowledge

teaches us the causes of things. Mysteries, hitherto hidden both in the

garden and in the field, and in the heaven and in the air, lie unfolded

to our view. Every walk we take, while the surface of the earth remains

as it is, and the canopy of the firmament is spread over us, gives its

the opportunity, in all the innumerable objects presented to our view,

of almost endless investigation and delight. And the deeper we go into

the hidden things of nature, and the more we unfold them, have we not a

better belief of the existence of the Creator, and grander notions of

the symmetry, order, beauty, and wisdom of his works? Such knowledge

leads also, as it has always done, to discoveries, by which we may make

ourselves useful to mankind. And, besides the utility, of which it may

make us capable, can discoveries of the principles of nature lessen oar

love and admiration of the first great Cause?

To philosophical knowledge should be added general reading. Such reading

should be of the purest kind. Of knowledge, acquired in this manner, it

maybe said, that it opens new sources of right views and sentiments, and

this even independently of Christianity, from which our most valuable

information is derived. Thus at a time, when as a nation we professed to

be Christians, we shed the blood of the martyrs. Thus when even such men

as the great Sir Matthew Hale, one of the brightest Christian patterns

in our country, were at the head of it, we condemned persons to death

for witchcraft. But knowledge superior to that of those times, has

taught us better things. By means of it we perceive, that persecution

does not destroy, but that it propagates opinions, and that the belief

of the existence of witchcraft is absurd.

These then appear to me to be the general advantages, or such as are

inseparable from education when composed of the various branches of

knowledge which have been described. I shall now endeavour to shew the

peculiar advantages, which the Quakers would derive from it.

It will appear then, if we look back into the character of the Quakers,

as described in this volume, that the world charges them, I mean the

more affluent part of them, with having less learning, than others in a

similar rank of life. But surely the education I propose would remove

this intellectual defect.

The world again, as we have seen, has fixed another intellectual blemish

upon them by the imputation of superstition. But how does superstition

enter, but where there is a want of knowledge? Does not all history bear

testimony, that in proportion as men have been more or less enlightened,

they have been less or more liable to this charge? It is knowledge then,

which must banish this frightful companion of the mind. Wherever

individuals acknowledge, in a more extensive degree than others, the

influence of the Divine Spirit in man, these, of all other people, will

find the advantages of it. Knowledge leads to a solution of things, as

they are connected with philosophy, or the theory of the human mind. It

enables men to know their first and their second causes, so as to

distinguish between causes and occasions. It fixes the nature of action

and of thought; and, by referring effects to their causes, it often

enables men to draw the line between the probability of fancy and

inspiration. How many good men are there, who, adopting a similar creed

with that of the Quakers on this subject, make themselves uneasy, by

bringing down the Divine Being, promiscuously and without due

discrimination, into the varied concerns of their lives? How many are

there, who attribute to him that which is easily explained by the

knowledge of common causes? Thus, for instance, there are appearances in

nature, which a person of an uninformed mind, but who should adopt the

doctrine of the influence of the Spirit, would place among signs, and

wonders, and divine notices, which others, acquainted with the

philosophy of nature, would almost instantly solve. Thus again there may

be occasions, which persons, carrying the same doctrine to an undue

extent, might interpret into warning or prophetic voices, but which a

due exercise of the intellect, where such exercise has been properly

encouraged, would easily explain. This reminds me of a singular

occurrence: A friend of mine was lately walking in a beautiful vale. In

approaching a slate-quarry he heard an explosion, and a mass of stone,

which had been severed by gunpowder, fell near him as he walked along.

He went immediately to the persons employed. He represented the

impropriety of their conduct in not having given proper notice to such

as were passing by, and concluded by declaring emphatically, that they

themselves would be soon destroyed. It happened, but six weeks

afterwards, that two of these men were blown to pieces. The words then

of my friend were verified. Now I have no doubt that ignorant persons,

in the habit of referring every thing promiscuously to the Divine

interference, would consider my friend as a prophet, and his words as a

divinely forewarning voice. But what did my friend mean? or where did he

get his foresight on this occasion? The answer is, that my friend, being

accustomed to the exercise of his rational faculties, concluded, that if

the people in question were so careless with respect to those who should

be passing by in such times of danger, they would by custom become

careless with respect to themselves, and that ultimately some mischief

would befal them. It is knowledge, then, acquired by a due exercise of

the intellectual powers, and through the course of an enlightened

education, which will give men just views of the causes and effects of

things, and which, while it teaches them to discover and acknowledge the

Divine Being in all his wondrous works, and properly to distinguish him

in his providences, preserves them from the miseries of superstition.

The world again has fixed the moral blemish of the money-getting, spirit

upon the Quaker character. But knowledge would step in here also as a

considerable corrector of the evil. It would shew, that there were other

objects besides money, which were worthy of pursuit. Nor would it point

out only new objects, but it would make a scale of their comparative

importance. It would fix intellectual attachments, next to religion, in

the highest class. Thus money would sink in importance as a pursuit, or

be valued only as it was the means of comfort to those who had it, or of

communicating comfort to others. Knowledge also would be useful in

taking off, to a certain degree, the corruptive effects of this spirit,

for it would prevent it by the more liberal notions it would introduce,

from leaving the whole of its dregs of pollution upon the mind.

The Quakers again, as we have seen, have been charged with a want of

animation, from whence an unjust inference has been drawn of the

coldness of their hearts. But knowledge would diminish this appearance.

For, in the first place, it would enlarge the powers, and vary the

topics of conversation. It would enliven the speaker. It would give him

animation in discourse. Animation again would produce a greater

appearance of energy, and energy of the warmth of life. And there are

few people, whatever might be the outward cold appearance of the person

with whom they conversed, whose prejudices would not die away, if they

found a cheerful and an agreeable companion.

Another charge against the Quakers was obstinacy. This was shewn to be

unjust. The trait, in this case, should rather have been put down as

virtue. Knowledge, however, would even operate here as a partial remedy.

For while the Quakers are esteemed deficient in literature, their

opposition to the customs of the world, will always be characterized as

folly. But if they were to bear in the minds of their countrymen a

different estimation as to intellectual attainments, the trait might be

spoken of under another name. For persons are not apt to impute

obstinacy to the actions of those, however singular, whom they believe

to have paid a due attention to the cultivation of their minds.

It is not necessary to bring to recollection the other traits that were

mentioned, to see the operation of a superior education upon these. It

must have already appeared, that, whatever may be the general

advantages of learning, they would be more than usually valuable to the

Quaker character.

CHAP. VI.

_Arguments of those of the society examined, who may depreciate human

knowledge--This depreciation did not originate with the first

Quakers--with Barclay--Penn--Ellwood--but arose afterwards--Reputed

disadvantages of a classical education--Its heathen mythology and

morality--Disadvantages of a philosophical one--Its scepticism--General

disadvantages of human learning--Inefficiency of all the arguments

advanced._

Having shewn the advantages, which generally accompany a superior

education, I shall exhibit the disadvantages which may be thought to

attend it, or I shall consider those arguments, which some persons of

this society, who have unfortunately depreciated human learning, though

with the best intentions, might use against it, if they were to see the

contents of the preceding chapter.

But, before I do this, I shall exonerate the first Quakers from the

charge of such a depreciation. These exhibited in their own persons the

practicability of the union of knowledge and virtue. While they were

eminent for their learning, they were distinguished for the piety of

their lives. They were indeed the friends of both. They did not

patronize the one to the prejudice and expulsion of the other.[53]

[Footnote 53: George Fox was certainly an exception to this as a

scholar. He was also not friendly to classical learning on account of

some of the indelicate passages contained in the classical authors,

which he and Farley and Stubbs, took some pains to cite, but, if these

had been removed, I believe his objections would have ceased.]

