Serino: or, the character of a fine gentleman: with reference to rerigion [sic], learning, and the conduct of life. ... Written by Mr. Addison.

THE CHARACTER OF A Fine GENTLEMAN.

_THERE is nothing reflects a darker Shade on all the Glories Earth can boast of, than the serious Considera|tion of their transitory Nature? How do their richest Beauties fade as the Colours of a Rainbow? And vanish like the gaudy Ima|ges of a deluding Vision? The sweetest Plea|sures which charm Mankind, that warble so agreeably on the Senses, and surprizingly cap|tivate the Imagination, glide away in a Moment, and are often succeeded by the most melancholy Sentiments. Such an easy Transition is there from the Mirth of a Festival, to the Gloom of a Funeral; that we cannot but admire the Wis|dom

of those Antients, who mingled the Em|blems of Mortality with the brightest and gay|est Scenes of Nature, and thought the glowing Crimson of a Rose, and the Virgin Whiteness of the Lilly, less ornamental to their Gardens, than the awful Monuments and venerable Urns of their departed Ancestors. All Conditions of Life are open to the Strokes of Fortune, whose violent and unrelenting Storms will rend alike the Hermitage, the Cottage, and the Palace. Tho' the greater part of Mankind delight in Mirth, and flee from Sorrow as from the Hor|rors of a Midnight Apparition; yet it fre|quently overtakes them, and often pierces the very Soul of the dullest Peasant, of the most airy Wit, of the most consummate Politician. Dishonour and Grief have many times soiled the Royal Purple, and stained the triumphant Lustre of Imperial Ensigns. What Favourite of Nature, what Darling of Fortune can then promise himself, with Security, a long Conti|nuance of Felicity? Had young Philindus well attended to such Thoughts as these, had not his ungoverned Fancy raised imaginary Scenes, and drest them in fairy Beauties; his Disappoint|ment would not have been so great, nor the Tide of his Sorrows so considerable and impe|tuous. Indeed when first he began to converse with the World, and make a publick Appea|rance, 'twas with so much advantage, that per|haps a more solid Genius than his would have

promised himself not a little Happiness from such an agreeable Prospect: The Comeliness of his Person, the Sweetness of his Temper, the Bright|ness of his Parts, and the Lustre of his Fortune, conspire to distinguish him, as a Person born for some noble End, in whose future Behavi|our one might hope distinctly to trace the Chri|stian, the Patriot, and the Gentleman; yet, alas! this blooming Youth, enchanted with the Musick of the Syrens, and seduced by Flattery and Voluptuousness, lost his Innocence, his Friends, and his Fortune: After which, he would often take a solitary Walk round the neighbouring Fields, and there lament, like Eve when she left her Nuptial Bower, and surveyed, with streaming Eyes, the depart|ing Beauties of Eden. One Morning in par|ticular he rose very early, and being full of Me|ditations, and intensely pursuing a long Train of Thought, he wandered much farther than usual; whilst the Verdure of the Fields, and the Mu|sick of the Woods, entertained his Senses in the most agreeable manner. Thus roved the unfortunate Philindus, till the Heat of the Sun obliged him to stop at a little Grove; in the most retired part of which he found a pretty Arbour, and there he sat down to rest him. At that instant he was oppressed with a Torrent of Grief; and the unhappy Youth cry'd out in the greatest Agony of Spirit:

"Assist me, most merciful Redeemer, and send some ten|der

Guardian-Angel to support my fainting Spi|rits and help an Imagination, which bleeds a fresh at every momentary Reflection. Oh! the fatal Errors of my past Life! Were I Ma|ster of the Eastern Magnificence, or Lord of the Stars, I would, with Transport, resign all for the happy Opportunity of correcting them; but the Months that are gone, are fled for ever."

He had proceeded in his Soliloquy, had not he been hindered by the Approach of a young Clergyman, who was coming to that Arbour, which he almost daily visited. It is a com|mon Observation, that when Persons of Learn|ing and Politeness meet together, though Stran|gers to each other, they soon fall into an easy, graceful, and familiar Air; and converse, in some measure, like intimate Acquaintance. This was the Case before us: The Clergyman, after some little time, began, in an obliging manner, to enquire what Adventure had brought him thi|ther;

"For, says he, I do not remember to have seen any here before, except those who came from our Family: and no wonder, since there is no common Path lies any way near it."

Philindus told him.

"It was his Cu|stom to walk round the Fields, and there sooth a melancholy Softness incident to him; that he had wander'd far beyond his usual Li|mits, and at last, by Accident, found out that Place of Ease and Refreshment."

"The Chaplain (for such it seems he was) gave him to understand,

"That he lived about a Mile off, in the House of a great Gentleman: And then added with a Sigh, Our Family has this Morning met with the sharpest Afflicti|on imaginable, in the Death of that inesti|mable Person. O dear Serino! how dismal is the Sound of thy Death to every distres|sed Neighbour? Whilst each Person laments, as though he had lost the Darling of his Hopes and Family, and the Women were pre|paring their First-born for the Funeral: Even this delightful Retirement has now lost its Beauty, and I find 'twas his endearing Con|versation, and reviving Presence, that gave the Grove its richest Charms. How many thousand Eyes will then overflow with Tears, when he shall be carried to his Grave, whose Bounty and Compassion have rescued many from it? However, he will be laid to Rest with Honour, and his unstained Ashes shri|ned in immortal Urns, whose Gold no Rust can canker; not Malice, nor Envy it-self, did once attempt to defame him living, much less will they offer to violate his peaceful Marble."

