but rather causing men to forsake, the assembling of themselves together.-No answer. given by our author to the objections against the present mode of subscription, it now remains, by way of summing up the evidence, to bring "for-IV. That men are deterred from searching the ward" certain other arguments contained in the Considerations, to which no answer has been attempted. It is contended, then, II. That this experiment of leaving men at liber- Scriptures by the fear of finding there more or less than they look for; that is, something inconsistent with what they have already given their assent to, and must at their peril abide by. -No answer. V. That it is not giving truth a fair chance, to decide points at one certain time, and by one set of men, which had much better be left to the successive inquiries of different ages and different persons.-No answer. VI. That it tends to multiply infidels amongst us, by exhibiting Christianity under a form and in a system which many are disgusted with, who yet will not be at the pains to inquire after any other.-No answer. At the conclusion of his pamphlet, our author is pleased to acknowledge, what few, I find, care any longer to deny, "that there are some things in our Articles and Liturgy which he should be glad to see amended, many which he should be willing to give up to the scruples of others," but that the heat and violence with which redress has been pursued, preclude all hope of accommodation and tranquillity-that "we had better wait, therefore, for more peaceable times, and be contented with our present constitution as it is," until a fairer mistaking the church, in this last comparison, for one prospect shall appear of changing it for the better. of her monuments (which indeed, with most people of After returning thanks, in the name of the his complexion, stands for the same thing) erected to "fraternity," to him and to all who touch the burprevent our dispersion from that grand centre of cathoden of subscription with but one of their fingers, lic dominion, or, in the words of a late celebrated cas tle-builder, "to keep us together." If there be any indecency" in such a comparison, it must be chargeable on those who lead us to it, by making use of the same terms with the original architects, and to which the and indecency" of comparing our church to the Jewish in our Saviour's time, and even to the " tower of Babel;" author of the Considerations evidently alludes. This detached note is concluded with as detached, and no less curious, an observation, which the writer thinks may be a "sufficient answer" to the whole, namely, that the author of the Considerations" has wrought no miracles for the conviction of the answerer and his as sociates." For what purpose this observation can be "sufficient," it is not easy to guess, except it be designed to insinuate, what may perhaps really be the case, that no less than a miracle will serve to cast out that kind of spirit which has taken so full possession of them, or ever bring them to a sound mind, and a sin cere love of truth. I would wish to leave with them this observation, That as the man who attacks a flourishing establishment writes with a halter round his neck, few ever will be found to attempt alterations but men of more spirit than prudence, of more sincerity than caution, of warm, eager, and impetuous tempers; that, consequently, if we are to wait for improvement till the cool, the calm, the discreet part of mankind begin it, till church governors solicit, or ministers of state propose it-I will venture to pronounce, that (without His interposition with whom nothing is impossible) we may remain as we are till the "renovation of all things." REASONS FOR CONTENTMENT, ADDRESSED TO THE LABOURING PART OF THE BRITISH COMMUNITY. HUMAN life has been said to resemble the situa- | when we see exorbitant fortunes placed in the tion of spectators in a theatre, where, whilst each hands of single persons; larger, we are sure, than person is engaged by the scene which passes be- they can want, or, as we think, than they can use. fore him, no one thinks about the place in which This is so common a reflection, that I will not say he is seated. It is only when the business is in- it is not natural. But whenever the complaint terrupted, or when the spectator's attention to it comes into our minds, we ought to recollect, that grows idle and remiss, that he begins to consider the thing happens in consequence of those very at all, who is before him or who is behind him, rules and laws which secure to ourselves our prowhether others are better accommodated than perty, be it ever so small. The laws which accihimself, or whether many be not much worse. It dentally cast enormous estates into one great is thus with the various ranks and stations of so- man's possession, are, after all, the self-same laws ciety. So long as a man is intent upon the du- which protect and guard the poor man. Fixed ties and concerns of his own condition, he never rules of property are established for one as well thinks of comparing it with any other; he is an another, without knowing, before-hand, whom never troubled with reflections upon the different they