Barclay, in his celebrated apology, no where condemns the propriety or

usefulness of human learning, or denies it to be promotive of the

temporal comforts of man. He says that the knowledge of Latin, Greek and

Hebrew, or of logic and philosophy, or of ethics, or of physics and

metaphysics, is not necessary. But not necessary for what? Mark his own

meaning. Not necessary to make a minister of the Gospel. But where does

he say that knowledge, which he himself possessed to such a considerable

extent, was not necessary, or that it did not contribute to the innocent

pleasures of life? What would have been the character of his own book,

or what would have been its comparative value and usefulness, if he had

not been able to quote so many authors to his purpose in their original

texts, or to have detected so many classical errors, or to have

introduced such apposite history, or to have drawn up his propositions

with so much logical and mathematical clearness and precision, or if he

had not been among the first literary characters of his day?

William Penn was equally celebrated with Barclay as a scholar. His works

afford abundant proof of his erudition, or of the high cultivation of

his mind. Like the rest of his associates, he was no advocate for

learning, as a qualification for a minister of the Gospel, but he was

yet a friend to it, on the principle, that it enlarged the

understanding, and that it added to the innocent pleasures of the mind.

He entreated his wife, in the beautiful letter which he left her, before

he embarked on his first voyage to America, "not to be sparing of

expence in procuring learning for his children, for that by such

parsimony all was lost that was saved." And he recommended also in the

same letter the mathematical or philosophical education which I have

described.

Thomas Ellwood, a celebrated writer among the early Quakers, and the

friend of the great John Milton, was so sensible of the disadvantages

arising from a want of knowledge, that he revived his learning, with

great industry, even after he had become a Quaker. Let us hear the

account which he gives of himself in his own Journal. "I mentioned

before, says he, that, when I was a boy, I made some progress in

learning, and that I lost it all again before I came to be a man. Nor

was I slightly sensible of my last therein, till I came amongst the

Quakers. But then I both saw my loss, and lamented it; and applied

myself with the utmost diligence, at all leisure times to recover it. So

false I found that charge to be, which in those times was east as a

reproach upon the Quakers, that they despised and decried all human

learning, because they denied it to be essentially necessary to a Gospel

ministry, which was one of the controversies of those times."

"But though I toiled hard, and spared no pains to regain what I had once

been master of, yet I found it a matter of so great difficulty, that I

was ready to say, as the noble eunuch to Philip, in another case, how

can I, unless I had some man to guide me?"

"This I had formerly complained of to my especial friend Isaac

Pennington, but now more earnestly; which put him upon considering and

contriving a means for my assistance."

"He had an intimate acquaintance with Dr. Paget, a physician of note in

London, and he with John Milton, a gentleman of great note for learning,

throughout the learned world, for the accurate pieces he had Written on

various subjects and occasions."

"This person, having filled a public station in the former times, lived

now a private and retired life in London; and, having wholly lost his

sight, kept always a man to read to him, which usually was the son of

some gentleman of his acquaintance, whom in kindness he took to improve

in his learning."

"Thus by the mediation of my friend Isaac Pennington with Dr. Paget, and

of Dr. Paget with John Milton, was I admitted to come to him; not as a

servant to him (which at that time he needed not) nor to be in the house

with him; but only to have the liberty of coming to his house at certain

hours, when I would, and to read to him what books he should appoint me,

which was all the favour I desired."

By means of this extract, made from the life of Thomas Ellwood, we come

to three conclusions. First, that the early Quakers were generally men

of eminent learning. Secondly, that they did not decry or depreciate

human knowledge. And thirdly, that the calumny of such a depreciation by

them arose from the controversy which they thought it right to maintain,

in which they denied it to be necessary as a qualification for a Gospel

minister.

This latter conclusion brings me round again to the point. And here I

must observe, that, though this famous controversy occasioned the first

Quakers to be unduly blamed on account of such a depreciation, yet it

contributed to make some of their immediate successors, as I stated in a

former volume, justly chargeable with it. But whether this was or was

not the real cause, it is not material to the question. Many of the

society, from came cause or other, did undoubtedly, in the age

immediately succeeding that of their founders, begin to depreciate human

knowledge, the effects of which, though gradually dissipating, have not

been wholly done away at the present day. The disadvantages, therefore,

of human learning, or the arguments which would be advanced against it

by those who may undervalue it, I shall now consider.

These arguments may be divided into particular and general. On the

former I shall first speak.

A classical education is considered to be objectionable, first, on

account of the Heathen mythology that is necessarily connected with it.

Its tendency, as it relates to fabulous occurrences, is thought to be

unfavourable, as it may lead to a romantic propensity, and a turn for

fiction. But surely the meaning of such occurrences cannot be well

mistaken. If they are represented to our view in fable, they have had

their foundation in truth. Many of them again are of such importance,

that we could not wish to see them annihilated. Let us refer, for

example, to the story of Deucalion and Pyrrha. Is it not one among the

many outward confirmations of the truth of the history of Moses? Or do

we not trace in it additional proofs of the deluge, and of the renewal

of mankind?

Its tendency again, as it relates to the fabulous history of the Heathen

gods, their number, their offices, and their character, is considered as

degrading and exceptionable. I will concede this for a moment. But may

it not, on the other hand, be rendered instructive and useful? May not

the retention of such an history be accompanied with great moral

advantages to our children? The emperor Theodosius commanded the idol

temples to be destroyed. Instead of devoting them to the use of the

Christians of those times, by which they might have been preserved to

future generations, the most beautiful remains of antiquity were

reduced to ruins. But would it not have been better, if Theodosius had

brought good out of evil by retaining them? Would it not have been a

high moral gratification to those who knew the fact, that temples,

appropriated to the worship of idols, had been devoted to the service of

the only true God? Would it not have been a matter of joy to these to

have reflected upon the improving condition of mankind? And, while they

looked up to these beautiful structures of art, might not the sight of

them have contributed to the incitement of their virtue? If it be the

tendency of the corrupt part of our nature to render innocent things

vicious, it is, on the other hand, in the essence of our nature to

render vicious things in process of time innocent, so that the very

remnants of idolatry may be made subservient to our moral improvement.

"If, as I observed in the first volume, we were to find an alter which

had been sacred to Moloch, but which had been turned into a

stepping-stone to help the aged and infirm upon their horses, why should

we destroy it? Might it not be made useful to our morality, as for as it

could be made to excite sorrow for the past and gratitude for the

present?" And in the same manner the retention of the Heathen mythology

might be made serviceable. Ought it not, whenever we contemplate it, to

make us thankful, that we have not the dark and cheerless path of our

ancestors to tread; that we have clearer light; that we have surer

prospects; that we have a steadier ground of hope; and ought we not, on

a contemplation of these superior advantages, brought to us by

revelation, to be roused into the practice of a superior virtue.

Classical education again is considered as objectionable by the Quakers

on account of the Heathen notions, which it may spread. Thus the highest

reputation of man is placed in deeds of martial achievement, and a

martial ardour is in consequence infused into youth, which it is

difficult to suppress. That such notions and effect are produced, there

can be no doubt; but how are we to avoid these whilst we are obliged to

live in the world? The expulsion of the classics would not expel them.

Our own newspapers, which are open to all, spread the same opinions, and

are instrumental of course in producing the same excitements, but they

do it in a much more objectionable way than the classical authors, that

is, they do it with less delicacy, and with a more sanguinary applause.

But where, as I observed before, shall we retire from such impressions?

Does not the recruiting drum propagate them in all our towns? Do not the

ringing of the bells, and the illuminations, which occasionally take

place in the time of war, propagate them also? And do we not find these,

both in war and in peace, the sentiments and impressions of the world?

Our own notions then, our own writings, and our own customs, are more to

be blamed in this respect, than the literary compositions of ancient

times. But this, of all others, ought to be least an objection with the

Quakers to such an education; because, to their honour, they have a

constant counteraction of the effects of such sentiments and impressions

in the principles of their own constitution, and which counteraction

cannot cease, while, by the bearing of their testimony, they live in a

continual protest against them.