Here he paused, and Philindus desired he would be pleased to favour him with some Ac|count of that Gentleman, whose Virtues were so conspicuous:

"Indeed, continu'd he, I have heard of many noble Actions of the brave

Serino; but since you had the Honour and Happiness to be intimate with him, I may reasonably expect something more entertain|ing and particular. And since we are thus by Accident met together, I should be very glad to spend some time in free and serious Converse; which may perhaps prove of more advantage to us, than if we had indulged ourselves in melancholy and solitary Medita|tions; which, I perceive, is what we both proposed at our walking out: And, for my part, I cannot but think, the many tedious Steps I have this Morning taken, sufficiently recompensed, by my meeting, in this Place, a Gentleman whose Aspect and obliging Ad|dress promise so much agreeable Entertain|ment."

The Chaplain reply'd,

"That no|thing could be more grateful to him than such a Proposal:"

And then immediately be|gan, after this manner, to give an Account of Serino.

AS Religion is certainly the chief Con|cern and greatest Ornament of Man|kind, which adds fresh Lustre to the Jewels of a Crown, and adorns with a new Grace the noblest Scepters, 'twas always Serino's Opinion, That the sincere Practice of it did much more re|commend a Gentleman to the Esteem of his Con|temporaries, than the most stately Buildings, the most delicious Gardens, or the most shining E|quipage:

As well knowing and considering, that all this Pomp and Beauty would soon be lost in Silence and Obscurity; whilst Vertue reserves, for her Votaries, Rewards which are unknown and eternal. Indeed of late Years, some, who would be thought Men of uncommon Parts, and set up for Wits of the first Rank, are of a quite different Opinion; and whilst they are industriously propagating their Atheisti|cal Notions, make no Scruple of bantering the most aweful Mysteries of Religion: But He always thought there was so much Absurdity and Contradiction in their impious Schemes, as was sufficient to hinder any wise Man from em|bracing them. I believe I shall never forget those Conferences which I have had with him on this weighty Subject, the Substance of which I shall be very ready to impart to You; provi|ded you will be so free as sometimes to relieve me, by intermingling such Observations, as shall appear most natural and proper.

Philindus.

I shall be very glad if I can say any thing, which may deserve to be joined to the refined Thoughts of Serino, or even with your own agreeable Sentiments: Therefore, pray, Sir, go on.

Chaplain.

His Reasonings upon this Head were after this manner: That there is a Supreme Being, of infinite Perfection and Glory, is a Notion which the Mind of every Man is apt to assent to, as soon as 'tis proposed: And some

Great Men, Cicero in particular, carry the Mat|ter much farther, and represent this Notion of a God as an innate Idea, which is Born with us, and interwoven with our Constitution. Now that such an Almighty Being does really exist, is evident from divers Considerations: As 1st, From natural Effects, which are observa|ble by every Man:

The Heavens (says the Royal Psalmist) declare the Glory of God, and the Firmament sheweth his Handy-work; Day unto Day uttereth Speech, and Night unto Night sheweth Knowledge. There is no Speech nor Language where their Voice is not heard, their Sound is gone out into all Lands, and their Words unto the Ends of the World.

The Po|lite and Judicious Mr. Addison has obliged us with a curious Ode on these sublime Thoughts of King David: I'm confident you will not think it loss of time to hear it repeated.

I.

The spacious Firmament on high, With all the blue Ethereal Sky, And spangled Heavens, a shining Frame, Their great Original proclaim. Th' unweary'd Sun, from Day to Day, Does his Creator's Power display; And publishes, to every Land, The Work of an Almighty Hand.

II.

Soon as the Evening Shades prevail, The Moon takes up the wond'rous Tale; And Nightly, to the list'ning Earth, Repeats the Story of her Birth: Whilst all the Stars, that round Her burn, And all the Planets, in their turn, Confirm the Tidings as they roll, And spread the Truth from Pole to Pole.

III.

What tho', in solemn Silence, all Move round the dark Terrestrial Ball; What tho', no real Voice, nor Sound, Amidst their radiant Orbs be found: In Reason's Ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious Voice; For ever Singing as they Shine, The Hand that made us is Divine.

How exactly is the Sun placed at such a due Distance from the Earth, that he may by just Degrees give his Heat both by Sea and Land? For suppose it in a remoter Place of the Aether, how exquisite a Scene of Desolation had our Globe been? and unsufferable Winter had defaced its blooming Charms: We could have had then no gentle Zephyrs, rich with the Spoils of balmy Flowers; but must have been oppressed with piercing Tempests, and buried under Pyramids

of Snow. On the other hand, had it been nearer, his fiery Beams would have burnt up every Beauty of Nature, and made this World an universal sandy Desart. How wonderful are the Motions of other heavenly Bodies? How clear an Argument of stupendous Art, and per|fect Prudence, if we descend from the Skies, where so many thousand Gems glister round the Azure Ring of Heaven, and take a serious View of the Earth, which is to us the most observable Part of the Universe! We shall there find the clearest Demonstrations of Almighty Goodness, Wisdom, and Power. This is very well represented by the admirable Dr. Barrow, in his Exposition of the Creed.