may effect. If these rules sometimes throw classes and orders of mankind, the advantages and an excessive or disproportionate share to one man's disadvantages of each, the necessity or non-ne- lot, who can help it? It is much better that it cessity of civil distinctions, much less does he feel should be so, than that the rules themselves should within himself a disposition to covet or envy any be broken up; and you can only have one side of of them. He is too much taken up with the oc- the alternative or the other. To abolish_riches, cupations of his calling, its pursuits, cares, and would not be to abolish poverty; but, on the conbusiness, to bestow unprofitable meditations upon trary, to leave it without protection or resource. the circumstances in which he sees others placed. It is not for the poor man to repine at the effects And by this means a man of a sound and active of laws and rules, by which he himself is benemind has, in his very constitution, a remedy against fited every hour of his existence; which secures the disturbance of envy and discontent. These to him his earnings, his habitation, his bread, his passions gain no admittance into his breast, be- life; without which he, no more than the rich man, cause there is no leisure there or vacancy for the could either eat his meal in quietness, or go to bed trains of thought which generate them. He en-in safety. Of the two, it is rather more the conjoys, therefore, ease in this respect, and ease result-cern of the poor to stand up for the laws, than of ing from the best cause, the power of keeping his imagination at home; of confining it to what belongs to himself, instead of sending it forth to wander amongst speculations which have neither limits nor use, amidst views of unattainable grandeur, fancied happiness, of extolled, because un experienced, privileges and delights. The wisest advice that can be given is, never to allow our attention to dwell upon comparisons between our own condition and that of others, but to keep it fixed upon the duties and concerns of the condition itself. But since every man has not this power; since the minds of some men will be busy in contemplating the advantages which they see others possess; and since persons in laborious stations of life are wont to view the higher ranks of society, with sentiments which not only tend to make themselves unhappy, but which are very different from the truth; it may be an useful office to point out to them some of those considerations which, if they will turn their thoughts to the subject, they should endeavour to take fairly into the account. And, first; we are most of us apt to murmur, the rich; for it is the law which defends the weak against the strong, the humble against the powerful, the little against the great; and weak and strong, humble and powerful, little and great, there would be, even were there no laws whatever. Beside, what, after all, is the mischief? The owner of a great estate does not eat or drink more than the owner of a small one. His fields do not produce worse crops, nor does the produce maintain fewer mouths. If estates were more equally divided, would greater numbers be fed, or clothed, or employed? Either, therefore, large fortunes are not a public evil, or, if they be in any degree an evil, it is to be borne with, for the sake of those fixed and general rules concerning property, in the preservation and steadiness of which all are interested. Fortunes, however, of any kind, from the nature of the thing, can only fall to the lot of a few. I say, "from the nature of the thing." The very utmost that can be done by laws and government, is to enable every man, who hath health, to procure a healthy subsistence for himself and a family. Where this is the case, things are at their perfec tion. They have reached their limit. Were the princes and nobility, the legislators and counsellors of the land, all of them the best and wisest men that ever lived, their united virtue and wisdom could do no more than this. They, if any such there be, who would teach you to expect more, give you no instance where more has ever been attained. But Providence, which foresaw, which appointed, indeed, the necessity to which human affairs are subjected, (and against which it were impious to complain,) hath contrived, that, whilst fortunes are only for a few, the rest of mankind may be happy without them. And this leads me to consider the comparative advantages and comforts which belong to the condition of those who subsist, as the great mass of every people do and must subsist, by personal labour, and the solid reasons they have for contentment in their stations. I do not now use the terms poor and rich: because that man is to be accounted poor, of whatever rank he be, and suffers the pains of poverty, whose expenses exceed his resources; and no man is, properly speaking, poor but he. But I, at present, consider the advantages of those laborious conditions of life which compose the great portion of every human community. And, first; it is an inestimable blessing of such situations, that they supply a constant train of employment both to body and mind. A husbandman, or a manufacturer, or