The last objection to a classical education is, that the system of the

Heathen morality is generally too deficient for those who are to be

brought up as Christians. To this I answer, that it is quite as good as

the system of the morality of the world. I could procure purer

sentiments, and this generally from the Heathen authors usually

called[54] classical, than I can collect from many, even of the admired

publications of our own times. The morality of the heathens is not so

deficient as many have imagined. If their best opinions were duly

selected and brought into one view, the only matter of surprise would

be, how, with no other than the law written upon the heart, they had

made such sublime discoveries. It was principally in their theology,

where the law written upon the heart could not reach, that the ancients

were deficient. They knew but little of the one true God. They did not

know that he was a Spirit, and that he was to be worshiped in spirit and

in truth. They were ignorant of his attributes. They had learnt nothing

of the true origin, nature, and condition of man, or of the scheme of

creation and redemption. These things were undoubtedly hidden from the

eyes of the ancient philosophers. And it was in knowledge of this kind

chiefly, that their deficiency was apparent. But how is this particular

deficiency detrimental to youth, or how rather might it not be rendered

useful to them in the way described? What a sublime contrast does

knowledge, as exhibited by revelation, afford to the ignorance of those

times, and what joy and gratitude ought we not to feel in the

comparison? And this is the only use which can be made of their

mythology? For when we send youth to the classical authors, we send them

to learn the languages, and this through a medium where the morality is

both useful and respectable, but we do not send them, living where the

blessings of revelation are enjoyed, to be instructed in religion.

[Footnote 54: It must however be acknowledged, that, amidst beautiful

sentiments, such as are indelicate are occasionally interspersed. But

the quakers might remedy this objection by procuring a new edition of

the purest classics only, in which particular passages might be omitted.

They might also add new Latin notes, founded on Christian principles,

where any ideas were found to be incorrect, and thus make Heathenism

itself useful, as a literal teacher of a moral system. The world, I

believe, would be obliged to the Quakers for such an edition, and it

would soon obtain in most of the schools of the kingdom.]

The principal argument against a philosophical education, which is the

next subject for consideration, is, that men, who cultivate such

studies, require often more proofs of things than can always be had, and

that, if these are wanting, they suspend their belief. And as this is

true in philosophy, so it may be true in religion. Hence persons

accustomed to such pursuits, are likely to become sceptics or infidels.

To this I answer, that the general tendency of philosophy is favourable

to religion. Its natural tendency is to give the mind grand and sublime

ideas, and to produce in it a belief of the existence of one great

cause, which is not visible among men. Thus, for example, I find that

the planets perform a certain round! They perform it with a certain

velocity. They do not wander at random, but they are kept to their

orbits. I find the forces which act upon them for this purpose. I find,

in short, that they are subject to certain laws. Now, if the planets

were living agents, they might have prescribed these laws to themselves.

But I know that this, when I believe them to consist of material

substances, is impossible. If then, as material substances, they are

subject to laws, such laws must have been given them. There must have

been some lawgiver. In this manner then I am led to some other great,

and powerful, and invisible Agent or Cause. And here it may be observed,

that if philosophers were ever baffled in their attempts at discovery,

or in their attempts after knowledge, as they frequently are, they would

not, on this account, have any doubt with respect to the being of a God.

If they had found, after repeated discoveries, that the ideas acquired

from thence were repeatedly or progressively sublime, and that they led

repeatedly or progressively to a belief of the existence of a superior

Power, is it likely that they would all at once discard this belief,

because there researches were unsuccessful? If they were to do this,

they would do it against all the rules of philosophizing, and against

the force of their own habits. I say, that analogical is a part of

philosophical reasoning, and that they would rather argue, that, as such

effects had been uniformly produced, so they would probably still be

produced, if their researches were crowned with success. The tendency

then of philosophical knowledge is far otherwise than has been supposed.

And it makes highly in favour of the study of these sciences, that those

who have cultivated them the most, such as Newton, and Boyle, and

others, have been found among the ablest advocates for religion.[55]

[Footnote 55: I by no means intend to say, that philosophy leads to the

religion called Christianity, but that it does to Theism, which is the

foundation of it.]

I come now, to the general arguments used by the Quakers against human

learning, the first of which is, that they who possess it are too apt to

reduce religion to reason, and to strip it of the influence of the

Spirit. But this is contrary, as a general position, to all fact. We

find no mention of this in history. The fathers of the church were the

most eminent for learning in their own days, and these insisted upon the

Influence of the Spirit in spiritual concerns, as one of the first

articles of their faith. The reformers, who succeeded these, were men of

extensive erudition also, and acknowledged the same great principle. And

nine-tenths, I believe, of the Christians of the present, day, among

whom we ought to reckon nine-tenths of the men of learning also, adopt a

similar creed.

Another general argument is, that learning is apt to lead to conceit and

pride, or to a presumed superiority of intellect, in consequence of

which men raise themselves in their own estimation, and look down upon

others as creatures of an inferior order of race. To this I may answer,

that as prodigies are daily produced in nature, though they may be but

as one to a hundred thousand when compared with the perfect things of

their own kind, so such phenomena may occasionally make their appearance

in the world. But as far as my own experience goes, I believe the true

tendency of learning to be quite the reverse. I believe the most learned

to be generally the most humble, and to be the most sensible of their

own ignorance. Men, in the course of their studies, daily find something

new. Every thing new shews them only their former ignorance, and how

much there is yet to learn. The more they persevere, in their

researches, the more they acknowledge the latter fact. The longer they

live, the more they lament the shortness of life, during which, man with

all his industry, can attain so little, and that, when he is but just

beginning to know, he is cut off. They see, in short, their own

nothingness, and, however they may be superior in their attainments,

they are convinced that their knowledge is, after all, but a shadow;

that it is but darkness; that it is but the absence of light; and that

it no sooner begins to assume an appearance than it is gone.

The last general argument against learning is, that it does not lead to

morality, or that learned men do not always exhibit an example of the

best character. In answer to this I must observe, that the natural

tendency of learning is to virtue. If learned men are not virtuous, I

presume their conduct is an exception to the general effect of knowledge

upon the mind. That there are, however, persons of such unnatural

character, I must confess. But any deficiency in their example is not to

be attributed to their learning. It is to be set down, on the other

hand, to the morally defective education they have received. They have

not been accustomed to wise restraints. More pains have been taken to

give them knowledge, than to instruct them in religion. But where an

education has been bestowed upon persons, in which their morals have

been duly attended to, where has knowledge been found to be at variance,

or rather where has it not been found to be in union, with virtue? Of

this union the Quakers can trace some of the brightest examples in their

own society. Where did knowledge, for instance, separate herself from

religion in Barclay, or in Penn, or in Burroughs, or in Pennington, or

in Ellwood, or in Arscott, or in Claridge, or in many others who might

be named. And as this has been the case in the Quaker society, where a

due care has been taken of morals, so it has been the case where a

similar care has been manifested in the great society of the world.

"Piety has found

Friends In the friends of Science, and true pray'r

Has flow'd from lips wet with Castalian dews.

Such was thy wisdom, Newton, childlike sage!

Sagacious reader of the works of God,

And in his word sagacious. Such too thine,

Milton, whose genius had angelic wings,

And fed on manna. And such thine, in whom

Our British Themis gloried with just cause,

Immortal Hale! for deep discernment prais'd

And sound integrity not more, than fam'd

For sanctity of manners undefil'd." Cowper.

It appears then, if I have reasoned properly, that the arguments usually

adduced against the acquisition of human knowledge are but of little

weight. If I have reasoned falsely upon this subject, so have the early

Quakers. As they were friends to virtue, so they were friends to

science. If they have at any time put a low estimate upon the latter, it

has been only as a qualification for a minister of the Gospel. Here they

have made a stand. Here they have made a discrimination. But I believe

it will no where be found, that they have denied, either that learning

might contribute to the innocent pleasures of life, or that it might be

made a subordinate and auxiliary instrument towards the promotion of

virtue.

CHAP. VII.