"That this Earth was designed for the Ac|commodation of living Creatures which are upon it, and principally of Man, we can|not be ignorant or doubtful, if we be not so negligent or stupid, as to let pass unobserved those innumerable Signs and Arguments that shew it. If we look upon the Frame of the Animals themselves, what a Number of ad|mirable Contrivances in each of them do ap|pear, for the Sustenance, for the Safety, for the Pleasure, for the Propagation, for Grace and Ornament, for all imaginable Conveni|ence suitable to the Kind and Station of each: If we look about them, what Variety and Abundance of convenient Provisions offer themselves, even to a careless View, answer|able

to all their Needs, and all their Desires; wholesome and pleasant Food to maintain their Lives, yea, to gratify all their Senses, fit Shelter from Offence, and safe Refuge from Danger: All these Things provided in sufficient Plenty, and commodiously disposed for such a vast Number of Creatures; not the least, most silly, weak, or contemptible Creature, but we may see some Care has been had for its Nourishment and Comfort. What wonderful Instincts are they endued with, for procuring and distinguishing their Food, for guarding themselves and their Young from Danger? But for Man especi|ally, a most liberal Provision has been made to supply all his Needs, to please all his Ap|petites, to exercise with Profit and Satisfac|tion all his Faculties, to content, I might say, his utmost Curiosity; Neque enim Ne|cessitatibus tantummodo nostris provisum est, us|que in delicias amatur, says Seneca: All Things about him do minister (or may do so, if he will use the natural Powers and Instruments given him) to his Preservation, Ease, and Delight. The Bowels of the Earth yield him Treasures of Metals and Minerals, Quar|ries of Stone and Coals, serviceable to him for various Uses. The vilest and commonest Stones he treadeth upon are not unprofitable. The Surface of the Earth, what Variety of delicate Fruits, Herbs, and Grains, doth it

afford to nourish our Bodies, and chear our Spirits, to please our Tastes, and remedy our Diseases? How many fragrant Flowers, most beautiful and goodly in Colour and Shape, for the Comfort of our Smell, and Delight of our Eyes? Neither can our Ears complain, since every Wood has a Choir of natural Musicians, to entertain them with their sprightful Melody: Every Wood did I say? yes, too the Woods, adorned with stately Trees, yield pleasant Spectacles to our Sight, shelter from Offences of Weather and Sun; Fewel for our Fires, Materials for our Buildings, (our Houses and Shipping) and other needful Utensils. Even the barren Mountains send us down fresh Streams of Water, so necessary for the Support of our Lives, so profitable for the Fructification of our Grounds, so commodious for Convey|ance and maintaining of Intercourse among us. Even the wide Seas themselves serve us many ways; they are commodious for our Traffick and Commerce, they supply the Bottles of Heaven with Water to refresh the Earth; they are inexhaustable Cisterns, from whence our Springs and Rivers are derived; they yield Stores of good Fish, and other Conveniencies of Life. The very rude and disorderly Winds do us no little Service, in brushing and cleansing the Air for our Health, in driving forward our Ships, in scattering

and spreading about the Clouds, those Clouds which drop Fatness on our Grounds. As for our Subjects the Animals, 'tis not possible to reckon the manifold Utilities we receive from them; how many Ways they supply our Needs with pleasant Food and conveni|ent Clothing; how they ease our Labour, and how they promote even our Sport and Recreation. And are we not only very stu|pid, but very ungrateful, if we do not dis|cern abundance of Wisdom and Goodness in the contrivance and ordering of all these Things, so as thus to conspire for our Good? Is it not reasonable that we devoutly cry out with the Psalmist, O Lord, how manifold are thy Works? In Wisdom hast thou made them all; the Earth is full of thy Riches: So is the wide and great Sea: The Eyes of all wait upon thee, and thou givest them their Meat in due Season."

Philind.

Pray, Sir, before you proceed, give me leave to mention one grand Objection which is brought in behalf of Infidelity, and that is this; That we can have no Idea of God, and therefore can have no Evidence of his Existence. And some atheistical Persons argue after this manner: The Notion of a Deity, which is commonly entertain'd, is nothing but a Bundle of Incomprehensibles, Inconceivables, and Im|possibles; it being only a Compilement of all imaginable Attributes of Honour, Courtship, and Compliment, which the confounded Fear

and Astonishment of Men's Minds make them huddle up together, without any Sense or Phi|losophical Truth. This seems to be intimated by a modern Writer, in these Words:

"The Attributes of God signify not true, nor false, nor any Opinion of our Brain, but the Reverence and Devotion of our Hearts; and therefore they are not sufficient Premises to infer Truth, or convince Falshood."

And the same Thing again is farther set out, with no small Pretence to Wit, after this manner; They that venture to dispute philosophically, or reason of God's Nature, from these Attri|butes of Honour, losing their Understanding in the very first Attempt, fall from one Incon|venience into another, without End, and with|out Number; in the same manner as when one, ignorant of the Ceremonies of the Court, com|ing into the Presence of a greater Person than he is used to speak to, and stumbling at his En|trance, to save himself from falling, lets slip his Cloak; to recover his Cloak, lets fall his Hat; and with one Disorder after another, discovers his Astonishment and Rusticity.

Chapl.

To affirm that there is no Idea of God, is all one as to affirm, that there is no Conception of the Mind answering to that Word or Name: And indeed the modern A|theists stick not to maintain, That the Word GOD has no Signification, and that there is no other Idea or Conception in Men's Minds

answering thereunto, besides the mere Phantasm of the Sound. And since, as the learned Dr. Cudworth observes, there are different Words for GOD in several Languages, and Men have the same Notion or Conception in their Minds an|swering to them all; it must needs be granted, that they have some other Idea or Conception belonging to those Words, besides the Phan|tasms of their several Sounds. And indeed it can be nothing else, but either monstrous Sot|tishness and Stupidity of Mind, or else prodi|gious Impudence in these Atheists, to deny that there is any Idea of God at all in the Minds of Men, or that the Word hath any Signification. But whatever these Atheists deny in Words, it is notwithstanding evident, that even themselves have an Idea or Conception in their Minds, an|swering to the Word GOD, when they deny his Existence; because otherwise they would deny the Existence of nothing. And then as to his being absolutely perfect, and of infinite Power, the Pagan-Theists did acknowledge it, as might be proved from vast Numbers of Pas|sages in their Writings. Thus Virgil;

At Pater Anchises Oculos ad Sydera laetus, Extulit, & Coelo palmas cum Voce tetendit, Jupiter Omnipotens Precibus si flecteris ullis.