a tradesman, never goes to bed at night without having his business to rise up to in the morning. He would understand the value of this advantage, did he know that the want of it composes one of the greatest plagues of the human soul; a plague by which the rich, especially those who inherit riches, are exceedingly oppressed. Indeed it is to get rid of it, that is to say, it is to have something to do, that they are driven upon those strange and unaccountable ways of passing their time, in which we sometimes see them, to our surprise, engaged. A poor man's condition supplies him with that which no man can do without, and with which a rich man, with all his opportunities, and all his contrivance, can hardly supply himself; regular engagement, business to look forward to, something to be done for every day, some employment prepared for every morning. A few of better judgment can seek out for themselves constant and useful occupation. There is not one of you takes the pains in his calling, which some of the most independent men in the nation have taken, and are taking, to promote what they deem to be a point of great concern to the interests of humanity, by which neither they nor theirs can ever gain a shilling, and in which should they succeed, those who are to be benefited by their service, will neither know nor thank them for it. I only mention this to show, in conjunction with what has been observed above, that, of those who are at liberty to act as they please, the wise prove, and the foolish confess, by their conduct, that a life of employment is the only life worth leading; and that the chief difference between their manner of passing their time and yours, is, that they can choose the objects of their activity, which you cannot. This privilege may be an advantage to some, but for nine out of ten it is fortunate that occupation is provided to their hands, that they have it not to seek, that it is imposed upon them by their necessities and occasions; for the consequence of liberty in this re3 R spect would be, that, lost in the perplexity of choosing, they would sink into irrecoverable indolence, inaction, and unconcern; into that vacancy and tiresomeness of time and thought which are inseparable from such a situation. A man's thoughts must be going. Whilst he is awake, the working of his mind is as constant as the beating of his pulse. He can no more stop the one than the other. Hence if our thoughts have nothing to act upon, they act upon ourselves. They acquire a corrosive quality. They become in the last degree irksome and tormenting. Wherefore that sort of equitable engagement, which takes up the thoughts sufficiently, yet so as to leave them capable of turning to any thing more important, as occasions offer or require, is a most invaluable blessing. And if the industrious be not sensible of the blessing, it is for no other reason than because they have never experienced, or rather suffered the want of it. Again; some of the necessities which poverty (if the condition of the labouring part of mankind must be so called) imposes, are not hardships but pleasures. Frugality itself is a pleasure. It is an exercise of attention and contrivance, which, whenever it is successful, produces satisfaction. The very care and forecast that are necessary to keep expenses and earnings upon a level, form, when not embarrassed by too great difficulties, an agreeable engagement of the thoughts. This is lost amidst abundance. There is no pleasure in taking out of a large unmeasured fund. They who do that, and only that, are the mere conveyers of money from one hand to another. A yet more serious advantage which persons in inferior stations possess, is the ease with which they provide for their children. All the provision which a poor man's child requires, is contained in two words, "industry and innocence." With these qualities, though without a shilling to set him forwards, he goes into the world prepared to become an useful, virtuous, and happy man. Nor will he fail to meet with a maintenance adequate to the habits with which he has been brought up, and to the expectations which he has formed; a degree of success sufficient for a person of any condition whatever. These qualities of industry and innocence, which, I repeat again, are all that are absolutely necessary, every parent can give to his children without expense, because he can give them by his own authority and example; and they are to be communicated, I believe, and preserved, in no other way. I call this a serious advantage of humble stations; because in what we reckon superior ranks of life, there is a real difficulty in placing children in situations which may in any degree support them in the class and in the habits in which they have been brought up by their parents: from which great and oftentimes distressing perplexity the poor are free. With health of body, innocence of mind, and habits of industry, a poor man's child has nothing to be afraid of, nor his father or mother any thing to be afraid of for him. The labour of the world is carried on by service that is, by one man working under another man's direction. I take it for granted that this is the best