_Conclusion of the work--Conclusionary remarks divided into two

kinds--First, as they relate to those who may have had thoughts of

leaving the society--Advantages, which these may have proposed to

themselves by such a change--These advantages either religious or

temporal--The value of them considered._

Having now gone through all the subjects, which I had prescribed to

myself at the beginning of this work, I purpose to close it. But as it

should be the wish of every author to render his production useful, I

shall add a few observations for this purpose. My remarks then, which

will be thus conclusory, relate to two different sorts of persons. They

will relate, first, to those who may have had thoughts of leaving the

society, or, which is the same thing, who persist in a course of

irregularities, knowing beforehand, and not regretting it, that they

shall be eventually disowned. It will relate, secondly, to all other

persons, or to those who may be called the world. To the former I shall

confine my attention in this chapter.

I have often heard persons of great respectability, and these even in

the higher circles of life, express a wish, that they had been brought

up as Quakers. The steady and quiet deportment of the members of this

society, the ease with which they appear to get through life, the

simplicity and morality of their character, were the causes which

produced the expression of such a wish. "But why then, I have observed,

if you feel such a disposition as this wish indicates, do you not become

Quakers?" "Because, it has been replied, we are too old to be singular.

Dressing with sufficient simplicity ourselves, we see no good reason for

adopting the dress of the society. It would be as foolish in us to

change the colour and fashion of our clothing, as it would be criminal

in the Quakers, with their notions, to come to the use of that which

belongs to us. Endeavouring also to be chaste in our conversation, we

cannot adopt their language. It would be as inconsistent in us to speak

after the manner of the Quakers, as it would be inconsistent in them to

leave their own language for ours. But we wish we had been born Quakers.

And, if we had been born Quakers, we would never have deserted the

society."

Perhaps they to whom I shall confine my remarks in this chapter, are not

aware, that such sentiments as these are floating in the minds of many.

They are not aware, that it is considered as one of the strongest things

for those who have been born in the society, and been accustomed to its

particularities, to leave it. And least of all are they aware of the

worthless motives, which the world attributes to them for an intended

separation from it.

There is, indeed, something seemingly irreconcileable in the thought of

such a dereliction or change. To leave the society of a moral people,

can it be a matter of any credit? To diminish the number of those who

protest against war, and who have none of the guilt upon their heads of

the sanguinary progress of human destruction which is going on in the

world, is it desirable, or rather, ought it not to be a matter of

regret? And to leave it at a time, when its difficulties are over, is it

a proof of a wise and a prudent choice? If persons had ever had it in

contemplation to leave the society in its most difficult and trying

times, or in the days of its persecution, when only for the adoption of

innocent singularities its members were insulted, and beaten, and

bruised, and put in danger of their lives, it had been no matter of

surprise: but to leave it, when all prejudices against them are

gradually decreasing, when they are rising in respectability in the eyes

of the government under which they live, and when, by the weight of

their own usefulness and character, they are growing in the esteem of

the world, is surely a matter of wonder, and for which it is difficult

to account.

This brings me to the point in question, or to the examination of those

arguments, which may at times have come into the heads of those who have

had thoughts of ceasing to be members of this society.

In endeavouring to discover these, we can only suppose them to be

actuated by one motive, for no other will be reasonable, namely, that

they shall derive advantages from the change. Now all advantages are

resolvable into two kinds, into such as are religious, and into such as

are temporal. The first question then is, what advantages do they gain

in the former case, or do they actually come into the possession of a

better religion?

I am aware that to enter into this subject, though but briefly, is an

odious task. But I shall abstain from all comparisons, by which I might

offend any. If I were to be asked which, among the many systems of the

Christian religion, I should prefer, I should say, that I see in all of

them much to admire, but that no one of them, perhaps, does wholly, or

in every part of it, please me; that is, there is no one, in which I do

not see some little difficulty, which I cannot solve, though this is no

impediment to my faith. But, if I were pressed more particularly upon

this point, I should give the following answer. I should say, that I

should prefer that, which, first of all, would solve the greatest number

of difficulties, as far as scriptural texts were concerned, in

conformity with the Divine attributes, which, secondly, would afford the

most encouraging and consolatory creed, if it were equally well founded

with any other; and which, thirdly, either by its own operation, or by

the administration of it, would produce the post perfect Christian

character. Let us then judge of the religion of the Quakers by this

standard.

That there are difficulties with respect to texts of scripture, must be

admitted; for if all men were to understand them alike, there would be

but one profession of the Christian religion. One man endeavours to make

his system comport wholly with human reason, and the consequence is,

that texts constantly stare him in the face, which militate against it.

Another discards reason, with a determination to abide literally by

that, which is revealed, and the consequence is, that, in his literal

interpretation of some passages, he leaves others wholly irreconcileable

with his scheme. Now the religion, of the Quakers has been explained,

and this extensively. In its doctrinal parts it is simple. It is

spiritual. It unites often philosophy with revelation. It explains a

great number of the difficult texts with clearness and consistency. That

it explains all of them I will not aver. But these which it does

explain, it explains in the strictest harmony with the love, goodness,

justice, mercy, and wisdom of God.

As to the creed of the Quakers, we have seen its effects. We have seen

it to be both encouraging and consolatory. We have seen it produce

happiness in life, and courage in death. The doctrine of the possibility

of human perfection, where it is believed, must be a perpetual stimulus

to virtue, it must encourage hope and banish fear. But it may be said,

that stimulative and consolatory as it may be, it wants one of the marks

which I have insisted upon, namely, a sound foundation. But surely they,

who deny it, will have as many scriptural texts against them as they who

acknowledge it, and will they not be rendering their own spiritual

situation perilous? But what do the Quakers mean by perfection? Not the

perfection of God, to which there are no limits, as has been before

explained, but that which arises to man from the possibility of keeping

the divine commands. They mean that perfection, such as Noah, and Job,

and Zacharias, and Elizabeth, attained, and which the Jewish rabbies

distinguished by the name of Redemption, and which they conceived to be

effected by the influence of the Holy Spirit, or that state of man in

Christian morals, which, if he arrives at it, the Divine Being (outward

redemption having taken place by the sacrifice of Christ) is pleased to

accept as sufficient, or as the most pure state at which man, under the

disadvantages of the frailty of his nature, can arrive. And is not this

the practicable perfection, which Jesus himself taught in these words,

"Be ye perfect, even as your Father, which is in heaven is perfect." Not

that he supposed it possible, that any human being could be as perfect

as the Divine Nature. But he proposed, by these expressions, the highest

conceivable model of human excellence, of which our natures were

capable, well knowing that the higher our aspirations the higher we

should ascend, and the sooner we should reach that best state of

humanity that was attainable. And here it is, that Christianity, as a

rule of moral conduct, surpasses all others. Men, in general, look up to

men for models. Thus Homer makes one of his heroes, when giving counsel

to his son, say, "Always emulate the best." Thus also we should say to

our children, if a person of extraordinary character were to live in our

neighbourhood, "This is the pattern for your virture." But Jesus Christ

says, aim at perfection beyond that which is human, alluding to the

attributes of God, and thus you will attain a higher excellence than the

study of any other model can produce.

With respect to the formation of man according to the model which

Christianity prescribes, the system of the Quakers is no where to be

excelled. No one, that we know of, is more powerful in the production of

a subjugated mind and of a moral character. By this I mean, that there

is none which is more universally powerful. It is the tendency of

Christianity, whatever denomination it may assume, to produce these

effects. But there is full as general an appearance of these among the

Quakers, as in any other Christian profession.

It will appear then, that, if the three criterions, which have been

specified, should be admitted to be those by which a judgment may be

formed in the present case, they, who have had thoughts of leaving the

society, will not be much better off by an exchange of their religion.

Let us see next, what would be the greater temporal advantages, which

they would obtain. These may be summed up in two essential ingredients

of happiness, in tranquillity of mind, in consequence of which we pass

through the troubles of life in the most placid manner, and in a

moderate pecuniary independence, in consequence of which we know none of

the wants and hardships, but enjoy the reasonable comforts of it.