Philind.

This seems very natural, as does also your last Inference from the Beauty and Har|mony

of the Universe; and yet so very unrea|sonable are the Atheists, that they will not al|low even of this, but find fault with the Crea|tion, and pretend to spy out many considerable Defects in the Frame of Nature, and Consti|tution of the Heavens: For instance, the Dis|position of the Equator and Ecliptick intersec|ting each other in an Angle of twenty-three Degrees and upwards, whereby (as they say) the terrestrial Globe is rendered much more un|inhabitable than otherwise it might be. Again, they remark, that Part of the Earth lies deformed and inhospitable, either by burning Heat, or freezing Cold; they likewise take notice of the Variety of those savage Beasts which terrify Mankind; and thence, with Lucretius, con|clude, that these Things are not under the Con|duct of a wise and merciful Being.

Chapl.

As to their Notion of the Equator, it is built upon a false Supposition of the Antients, That the Torrid Zone, or all between the Tro|picks, was utterly uninhabitable, by reason of the Extremity of the Heat; and it is certain that there is nothing which doth more demon|strate a Providence, than this very thing, it be|ing the most convenient Site or Disposition that could be devised, as will appear if the Inconve|niences of other Dispositions be considered, e|specially these three: (1.) If the Axis of these Circles should be parallel, and their Plaries co|incident. (2.) If they should intersect each

other in right Angles. And (3.) which is a Middle betwixt both, if they should cut one another in an Angle of forty-five Degrees; for it is evident, that each of these Dispositions would be attended with far greater Inconveni|ences to the terrestrial Inhabitants, in respect of the Length of Days and Nights, Heat and Cold: And that these two Circles should con|tinue thus to keep the same angular Intersection, when physical and mechanical Causes would bring them still nearer together; this is a far|ther Evidence of a Providence also. And then as to the savage Animals, as we are assured by Revelation, that they were not originally noxi|ous to Mankind, but became so by Sin, so even now they are of some Use and Service to them.

Philind.

Let us, Sir, if you please, proceed to some farther Arguments in Defence of this great Truth.

Chapl.

That there is a God, is proved by the general Consent of Mankind concerning it; by that

Testimonium, as Lactantius speaks, Populorum atque Gentium in una hac re non dissidentium, "That unanimous Testimony of all People and Nations, not disagreeing in this only Point."

If the Authority of some particular Men, agree|ing in Vote, of one City, of one Nation, doth pass for an Argument, and shews the Thing probable; how can we decline or contemn the common Suffrage of Mankind? Another Ar|gument of God's Existence, which gave great

Satisfaction to Serino, is drawn from the Disco|veries of a Divine Power, in Works that can|not be ascribed to any other Cause visible or natural; such are the Prediction of future E|vents, (especially such as are contingent, and depend upon Man's free Choice) curing the Sick of great chronical Distempers, without any medicinal Applications; restoring Limbs to Persons maimed; Sight to the Blind; and rai|sing the Dead to Life, (a thing which Pliny deemed impossible to God himself.) To this Head belong those Opinions and Testimonies of Mankind concerning Apparitions, Inchant|ments, and Consederacy with bad Spirits.

Phil.

As to the general Opinion of Mankind, the Atheist would make us believe, that this Ap|prehension of a God doth spring from an infi|nite Jealousy in the Mind of Man, and an end|less Fear of the worst that may happen; accor|ding to that divine Saying of the Poet, which he can never sufficiently admire:

Primus in orbe DEOS fecit TIMOR. FEAR first made GODS.

So that it is granted on both Sides, that the Fear of a Deity doth universally possess the Minds of Men.

"Now the Question is, (says the learned Archbishop Tillotson) whether it be more like|ly that the Existence of a God should be the

Cause of this Fear, or that this Fear should be the Cause why Men imagine there is a God? If there be a God, who hath impres|sed this Image of himself upon the Mind of Man, there is great reason why all Men should stand in awe of him; but if there be no God, it is not easy to conceive how Fear should create an universal Confidence and Assurance in Men that there is one. For whence should this Fear come? It must be either from without, from the Suggestion of others, who first tell us there is such a Being, and then our Fear believes it; or else it must arise from within, from the Nature of Man, which is apt to fancy dreadful and terrible Things. If from the Suggestions of others, who tell us so, the Question returns, Who told them so? And will never be satis|fied till the first Author of this Report be found out. But if it be said, that this Fear ariseth from within, from the Nature of Man, which is apt to imagine dreadful Things; this likewise is liable to inexplicable Difficul|ties: For, first, the proper Object of Fear, is something that is dreadful; that is, some|thing that threatens Men with Harm or Danger, and that in God must be either Power or Justice; and such an Object as this, Fear indeed may create, but Goodness and Mercy are essential to the Notion of a God, as well as Power and Justice. Now

how should Fear put Men upon fancying a Being, that is infinitely good and merciful?"