way of conducting business, because all nations and ages have adopted it. Consequently service is the relation which, of all others, affects the greatest numbers of individuals, and in the most sensible manner. In whatever country, 42* therefore, this relation is well and equitably regu- | lated, in that country the poor will be happy. Now how is the matter managed with us? Except apprenticeships, the necessity of which every one, at least every father and mother, will acknowledge, as the best, if not the only practicable, way of gaining instruction and skill, and which have their foundation in nature, because they have their foundation in the natural ignorance and imbecility of youth; except these, service in England, is, as it ought to be, voluntary and by >contract; a fair exchange of work for wages; an equal bargain, in which each party has his rights and his redress; wherein every servant chooses his master. Can this be mended? I will add, that a continuance of this connexion is frequently the foundation of so much mutual kindness and attachment, that very few friendships are more cordial, or more sincere; that it leaves oftentimes nothing in servitude except the name; nor any distinction but what one party is as much pleased with, and sometimes also as proud of, as the other. What then (for this is the fair way of calculating) is there in higher stations to place against these advantages? What does the poor man see in the life or condition of the rich, that should render him dissatisfied with his own? Was there as much in sensual pleasures, I mean in the luxuries of eating and drinking, and other gratifications of that sort, as some men's imaginations would represent them to be, but which no man's experience finds in them, I contend, that even in these respects, the advantage is on the side of the poor The rich, who addict themselves to indulgence, lose their relish. Their desires are dead. Their sensibilities are worn and tired. Hence they lead a languid satiated existence. Hardly any thing can amuse, or rouse, or gratify them. Whereas the poor man, if some thing extraordinary fall in his way, comes to the repast with appetite; is pleased and refreshed; derives from his usual course of moderation and temperance a quickness of perception and delight which the unrestrained voluptuary knows nothing of. Habits of all kinds are much the same. Whatever is habitual, becomes smooth and indifferent, and nothing more. The luxurious receive no greater pleasures from their dainties, than the peasant docs from his homely fare.-But here is the difference: The peasant whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast, whereas the epicure must be sumptuously entertained to escape disgust. They who spend every day in diversions, and they who go every day about their usual business, pass their time much alike. Attending to what they are about, wanting nothing, regretting nothing, they are both, whilst engaged, in a state of ease; but then, whatever suspends the pursuits of the man of diversion, distresses him, whereas to the labourer, or the man of business, every pause is a recreation. And this is a vast advantage which they possess who are trained and inured to a life of occupation, above the man who sets up for a life of pleasure. Variety is soon exhausted. Novelty itself is no longer new. Amusements are become too familar to delight, and he is in a situation in which he can never change but for the worse. Another article which the poor are apt to envy in the rich, is their ease. Now here they mistake the matter totally. They call inaction ease, whereas nothing is farther from it. Rest is ease. That is true; but no man can rest who has not worked. Rest is the cessation of labour. It can- must never have. The As to some other things which the poor are disposed to envy in the condition of the rich, such as their state, their appearance, the grandeur of their houses, dress, equipage, and attendance, they only envy the rich these things because they do not know the rich. They have not opportunities of observing with what neglect and insensibility the rich possess and regard these things themselves. If they could see the great man in his retirement, and in his actual manner of life, they would find him, if pleased at all, taking pleasure in some of those simple enjoyments which they can command as well as he. They would find him amongst his children, in his husbandry, in his garden, pursuing some rural diversion, or occupied with some trifling exercise, which are all gratifications, as much within the power and reach of the poor man as of the rich; or rather more so. To learn the art of contentment, is only to learn what happiness actually consists in. Sensual pleasures add little to its substance. Ease, if by that be meant exemption from labour, contributes nothing. One, however, constant spring of satisfaction, and almost infallible support of cheerfulness and spirits, is the exercise of domes tic affections; the presence of objects of tenderness and endearment in our families, our kindred, our friends. Now, have the poor any thing to complain of here? Are they not surrounded by their relatives as generally as