With respect to tranquillity of mind, we have shown this to be

constitutional with the Quakers. It arises from their domestic

enjoyments, from seldom placing their pleasures or their fortunes in the

power of others, from freedom from the ambition and envyings of the

world, from the regulation of the temper, from avoiding quarrels and

lawsuits, and from other causes. And with respect to a moderate

pecuniary independence, we have shewn not only that this is the general

portion of the society, but that it is in the very nature of their

habits to acquire it. Now these essential ingredients of happiness, or

these temporal advantages, do not belong to the present Quakers only.

They have always belonged to Quakers; and they will be perpetuated as an

inheritance to their children, as long as Quakerism lasts. By this I

mean to say, that if any Quakers, now living, could be sure that their

descendants would keep to the wholesome regulations of the society for

ten generations to come, they might have the comfort of believing, that

tranquillity of mind would accompany them, as an effect of the laws and

constitution belonging it, and that at any rate an easy pecuniary

situation in life would be preserved to them. For if it be no difficult

thing, with the natural habits of the society, to acquire an

independence, it is much easier to preserve that which has been left

them. But will they, who have had it in contemplation to leave the

society, be able to say this for their children, when they adopt the

world for their home? What certainty is there, that these will

experience tranquillity, unless they are seen, quite as far as manhood,

in the habits of religion? Will the cares of the world, its ambition,

its thirst after honours, and its unbridled affections and passions,

give them no uneasiness? And can the fortunes transmitted to them,

subject as they will be to its destructive fashions and pleasures, be

insured to them for even half of their times? How many have we seen, who

have been in the prime of health in the morning, who have fallen before

night in the duel? And how many have we seen in a state of affluence at

night, who have been ruined by gaming in the morning?

But it is possible that they, who may have had thoughts of leaving the

society; may picture to themselves another advantage, which I have not

yet mentioned. It is possible, that there may be yet one which they may

distinguish by such a name. They may possibly think it to be a gain to

get rid of the restraint of the discipline of the society, and to enjoy

the freedom of the world.

That the discipline is a restraint, I do not deny. But it must never be

forgotten, that its object is moral good, and its effect the

preservation of a moral character. But, come you, who complain of this

heavy burden imposed upon you, and let us converse together for a

moment, and let us see, if, when you relinquish it, you do not impose

upon yourself a worse. Are you sure that, when you get rid of this

discipline, you will not come under the discipline of fashion? And who

is Fashion? Is she not of all mistresses the most imperious, and

unreasonable, and cruel? You may be pleased with her for a while, but

you will eventually feel her chains. With her iron whip, brandished over

your head, she will issue out her commands, and you must obey them. She

will drive you, without mercy, through all her corruptive customs, and

through all her chameleon changes, and this against your judgment and

against your will. Do you keep an equipage? You must alter the very

shape of your carriage, if she prescribes it. Is the livery of your

postilion plain? You must make it of as many colours as she dictates. If

you yourself wear corbeau or raven colour to-day, you must change it, if

she orders you, to that of puce, or the flea, to-morrow. But it is not

only, in your equipage and your dress, that she will put you under her

control. She will make you obedient to her in your address and manners.

She will force upon you rules for your intercourse with others. She will

point out to you her amusements, and make you follow them. She will

place you under her cruel laws of honour, from which she will disown

you, if you swerve. Now I beseech you, tell me, which you think you

would prefer, the discipline of the goddess Fashion, or that of the good

old mistress, which you may have wished to leave? The one kindly points

out to you, and invites and warns you to avoid, every dangerous

precipice, that may be before you. The other is not satisfied, but with

your destruction. She will force you, for a single word, uttered in a

thoughtless moment, to run the hazard of your life, or to lose what she

calls your character. The one, by preserving you in innocence, preserves

you happy. The greater your obedience to her, the greater is your

freedom; and it is the best species of freedom, because it is freedom

from the pollutions of the world. The other awakens your conscience, and

calls out its stings. The more obedient you are to her, the greater is

your slavery, and it is the worst species of slavery, because it is

often slavery to vice. In consequence of the freedom which the one

bestows upon you, you are made capable of enjoying nature and its

various beauties, and by the contemplation of these, of partaking of an

endless feast. In consequence of the freedom which the one bestows upon

you, you are made capable of enjoying nature, and its various beauties,

and, by the contemplation, of these, of partaking of an endless feast.

In consequence of the slavery to which the other reduces you, you are

cramped as to such enjoyments. By accustoming you to be pleased with

ridiculous and corruptive objects, and silly and corruptive changes, she

confines your relish to worthless things. She palsies your vision, and

she corrupts your taste. You see nature before you, and you can take no

pleasure in it. Thus she unfits you for the most rational of the

enjoyments of the world, in which you are designed to live.

CHAP. VIII.

_Conclusory remarks, as they relate to those who compose the world at

large--Advantages, which these may derive from the contents of this

work--from a view of many of the customs--and of the principles

explained in it--from seeing practically the influence of these customs

and principles in the production of character and happiness--and from

seeing the manner of their operation, or how they produce the effects

described._

I shall now endeavour to make my conclusory remarks useful as they may

relate to those who may be called the world.

To state the object, which I have in view, I shall observe at once, that

men are divided in opinion as to the lawfulness, or expediency, or

wholesomeness of many of the customs, fashions, and accomplishments of

the world. We find some encouraging in their families, and this without

any hesitation, and to an almost unlimited extent, those which many, on

account of religious considerations, have expelled. We find others again

endeavouring to steer a course between the opinions and practice of

these. The same diversity of sentiment prevails also with respect to

principles. The virtuous or moral are adopted by some. The political by

others. That the political often obtain both in education and in

subsequent life, there is no question. Thus, for example, a young man is

thought by some to be more likely to make his way in the world with the

address which fashionable accomplishments may give him, even if he be a

little dissipated, than one of strict virtue with unpolished manners.

Thus again in actions and transactions, policy is often preferred to

express and open declarations of the truth. Others again are of opinion,

that the general basis of principle should be virtue, but that a

latitude may be, allowed for a seasonable policy. Thus an education is

going on under Christian parents, as if Christianity had objects in

view, which were totally opposite to each other.

It is in this point of view chiefly, that I can hope to be useful in

this conclusory part of my work. We have seen in the course of it both

customs and principles laid open and explained. We have seen the

tendencies and bearings of these. We have seen them probed, and examined

by a moral standard. We have seen their influence on character and

happiness. We have seen the manner in which they act, or how these

effects are produced. A revision therefore of these cannot but be

useful, but more particularly to parents, as it may enable some of

these, in conjunction with the knowledge they possess, to form probably

a more correct system than they may have had it in contemplation to

adopt, for the education of their youth.

The first advantage then, which those who compose the world at large may

derive from the contents of this work, will be from a review of some of

the customs which have been censured in it.

In looking into customs, the first that obtrudes itself upon our notice,

is that of allowing to children those amusements, which, on account of

the use of them, may be called gaming. A view is offered to us here,

which is divested of all superstition. It is no where contended at

random, in speaking against these, that their origin is objectionable.

It is no where insisted upon, that there is evil in them considered

abstractedly by themselves, or that they may not be used innocently, or

that they may not be made the occasion of innocent mirth. The evil is

candidly stated to arise from their abuse. The nature of this evil is

unfolded. Thus the malevolent passions, such as anger, envy, hatred,

revenge, and even avarice, are stirred up, where they should be

particularly prevented, in the youthful breast. A spirit of gaming,

which may be destructive of fortune, health, and morals, is engendered.

A waste of time[56] is occasioned, inasmuch as other pursuits might be

followed, which would be equally amusing, but conducive to the

improvement of the mind. The nature of the abuse is unfolded likewise.

It consists of making games of chance productive of loss and gain. Thus

they hold up speedy pecuniary acquisitions, and speedy repairs of

misfortune. Thus they excite hope and fear, and give birth to pain and

disappointment. The prevention also of the abuse, and that alone which

can be effectual, is pointed out. This consists of a separation of

emolument from chance, or of the adoption of the maxim, that no youth

ought to be permitted to lay a wager, or to reap advantage from any

doubtful event by a previous agreement on a moneyed stake. Now if the

reader be not disposed to go the length which the Quakers do, by the

abolition of such amusements, he will at least have had the advantage of

seeing that there may be evil in them, and where it lies, and the

extent (if he will only look at the historical instances cited) to which

it may proceed, and its infallible prevention or its cure.