Indeed, as that great Prelate, just now menti|oned, observes, if a Man had Arguments suffi|cient to persuade him, that there is no God, (as there is infinite Reason to the contrary) yet the Belief of a God is so necessary to the Com|fort and Happiness of our Lives, that a wise Man could not but be heartily troubled to quit so pleasant an Error, and to part with a Delu|sion which is apt to yield such an unspeakable Satisfaction to the Mind of Man. Did Men but consider the true Notion of God, he would appear to be so lovely a Being, and so full of Goodness, and all desirable Perfections, that even those very Persons, who are of such irre|gular Understandings, as not to believe there is a God; yet could not (if they understood themselves) refrain from wishing with all their Hearts, that there were one: For is it not really desirable to every Man, that there should be such a Being in the World, as takes care of the Frame of it, that it do not run into Confusion, and in that Disorder ruin Mankind? That there should be such a Being, as takes particular care of every one of us, and loves us, and delights to do us good; as understands all our Wants, and is able and willing to relieve us in our grea|test Straits, when nothing else can; to preserve us in our greatest Dangers, to assist us against our worst Enemies, and to comfort us under

our sharpest Sufferings, when all other Things set themselves against us?

Chapl.

It is really so very plain and evident, that I shall go farther on this Subject, after having taken notice, that the Epicurean Account of the Original of the World, (as expressed by Lucretius) is most intolerably romantic and ri|diculous; for how is it any Ways possible that Chance should make this great Volume of the World, which can never produce the least Book? How long might a Man be in sprinkling Colours upon Canvass, with a careless Hand, before they would happen to make the exact Picture of a Man? And is a Man easier made by Chance than his Picture?

Phil.

I think there is one considerable Ob|jection of the Atheists, which as yet we have not touched upon, I should therefore be glad if you would a little consider it, before we dis|miss this Subject.

Chapl.

Pray, what is that?

Phil.

The seeming Confusion of Human Affairs; That all Things fall alike to all; the Innocent and the Guilty, the Pious and the Impious, the Religious and the Profane: Nay, that many times the worser Causes and Men prevail against the better, as is intimated in that Passage of Lucan, tho' in the Person of a Theist:

Victrix Causa Diis placuit sed Victa Catoni.

And that the Unjust and Ungodly often flou|rish in the greatest Prosperity, whilst the inno|cent and devout Worshippers of the Deity, all their Lives long, struggle with Adversity: Whereas were there a God and Providence, as they conceive, profane and irreligious Persons would be presently thunder-struck from Hea|ven, or otherwise made remarkable Objects of divine Vengeance; as also the Pious miracu|lously protected and rescued from Evils and Harms.

Chapl.

It must indeed be granted, that this Consideration hath too much puzzled and stag|gered weak Minds in all Ages;

"Because Sen|tence against an evil Work is not executed speedily, therefore is the Heart of the Sons of Men fully set in them to do Evil:"

And the Psalmist himself was sometimes much perplexed with this Phenomenon, the Prosperity of the Ungodly, who set their Mouths against Heaven, and whose Tongue walketh thro' the Earth: So that he was tempted to think,

"He had cleansed his Heart in vain, and washed his Hands in Innocency;"

Till at length en|tring into the Sanctuary of God, his Mind be|came illuminated, and his Soul fixed in a firm Trust and Confidence upon divine Providence;

Whom (says he) have I in Heaven but thee? &c. My Flesh and my Heart faileth, but God is the Strength of my Heart, and my Portion for ever.

For as some will be apt from hence to in|fer,

that there is no God, but that blind Chance and Fortune steer all; (The Fool hath said in his Heart, there is no God) so will others conclude, that tho' there be a God, yet he either does not know Things done here below, (How does God know, and is there Knowledge in the most High?) or else will not so far humble himself, or dis|turb his own Ease and Quiet, as to concern himself in our low human Affairs. First of all therefore, we here say that it is altogether unrea|sonable to require that divine Providence should miraculously interpose upon every Turn, in punishing the Ungodly, and preserving the Pi|ous, and thus perpetually interrupt the Course of Nature, (which would look but like a Botch or Bungle, and a violent Business) but rather carry Things on in a still and silent Path, and shew his Art and Skill, in making Things of themselves fairly unwind and clear up at last into a satisfactory Close. Passion and Self-In|terest are blind or short-sighted; but that which steers the whole World, is no fond, pettish, impatient, and passionate Thing, but an impar|tial, disinterested, and uncaptivated Nature. Nevertheless, it is certain, that sometimes we have not wanted Instances, in Cases extraordi|nary, of a 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, God appearing, as it were, miraculously upon the Stage, and ma|nifesting himself, in taking immediate Venge|ance upon notorious Malefactors, or delivering his faithful Servants from imminent Dangers or

Evils threatned; as the same is often done also by a secret and undiscerned Over-ruling of the Things of Nature: But it must be granted, that it is not always thus, but the Periods of divine Providence here in this World are com|monly longer, and the Evolutions thereof slow|er, which proceeds not from Slackness and Re|missness in the Deity, but either from his Pa|tience and Long-suffering, being willing that Men should repent; or else to teach us Patience by his Example: They therefore, who because Judgment is not presently executed upon the Ungodly, blame the Management of Things as faulty, and Providence as defective, are like such Spectators of a Dramatic Poem, as when wick|ed and injurious Persons are brought upon the Stage for a while swaggering and triumphing, impatiently cry out against the Dramatist, and presently condemn the Plot: Whereas, if they would but expect the winding up of Things, and stay till the last Clap, they should then see them come off with sufficient Shame and Pu|nishment.

Phil.