others? The poor man has his wife and children about him; and what has the rich more? He has the same enjoyment of their society, the same solicitude for their welfare, the same pleasure in their good qualities, improvement, and success: their connexion with him, is as strict and intimate, their attachment as strong, their gratitude as warm. I have no propensity to envy any one, least of all the rich and great; but if I were disposed to this weakness, the subject of my envy would be, a healthy young man, in full possession of his strength and faculties. going forth in a morning to work for his wife and children, or bringing them home his wages at night. But was difference of rank or fortune of more importance to personal happiness than it is, it would be ill purchased by any sudden or violent If, in comparing the different conditions of social life, we bring religion into the account, the argument is still easier. Religion smooths all inequalities, because it unfolds a prospect which makes all earthly distinctions nothing. And I do allow that there are many cases of sickness, affliction, and distress, which Christianity alone can comfort. But in estimating the mere diversities of station and civil condition, I have not thought it necessary to introduce religion into the inquiry at all; because I contend, that the man who murmurs and repines, when he has nothing to murmur and repine about, but the mere want of independable, in his complaint; and that he would find, did he know the truth, and consider his case fairly, that a life of labour, such, I mean, as is led by the labouring part of mankind in this country, has advantages in it which compensate all its inconveniences. When compared with the life of the rich, it is better in these important respects: It supplies employment, it promotes activity. It keeps the body in better health, the mind more engaged, and, of course, more quiet. It is more sensible of ease, more susceptible of pleasure. It is attended with greater alacrity of spirits, a more constant cheerfulness and serenity of temper. It affords easier and more certain methods of sending children into the world in situations suited to their habits and expectations. It is free from many heavy anxieties which rich men feel; it is fraught with many sources of delight which they want. change of condition. An alteration of circumstances, which breaks up a man's habits of life, deprives him of his occupation, removes him from his acquaintance, may be called an elevation of fortune, but hardly ever brings with it an addition of enjoyment, They to whom accidents of this sort have happened, never found them to answer their expectations. After the first hurry of the change is over, they are surprised to feel in themselves listlessness and dejection, a consciousness of solitude, vacancy, and restraint, in the place of cheerfulness, liberty, and ease. They try to make up for what they have lost, sometimes by a beastly sottishness, sometimes by a foolish dissipa-ent property, is not only irreligious, but unreasontion, sometimes by a stupid sloth; all which effects are only so many confessions, that changes of this sort were not made for man. If any public disturbance should produce, not an equality (for that is not the proper name to give it,) but a jumble of ranks and professions amongst us, it is not only evident what the rich would lose, but there is also this further misfortune, that what the rich lost the poor would not gain. I (God knows) could not get my livelihood by labour, nor would the labourer find any solace or enjoyment in my studies. If we were to exchange conditions to-morrow, all the effect would be, that we both should be more miserable, and the work of both be worse done. Without debating, therefore, what might be very difficult to decide, which of our two conditions was better to begin with, one point is certain, that it is best for each to remain in his own. The change, and the only change, to be desired, is that gradual and progressive improvement of our cir-ing husbandman or artificer adds another very cumstances which is the natural fruit of successful industry; when each year is something better than the last; when we are enabled to add to our little household one article after another of new comfort or conveniency, as our profits increase, or our burden becomes less; and, what is best of all, when we can afford, as our strength declines, to relax our labours, or divide our cares. This may be looked forward to, and is practicable, by great numbers in a state of public order and quiet; it is absolutely impossible in any other. | If to these reasons for contentment, the reflectmaterial one, that changes of condition, which are attended with a breaking up and sacrifice of our ancient course and habit of living, never can be productive of happiness, he will perceive, I trust, that to covet the stations or fortunes of the rich, or so, however, to covet them, as to wish to seize them by force, or through the medium of public uproar and confusion, is not only wickedness, but folly, as mistaken in the end as in the means, that it is not only to venture out to sea in a storm, but to venture for nothing. |