[Footnote 56: This argument is usually applied to grown up people, but

may be applicable to youth, when we consider the ingenious inventions of

modern times, such as maps of dissected geography, historical and other

games, which, while they afford pleasure, promote improvement.]

The next subject which offers itself to our view, is music, and this

comes before us in two forms, either as it is instrumental or vocal.

With respect to instrumental, it is no where insisted upon that its

origin is evil, or that it is not productive of a natural delight, or

that it does not soothe and tranquilize the passions, or that it may not

be innocently used, or that it may not be made, under limitations, a

cheerful companion in solitude. But it is urged against it, that it does

not tend, like many other studies, to the improvement of the mind; that

it affords no solid ground of comfort either in solitude or affliction;

that it is a sensual gratification; and that sensual gratifications, if

indulged in leisure hours, take up the time which should be devoted to

those of a higher nature, that is, intellectual and moral pursuits. It

is urged against it again, that, if abused, it is chargeable with a

criminal waste of time, and a criminal impairing of health; that this

abuse, in consequence of proficiency being insisted upon (without which

it ceases to be delightful) is at the present day almost inseparable

from its use; and that where the abuse of a thing, either in consequence

of fashion, or its own seductive nature, or any other cause, is either

necessarily or very generally connected with the use of it, watchfulness

to avoid it is as much a duty in Christian morals, as it is a duty

against the common dangers of life.

On vocal again we observe a proper distinction attempted. We find, that

the singing is no more criminal than the reading of a song, being but

another mode of expressing it, and that, the morality of it therefore

will depend upon the words and sentiments it contains. If these are

indelicate, or unchaste, or hold out false and corruptive ideas, as has

been shewn to be the case with a variety of songs, then singing may from

an innocent become a vicious amusement. But it has been observed, that

youth seldom make any discrimination or selection with respect to songs,

but that they pick up all that come in their way, whatever may be the

impropriety of the words or sentiments, which they may contain.

Now then, whether we speak of instrumental or vocal music, if the reader

should not be willing totally to discard this science as the Quakers

do, he will at least have learnt some good from the observation which

the work will have held out to him on this subject. He will see that

evil may unquestionably be produced by the cultivation of it. He will

see the absolute necessity of guarding his children against the learning

of it to professional precision, as it is now unfortunately taught, to

the detriment of their health, and of the acquisition of more important

knowledge. He will see also the necessity of great vigilance with

respect to the purity of the words and sentiments which may be connected

with it.

The important subject, which is brought next before us, is that of the

theatre. Here we are taught, that, though dramatic pieces had no

censurable origin, the best of the ancient moralists condemned them. We

are taught, that, even in the most favourable light in which we can view

them, they have been thought objectionable, that is, that where they

have pretended to teach morality, they have inculcated rather the

refined virtue of heathenism, than the strict though mild morality of

the Gospel; and where they have attempted to extirpate vice, they have

done it rather by making it appear ridiculous, than by teaching men to

avoid it as evil, or for the love of virtue. We are taught, that, as it

is our duty to love our neighbour, and to be solicitous for his

spiritual welfare, we ought not, under a system which requires

simplicity and truth, to encourage him to be what he is not, or to

personate a character which is not his own. We are taught that it is the

general tendency of the diversions of the stage, by holding out false

morals and prospects, to weaken the sinews of morality; by disqualifying

for domestic enjoyments, to wean from a love of home; by accustoming to

light thoughts and violent excitement of the passions, to unfit for the

pleasures of religion. We are taught that diversions of this nature

particularly fascinate, and that, if they fascinate, they suggest

repetitions. And finally we are taught, that the early Christians on

their conversion, though before this time they had followed them as

among the desirable pleasures of their lives, relinquished them on the

principles now explained.

The next subject, which comes to us in order, is dancing. This is handed

down to us, under two appearances, either as it is simple, or as it is

connected with preparations and accompaniments.

In viewing it in its simple state, it is no where contended, if it be

encouraged on the principle of promoting such an harmonious carriage of

the body, or use of the limbs, as maybe more promotive of health, that

it is objectionable, though it is supposed that it is not necessary for

such purposes, and that, without music and its other usual

accompaniments, it would not be pleasant. Neither is it contended that a

simple dance upon the green, if it were to arise suddenly and without

its usual preparations, may not be innocent, or that if may not be

classed with an innocent game at play, or with innocent exercise in the

fields, though it is considered, that it would hardly be worthy of those

of riper years, because they who are acknowledged to have come to the

stature of men, are expected to abandon amusements for pursuits of

usefulness, and particularly where they make any profession of the

Christian name.

In viewing it with its preparations, and with its subsequent

accompaniments, as usually displayed in the ball-room, we see it in a

less favourable light. We see it productive, where it is habitually

resorted to, of a frivolous levity, of vanity and pride, and of a

littleness of mind and character. We see it also frequently becoming the

occasion of the excitement of the malevolent passions, such as anger,

envy, hatred, jealousy, malice, and revenge. We find it also frequently

leading to[57] indisposition. We find lastly, that, in consequence of

the vexation of mind, which may arise from a variety of causes, but more

particularly from disappointment and the ascendency of some of the

passions that have been mentioned, more pleasure is generally perceived

in the anticipation of these amusements, than in the actual taste or use

of them.

[Footnote 57: Not only colds, head-aches, and a general lassitude, ore

the result Of dancing in ball-rooms, but occasionally serious

indisposition. I have known the death of two young persons attributed to

it by the physicians who attended them in their illness.]

The subject of novels is presented next to our view. And here it has

appeared, that no objection can be truly adduced against these on

account of the fictitious nature of their contents. Novels also are not

all of them promiscuously condemned. It is contended, however, from a

variety of causes which were shewn, that they are very generally

censurable. We are taught again, that the direct tendency of those which

are censurable is to produce conceit and affectation, a romantic spirit,

and a perverted morality among youth. We are taught again, that, on

account of the peculiar construction of these, inasmuch as they have

plot and character like dramatic compositions, they fascinate, and this

to such a degree, that youth wait for no selection, but devour

promiscuously all that come in their way. Hence the conclusion is, that

the effects, alleged against novels, cannot but be generally produced.

We are presented also with this fact, that, on account of the high

seasoning and gross stimulants they contain, all other writings, however

useful, become insipid. Hence the novel reader, by becoming indisposed

to the perusal of more valuable books, excludes himself from the

opportunity of moral improvement, and, if immoral sentiments are

contracted, from the chance of any artificial corrective or cure.

The diversions of the field offer themselves next to our notice. We are

taught, on the discussion which has arisen on this subject, that we are

not permitted to take away the lives of animals wantonly but only as

they may be useful for food, or as they may be dangerous to ourselves

and to the other animals which may belong to us, and that a condition is

annexed to the original grant or charter, by which permission was given

to kill, which is never to be dispensed with, or, in other words, that

we are to take away their lives as speedily as we can. Hence rights have

sprung up on the part of animals, and duties on the part of men, any

breach of which is the violation of a moral law. Hence the diversions of

the field become often objectionable, because life is not thus taken

away as speedily as it might otherwise have been, and because food or

noxiousness is not often the object of the destruction of animals, but

mere pleasure or sport. We are taught also to consider animals, not as

mere machines, but as the creatures of God. We are taught also, that as

they were designed to have their proper share of happiness during the

time of their existence, any wanton interruption of this is an

innovation of their rights as living beings. And we are taught finally,

that the organic nature of men and animals being the same, as far as a

feeling of pain is concerned, the sympathy which belongs to our nature,

and the divine law of doing as we would be done by, which will hold as

far as we can enter into the perceptions either of man or brutes, impose

upon us the duty of anticipating their feelings, and of treating them in

a corresponding or tender manner.