It is indeed most absurd for such weak and ignorant Creatures as Mortals are, to pre|sume to pronounce rashly of the Divine Go|vernment. But pray, Sir, go on in your Ac|count of Serino's Sentiments as to Religion.

Chapl.

He thought it no less evident, that we ought to worship this God, and to pay him our most solemn Adoration: The Beauties of

Nature so warm'd the Breasts of the Heathens, that in those Groves, where they had so oft enjoy'd the soft Delights of the refreshing Breeze, and the flowery Shade, there they per|form'd religious Rites, and each retired Grotto became a sacred Temple. Now it••s very natu|ral to conceive, that Almighty God should make some Discovery of his Will to his Crea|tures by remarkable and distinct Revelations, and not permit the devout Soul, whom the Glories of the Creation has raised to a sacred Extasy, to offer up his Sacrifice to an unknown Deity: Is it not absurd to suppose, that the King of Heaven should give to Men (his Sub|jects) no certain Rule for their Conduct of Life, but leave every one to act according to what he imagines most agreeable to the Laws of Nature and Honour? Uncertain Guides! into what various and opposite Paths do you lead your wandering Followers? Whilst one Man thinks that Action natural and honoura|ble, which another (perhaps of more Wisdom) reckons base and unnatural; from such an un|certain Sound, who can prepare himself to the Battle?

Phil.

And yet the Deists insist upon it, That Reason alone is an unerring Guide in Matters of Religion, and sufficient to make us happy; which (say they) is as much as we need de|sire. About which Mr. Clifford thus expresses himself:

"Being resolv'd, according to the

Duty of every private Person, to make a Search into the Nature and Quality of my Religion; and, according to my Interest in Human Society, to communicate the Effects of that Search to others, if I shall believe it profitable for them: I am, in the first place, to consider of the Choice of some Guide for so long and dangerous a Journey, where I shall sometimes meet with no Track or Path at all, and sometimes with so many, and those so contrary in the Appearance of their first Entry, that the Variety will confound me more than the Want, especially, there being so many Mists cast before me, by the Errors and Deceits of others, that one had great need of a better Eye-sight than is left us by the Fall of our first Forefather. And this Consideration, after a long and serious Debate thereof, brings no other Guide to me but my own Reason; which if it take such Directions as it ought, and may do be|fore it sets forth, and pursue those Directi|ons with Care and Constancy, tho' it may possibly lead me into Errors, yet will bring me at last even through them, to the pro|posed End of my Journey, which is Hap|piness."

Chapl.

Notwithstanding what these Gentle|men assert, it is certain, that natural Religion, without revealed, is not sufficient, because it wants Clearness and Authority, especially con|cerning

those two great Articles, of Forgive|ness of Sins, and a Future State.

Phil.

As to these Points, I remember Mr. Blount, the great Champion of the Deists, in his Oracles of Reason, makes these brief Obser|vations:

"Whatsoever is adorable, amiable, and imitable by Mankind, is in one Supreme, In|finite, and perfect Being, who is to be wor|shiped not by an Image, Sacrifice, or Me|diator, but by an inviolable Adherence in our Lives to all the Things 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, by an Imitation of God in all his imitable Per|fections, and believing magnificently of it."

And then he goes on, speaking of a Future State;

"A Man that is endued with the same Virtues we have before-mention'd, need not fear to trust his Soul with God after Death; for, 1st, no Creature could be made with a malevolent Intent, the first Good, who is also the first Principle of all Beings, hath but one Affection or Property, and that is Love; which was long before there was any such thing as Sin. 2dly, At Death he gives to God one and the same Being, who in his own Nature, for the Sins of the Penitent, hath as well an Inclination to Pity as Justice; and there is nothing dreadful in the whole Nature of God but his Justice, no Attribute else being terrible. 3dly, Infinite Power is ever safe, and needs not Revenge for Self-Preservation.

4thly, However verisimile est similem Deo a Deo non negligi."

Chapl.

After they have said all they can, na|tural Religion, without revealed, is not a solid Foundation of Happiness; besides, there ne|ver was any Age or Nation in the World, when or where such a pure natural Religion as they talk of, without any manner of rituous Wor|ship, was ever practised. I know not what secret Histories these Gentlemen may have of the Golden Age; but as for us dull Believers, we can't see one word in all the ancient Books we meet withal, that gives us the least Hint of such a naked natural Religion as you speak of: If we have Recourse to the Poets, to whom we are beholden for all that is known of these Golden Ages, when these brave Men lived; they make Religion as ritual as it is now, and altogether as full of Sacrifices and Revelations: Nay, the Account we have of the Goddess Astraea, which is a principal Part of the poetical History of the Golden Age, is, that she was a Numen sent from Heaven, to converse with Men on Earth, to inspire them with Justice and Sobriety, and to teach them Vertue and a good Life: Which Fable is but an antient Tradition of the Frequency of God's conversing with holy Men in the first Ages of the World. Neither do we see any of the antient poetical Heroes, your Hercules's and Pollux's, your brave Natural-Religion Men; but they fre|quent

Sacrifices as much as other People; as we see by the Examples of Priam, Ʋlysses, Achilles, and Aeneas; of Cadmus, Perseus, Theseus, and all the Argonauts in Apollonius, and other Poets. So that we cannot but conclude, that the Story which the Deists tell us of the antient Univer|sality of pure Natural Religion, is all philoso|phical Romance, and never had any Being but in the Brains of the Gentlemen of their Persua|sion, and those of some System-Makers and Preachers of late, drawn from the scatter'd Sayings and Books of Philosophers.

Phil.

If Natural Religion then proves so in|sufficient, we must consult Revealed; which, I suppose, was practised by Serino.

Chapl.

Undoubtedly! Concerning which Method, Serino would express himself after this Manner:

"The next thing which a consider|ing Man has to do, after he has discover'd the Insufficiency of Reason without Revelation, to make a Man happy, is to enquire into the Nature of those Religions that lay claim to a divine Authority. If we take a steddy View of the Pagan Scheme, we shall find it so over-run with Ignorance, Barbarity, and monstrous Fiction, that any Person of to|lerable Parts, might soon draw a better and more rational Plan; in which there is little tending to the Reverence of God, or the good of Man, to the promoting Virtue and Goodness in Human Conversation, to the

breeding Love and Good-will in Men to|wards one another. Their Worship (that of the supreme Lord being neglected) is direc|ted towards Objects most improper and un|becoming; to the Ghosts of dead Men, Men in their Lives (if we may trust the Reports of their devoutest Adorers) famous for no|thing so much as for vicious Enormities, for Thefts and Rapine, for Murders and Par|ricides, for horrid Lusts and Adulteries, Rapes and Incests: And such Persons alive or dead, what wise and good Man would not rather loath than worship and respect? If we consult the Alcoran of Mahomet, that notori|ous Antichrist, and vile Impostor, we shall reap but little Benefit from a silly Rhapsody of Lewdness and Cruelty. Indeed, Maho|metism, in respect to its Age, and the Port it bears in the World, demands some Consi|deration; for (to speak in the Words of a great Man of our Church) it hath continued a long Time, and hath vastly overspread the Earth: Neither is it more formidable in its Looks, than peremptory in its Words, vaunt|ing itself to be a compleat, general, and ul|timate Declaration of God••s Pleasure, can|celling all those that have gone before. But examining both the Substance and Circum|stances thereof, considering the Quality of the Instruments by whom, of the Times when it was introduced, of the Places where,

of the People who first, or afterwards did re|ceive it, the Manner of its Rise, Progress, and Continuance, as also the Matter it teaches; we shall not find stampt on it the genuine Characters of a divine Original, but have great Reason to deem it a Brood of most lewd and impudent Couzenage, in Times of great Disturbance and Confusion, when barbarous Nations, like Torrents, did overflow the World, and turned all Things upside down in Times of general Corruption and Disorder in Men's Minds and Manners, when even among Christians, Ignorance and Supersti|tion, Dissension and Uncharitableness, Im|piety and Iniquity, did greatly prevail. In a very blind and obscure Corner of the Earth, among a Crew of wild Thieves and Runa|gates, (such have those Arabians been always famed and known to be) this Sect had its Birth and Fosterage; among those fierce and savage Over-runners of the World, it got its Growth and Stature: Into this Sort of Peo|ple (being indeed in its Constitution well accommodated to that Humour and Genius) it was partly insinuated by jugling Tricks, and partly driven by seditious Violence; the first Author hereof being a Person, according to the Description given of him in their own Legends, of no honest or honourable Qua|lities, but having all the Marks of an Impos|tor, rebellious and persidious, inhuman and

cruel, lewd and lascivious, of a base Educa|tion, of a fraudulent and turbulent Disposi|tion, of a vicious Life, pretending to En|thusiasm, and working of Wonders; but these such as were in their Nature most ab|surd and incredible. At such a Season, and in such a Soil, by such Means, and by such a Person, was this Religion first planted, and afterwards carried on by the Sword. Now that divine Wisdom should chuse those black and boisterous Times to publish his Will, is as if the King should purposely order his Proclamations to be made in a tempestuous Night, when no Man scarce dares to stir out, nor could well see what was done, or hear what was said; much fitter surely to that Purpose, were a serene and calm Day, a Time of general Civility and Peace, like that of Augustus Caesar. That the Declaration of God's Mind should issue from the Desarts of Arabia, (that Den of Robbers) is, as if the King should cause his Edicts to be set up in the blindest and dirtiest Nook of the Su|burbs; the Market-Cross surely, or the Ex|change, (the Place of most general and ordi|nary Concourse) such as, in respect to the World, was the flourishing Empire of Rome, were more convenient, and wisely chosen for that purpose: That passing over the more gentle and tractable Part of his People, a Prince should send his Laws to a Rabble of

Banditti; should pick out for his Messenger a most dissolute Varlet, attended with a Crew of desperate Ruffians, resolved to buffet and rifle all they met: Were an odd Way of pro|ceeding to communicate his Pleasure to the better and more orderly sort of his People, (such as were the Subjects of that well-go|vern'd Empire) by Persons of good Mean|ing, mild Disposition, and innocent Beha|viour, (such as were the Apostles of our Lord) in a quiet and gentle manner, (such as these only used) would surely better be|come a wise Prince. Thus even the exte|rior Circumstances of Mahometism are strong Presumptions against its Divinity; but farther, if we look into the Frame and Matter of it, we shall find it a Mass of absurd Opinions, odd Stories, and uncouth Ceremonies, compounded chiefly of the Dregs of Christian Heresy, together with some Ingredients of Judaism and Paganism confusedly jumbled."

Such Considerations as these seem sufficient to demonstrate that Re|ligion not to be of a divine Extraction.

Phil.

But then as to the Jewish Religion, we must acknowledge it had its Birth from the Revelation and Appointment of God.

Chapl.

Its Truth and its Goodness we do not call in question; but yet looking into it, we shall find it in many Respects defective: For, 1st, this Revelation was not general, but pe|culiarly

intended for the Benefit of a small Na|tion.