If we take a view of other customs, into which the Quakers have thought

it right to introduce regulations with a view of keeping their members

pure and innocent, we learn other lessons of usefulness. Thus, for

example, the reader, if he does not choose to adopt their dress, may

obtain desirable knowledge upon this subject. He will see that the two

great objects of dress are decency and comfort. He will see, though

Christianity prescribes neither colour nor shape for the clothing, that

it is not indifferent about it. It enjoins simplicity and plainness,

because, where men pay an undue attention to the exterior, they are in

danger of injuring the dignity of their minds. It discards ornaments

from the use of apparel, because these, by puffing up the creature, may

be productive of vanity and pride. It forbids all unreasonable changes

on the plea of conformity with fashion, because the following of fashion

begets a worldly spirit, and because, in proportion as men indulge this

spirit, they are found to follow the loose and changeable morality of

the world, instead of the strict and steady morality of the Gospel.

On the subject of language, though the reader may be unwilling to adopt

all the singularities of the Quakers, he may collect a lesson that may

be useful to him in life. He may discover the necessity of abstaining

from all expressions of flattery, because the use of these may be

morally injurious to himself by abridging the independence of his mind,

and by promoting superstition; while it may be injurious to others, by

occasioning them to think more highly of themselves than they ought, and

more degradingly of their fellow-creatures. He may discover also the

necessity of adhering to the truth in all expressions, whether in his

conversation or in his letters; that there is always a consistency in

truth, and an inconsistency in falsehood; that as expressions accord

with the essences, qualities, properties and characters of things, they

are more or less proper; and that an attempt to adhere to the truth is

productive of moral good, while a departure from it may lead into error,

independently of its injury as a moral evil.

With respect to the address, or the complimentary gestures or ceremonies

of the world, if he be not inclined to reject them totally as the

Quakers do, he may find that there may be unquestionably evil in them,

if they are to be adjudged by the purity of the Christian system. He may

perceive, that there may be as much flattery and as great a violation of

truth through the medium of the body, as through the medium of the

tongue, and that the same mental degradation, or toss of dignified

independence of mind, may insensibly follow.

On the subject of conversation and manners, he may learn the propriety

of caution as to the use of idle words; of abstaining from scandal and

detraction; of withholding his assent to customs when started, however

fashionable, if immoral; of making himself useful by the dignity of the

topic he introduces, and by the decorum with which he handles it; of

never allowing his sprightliness to border upon folly, or his wit upon

lewdness, but to clothe all his remarks in an innocent and a simple

manner.

From the subject of customs connected with meals, such as that, for

example, of saying grace, he may team that this is a devotional act;

that it is not to be said as a mere ceremony, by thanking the Supreme

Being in so many words while the thoughts are roving on other subjects,

but that it should be said with seriousness and feeling, and that it

should never come as an oblation from the tongue, except it come also

an oblation from the heart. And on that which relates to the drinking of

toasts, he may see the moral necessity of an immediate extirpation of

it. He may see that this custom has not one useful or laudable end in

view; that it is a direct imitation of Pagans in the worst way in which

we can follow them--their enjoyment of sensual pleasures; that it leads

directly and almost inevitably to drunkenness, and of course to the

degradation of the rational and moral character.

A second advantage, which they who compose the world may derive on this

occasion, will be seen from a recapitulation of some of the principles

which the work contains. The advantage in question will chiefly consist

in this, that, whatever these principles may be, they may be said to be

such as have been adopted by a moral people, and this after serious

deliberation, and solely on a religious ground. It is of great

importance from whence principles come recommended to our notice. If

they come from the inconsiderate and worthless, they lose their value.

If from the sober and religious, we receive them under the impression,

that they may be promotive of our good. I shall give therefore a summary

of these, as they may be collected from the work.

God has imparted to men a portion of his own Spirit, though he has

given it to them indifferent degrees. Without this Spirit it would be

impossible for them to discern spiritual things. Without this it would

be impossible for them to know spiritually, even that the Scriptures

were of divine authority, or spiritually to understand them. This Spirit

performs its office of a teacher by internal monitions, and, if

encouraged, even by the external objects of creation. It is also a

primary and infallible guide. It is given to all without exception. It

is given to all sufficiently. They who resist it, quench it, and this to

their own condemnation. They who encourage it receive it more

abundantly, and are in the way of salvation and redemption. This Spirit

therefore becomes a Redeemer also. Redemption may he considered in two

points of view, as it is either by outward or inward means, or as it

relates to past sins or to sins to come. Jesus Christ effected

redemption of the first kind, or that from past sins, while he was

personally upon earth, by the sacrifice of himself. But it is this

Spirit, or Christ within, as the Quakers call it, which effects the

latter, or which preserves from future transgressions. It is this Spirit

which leads, by means of its inward workings, to a new birth, and

finally to the highest perfection of which our nature is capable. In

this office of an inward Redeemer, it visits all, so that all may be

saved, if they will attend to its saving operations, God being not

willing that any should perish, but that all should inherit eternal

life.

This Spirit also qualifies men for the ministry. It qualifies women also

for this office as well as men. It dictates the true season for silence,

and the true season for utterance, both in public and private worship.

Jesus Christ was man because he took flesh, and inhabited the body which

had been prepared for him; but he was Divinity, because he was the Word.

A resurrection will be effected, but not of the body as it is. Rewards

and punishments will follow, but guilt will not be imputed to men till

they have actually committed sin.

Baptism and the Lord's Supper are essentials of the Christian religion.

They are not, however, essentials as outward ordinances, but only as

they are administered by the Holy Spirit.

Civil government is for the protection of virtue and for the removal of

vice. Obedience should be paid to all its laws, where the conscience is

not violated in doing it. To defraud it in any manner of its revenues,

or to take up arms on any consideration against it, is unlawful. But if

men cannot conscientiously submit to any one or more of its ordinances,

they are not to temporize, but to obey Jesus Christ rather than their

own governors in this particular case. They are, however, to be willing

to submit to all the penalties which the latter may inflict upon them

for so doing. And as no Christian ought to temporize in the case of any

laws enjoined him by the government under which he lives, so neither

ought he to do it in the case of any of the customs or fashions, which

may be enjoined him by the world.

All civil oaths are forbidden in Christianity. The word of every

Christian should be equivalent to his oath.

It is not lawful to return evil for evil, nor to shed the blood of man.

All wars are forbidden.

It is more honourable, and more consistent with the genius and spirit of

Christianity, and the practice of Jesus Christ and of his Apostles, and

of the primitive Christians, that men should preach the Gospel freely,

than that they should live by it, as by a profession or by a trade.

All men are brethren by creation. Christianity makes no difference in

this respect between Jew and Gentile, Greek and Barbarian, bond and

free. No geographical boundaries, nor colour of the skin or person, nor

difference of religious sentiment, can dissolve this relationship

between them.

All men are born equal with respect to privileges. But as they fall into

different situations and ranks of life, they become distinguished. In

Christianity, however, there is no respect of persons, or no distinction

of them, but by their virtue. Nobility and riches can never confer

worth, nor can poverty screen from a just appropriation of disgrace.

Man is a temple in which the Divinity may reside. He is therefore to be

looked upon and treated with due respect. No Christian ought to lower

his dignity, or to suffer him, if he can help it, to become the

instrument of his own degradation.

Man is a being, for whose spiritual welfare every Christian should be

solicitous, and a creature therefore worthy of all the pains that can be

bestowed upon him for the preservation of his moral character.

The first object in the education of man should be the proper

subjugation of his will.

No man ought to be persecuted or evil spoken of for a difference in

religious opinion. Nor is detraction or slander allowable in any case.

Every religious community should consider the poor belonging to it as

members of the same family, for whose wants and comforts it is a duty

to provide. The education also of the children of these should be

provided for.

It is enjoined us to live in peace with all men. All quarrels therefore

are to be avoided between man and man. But if differences arise, they

are to be adjusted by arbitration, and not, except it be otherwise

impossible, by going to law, and never by violence.

If men offend against the laws, they should be prevented from doing

injuries in future, but never by the punishment of the loss of life. The

reformation of a criminal, which includes a prevention of a repetition

of such injuries, is the great object to be regarded in the

jurisprudence of Christians.

In political matters there is no safe reasoning but upon principle. No

man is to do evil that good may come. The policy of the Gospel is never

to be deserted, whatever may be the policy of the world.

Trade is an employment, by means of which we are permitted to gain a

livelihood. But all trades are not lawful. Men are responsible, as

Christians, for engaging in those which are immoral, or far continuing

in those which they may carry on either to the moral detriment of

themselves or of others. Abstinence from hazardous enterprises by the

failure of which innocent persons might be injured, and honesty in

dealing, and punctuality to words and engagements, are essentials in

the prosecution of trade.

Having made observations on the customs, and brought to the view of the

reader some of the prominent principles of the Quakers, a third

advantage will arise from knowing the kind of character, which these in

conjunction will produce.

On this subject we might be permitted our conjectures. We might insist

upon the nature and immediate tendencies of these customs and

principles, and we might draw our conclusions from thence, or we might

state how they were likely to operate, so as probably not to be far from

the truth. But we are spared both the trouble of such a task, and are

relieved from the fear of having the accuracy of our conclusions

doubted. The Quaker character has been made up from the acknowledgments

of others. It has been shewn that they are a moral people; that they are

sober, and inoffensive, and quiet; that they are benevolent to man in

his religious and temporal capacity; that they are kind or

tender-hearted to animals; that they do not make sacrifices of their

consciences to others; that in political affairs they reason upon

principle; that they are punctual to their words and engagements; and

that they have independence of mind, and courage. Their character, as it

is defective, has been explained also. It has been probed, and tried by

a proper touchstone. Appearances have been separated from realities. The

result has been, that a deficiency in literature and science, and that

superstition, and that an undue eagerness after money, has been fixed

upon a portion of them. The two former, however, it is to be

recollected, are only intellectually defective traits, and maybe

remedied by knowledge. The latter, it is to be presumed, belongs rather

to individuals than to the society at large. But whatever drawbacks may

be made from the perfect by the imperfect qualities that have been

stated, there is a great preponderancy on the side of virtue. And where,

when we consider the evil propensities of our nature, and the difficulty

of keeping these in due order, are we to took for a fairer character?

That men, as individuals, may be more perfect, both in and out of the

society, is not to be denied. But where shall we find them purer as a

body? and where shall we find a faulty character, where the remedy is

more easily at hand?

The next advantage will be in seeing the manner of the operation of

these customs and principles, or how they act. To go over the whole

character of the Quakers with this view would be both tedious and

unnecessary. I shall therefore only select one or two parts of it for my

purpose. And first, how do these customs and principles produce

benevolence? I reply thus: The Quakers, in consequence of their

prohibitions against all public amusements, have never seen man in the

capacity of a hired buffoon or mimic, or as a purchasable plaything.

Hence they have never viewed him in a low and degrading light. In

consequence of their tenet on war, they have never viewed him as an

enemy. In consequence of their disciplinary principles, they have viewed

him as an equal. Hence it appears, that they have no prejudices against

him from causes which often weigh with others, either on account of

rank, or station, or many of the customs of the world. Now I conceive,

that the dereliction of prejudice against man is as necessary, as a

first measure, to the production of benevolence towards him, as the

dereliction of vice towards the production of virtue. We see then their

minds free from bias on this subject. But what is there on the other

side to operate actively towards the promotion of this trait? They view

man, in the first place, as the temple in which the Divinity may reside.

This procures him respect. Secondly, as a being for whose spiritual

welfare they ought to be solicitous. This produces a concern for him.

And thirdly, as a brother. This produces relationship. We see then the

ground cleared. We see all noxious weeds extirpated. We see good seed

sown in their places; that is, we see prejudices removed from the heart,

and we see the ideas of respect, concern, and relationship implanted in

it. Now it is impossible that these ideas, under these circumstances,

should not as naturally and immediately produce a general benevolence to

man, as common seeds, when all obstructive weeds are removed, should

produce their corresponding saplings or flowers.

How again are these customs and principles of the Quakers promotive of

independence of mind? I answer thus: There is a natural independence of

mind in man, but it is often broken and weakened. Some men injure it by

the solicitation and acceptance of honours, and pensions, and places;

others by flattery and falsehood; others by customs of obeisance; others

by their obedience to fashion. But the independence of mind of the

Quakers is not stunted in its growth by the chiding blasts of such

circumstances and habits. It is invigorated, on the other hand, by their

own laws. No servility is allowed either in word or gesture. Neither

that which is written, nor that which is uttered, is to please the

vanity of the persons addressed, or to imply services never intended to

be performed. The knee is not to be bent to any one. It is strengthened

again and made to shoot by their own maxims. Is it possible to be in the

habit of viewing all men as equal in privileges, and no one as superior

to another but by his virtue, and not to feel a disposition that must

support it? Can the maxim of never doing evil that good may come, when

called into exercise, do otherwise than cherish it? And can reasoning

upon principle have any other effect than that of being promotive of

its growth?

These then are the ways in which these customs and principles operate.

Now the advantage to be derived from seeing this manner of their

operation, consists in this: First, that we know to a certainty, that

they act towards the production of virtue. Knowing again what these

customs and principles are, we know those which we are bound to cherish.

We find also, that there are various springs which act upon the moral

constitution for the formation of character. We find some of these great

and powerful, and others inferior. This consideration should teach us

not to despise even those which are the least, if they have but a

tendency to promote our purity. For if the effect of any of them be only

small, a number of effects of little causes or springs, when added

together, may be as considerable as a large one. Of these again we

observe, that some are to be round where many would hardly have expected

them. This consideration should make us careful to look into all our

customs and principles, that we may not overlook any one which we may

retain for our moral good. And as we learn the lesson of becoming

vigilant to discover every good spring, and not to neglect the least of

these, however subtle its operation, so we learn the necessity of

vigilance to detect every spring or cause, and this even the least,

whether in our customs or our principles, if it should in its tendency

be promotive of vice.

And in the same manner we may argue with respect to other productions of

these customs and principles of the Quakers. As we have seen the latter

lead to character, so we have seen them lead to happiness. The manner of

their operation to this end has been also equally discernible. As we

value them because they produce the one, so we should value them because

they produce the other. We have seen also which of them to value. And we

should be studious to cherish the very least of these, as we should be

careful to discard the least of those which are productive of real and

merited unhappiness to the mind.

And now, having expended my observations on the tendencies of the

customs and principles of the Quakers, I shall conclude by expressing a

wish, that the work which I have written may be useful. I have a wish,

that it may be useful to those who may be called the world, by giving

them an insight into many excellent institutions, of which they were

before ignorant, but which may be worthy of their support and their

patronage. I have a wish also, that it may be useful to the Quakers

themselves, first, by letting them see how their own character may be

yet improved; and secondly, by preserving them, in some measure, both

from unbecoming remarks, and from harsh usage, on the part of their

fellow-citizens of a different denomination from themselves. For surely

when it is known, as I hope it is by this time, that they have moral and

religious grounds for their particularities, we shall no longer hear

their scruples branded with the name of follies and obstinacies, or see

magistrates treating them with a needless severity, but giving[58] them,

on the other hand, all the indulgences they can, consistently with the

execution of the laws. In proportion as this utility is produced, my

design will be answered in the production of the work, and I shall

receive pleasure in having written it. And this pleasure will be subject

only to one drawback, which will unavoidably arise in the present case;

for I cannot but regret that I have not had more time to bestow upon it,

or that some other person has not appeared, who possessing an equal

knowledge of the Quakers with myself, but better qualified in other

respects, might have employed his talents more to the advantage of the

subjects upon which I have treated in these volumes.

[Footnote 58: Some magistrates, much to their honour, treat them with

tenderness; and no people are more forward than the Quakers in

acknowledging any attention that may be shewn them, but particularly

where their religious scruples may be concerned.]

END OF THE THIRD VOLUME