"He shewed his Word to Jacob, his Statutes and his Judgments to Israel; he hath not dealt so with any Nation, and as for his Judgments, they have not known them."

We may also observe, that as the Laws and Rites of this Religion were design'd only for the People of Israel, so they were only suited to their Inclinations and Capacities; their Inclina|tions, which were very stubborn and perverse; their Capacities, which were very low and gross, as their own Prophets do upon many Occasions affirm and complain, being repugnant to the common Humour and Genius of Mankind. 2dly, As it was particular, so it was also partial; as God did not by it speak his Mind to all, so did he not therein speak out all his Mind: Our Apostle to the Hebrews charges it with Blame|ableness;

"If the first Covenant had been blame|less, &c. with Imperfection, Weakness, and Unprofitableness, there is made an Abolition of the precedent Commandment; for the Weakness and Unprofitableness thereof."

For the Law was nothing perfect, neither does this lay any misbeseeming Imputation upon God, the Author of that Religion; for a Dawning of Light more became that Morning of Times, than a Meridian Brightness. 3dly, It was not designed for perpetual Obligation and Use; the Glory of that Institution is long since de|parted, and the miserable Jews labour under the

Weight of the most dismal Curses: They are now more outrageous Enemies to the Doctrine of the Cross, than the blasphemous Turk, or the barbarous Pagan. In the Christian Religion, that deserves the serious Regard of a consider|ing Mind, 'tis this alone appears most worthy of a God, and by its radiant Appearance, discovers itself to be celestial. It would be endless to reckon up all the distinct Beauties that are so conspicuous in this venerable Institution; I shall but just touch on some few, which fully convinc'd Serino of its Certainty and Excellen|cy: First, It gives us a lovely and clear Idea of our Creator, and sets his infinite Perfections be|fore us in a true and amiable Light; the Benefit of which will be more evident to us, if we con|sider into what wretched Notions the blinded Pagans were led, for want of such a great Ad|vantage. Their Gods were represented as cruel, indigent, and lustful, subject to the meanest Passions of Human Nature; nay, sometimes to the lowest Inclinations of Brutes: What no|ble Objects of Adoration must here be? What admirable Patterns of Sanctity and good Beha|viour? But Christians are taught, from the holy Scriptures, to believe, that God is a Being of infinite Purity and Mercy. A second great Excellency, peculiar to the Christian Institu|tion, is this, That it faithfully informs us con|cerning ourselves, concerning our Nature, our Original, our End, all our State, past, present,

and final; Points about which otherwise by no Reason, no History, no Experience, we could be well resolved or satisfied. It is also a pecu|liar Excellency of our Religion, that it prescribes an accurate Rule of Life, most congruous to Reason, and suitable to our Nature; it sets be|fore us a living Copy, and visible Standard of good Practice; it frees us from a tedious Ob|servance of numerous external Rites, and super|ficial Formalities, and builds our Duty upon most solid Grounds, presses it with most valid Inducements, draweth it from the best Princi|ples, and driveth it to the best End, and far|ther (which no other Law or Doctrine so much as pretends to) provides sufficient Help and A|bility to practise its Commandments: In a word, it alone can appease and satisfy a Man's Conscience, breeding therein a well-grounded Hope, and a solid Comfort; healing the Wounds of bitter Remorse, and anxious Fear, and so appears manifestly to be the true and direct Way to eternal Happiness. It is observable also, that the sacred Oracles furnish us with the most aw|ful Descriptions of God's Power and Majesty, quite different from that Tinsel Pageantry, which so glitters in the Machines of the Hea|then Poets. How bright is the Colouring of the Royal Psalmist, how lofty and refined his Diction, when he celebrates the Honour of his God?

Bless the Lord, O my Soul! O Lord, my God, thou art very great, thou art cloathed with

Honour and Majesty! who coverest thyself with Light, as with a Garment; who stretchest out the Heavens like a Curtain; who layeth the Beams of his Chambers in the Waters; who maketh the Clouds his Chariot; who walketh upon the Wings of the Wind; who maketh his Angels Spirits, his Mini|sters a Flame of Fire, Psal. civ. 1,2,3,4.

The Book of Psalms is full of such divine and mag|nificent Images, as are also many of the Writings of the Prophets, especially Isaiah, who apparent|ly excels the most celebrated of the Grecian or Roman Orators. Many such Observations did the dear Serino make.

Phil.

I think these Heads of Argument very just, and sufficient to give a solid and inward Satisfaction to every Man, who will give him|self leave seriously to attend the Consequences of them: And if we add to these, the nume|rous Miracles wrought in Confirmation of these Doctrines by our Saviour and his Apostles, the wonderful and speedy Propagation of the Gospel under seemingly insuperable Difficulties, the magnanimous Sufferings of the noble Army of Martyrs; who, when they were tortured, would not accept of Deliverance, that they might ob|tain a better Resurrection; the Fierceness of the raging Flames could not shock their Faith, or remove their Constancy, because they well knew, that when our Saviour had overcome the Sharp|ness of Death, he opened the Kingdom of Heaven to all Believers. If we consider all these things,

we must own, that none but Christians deserve the honourable Name of Free-Thinkers, and their dull Adversaries oppose these sublime Truths from a certain Narrowness of Mind, Meanness of Thought, and Contractedness of Soul, that tamely submits to vulgar Prejudices; and not being able to rise to the Contemplation of Eter|nal Joys, dreads so vast an Idea as that of Im|mortality. But pray proceed.

Chapl.

Serino being thus fixed in the Princi|ples of Religion, resolved to act accordingly, and not to omit any Duty out of compliment to the prevailing Humour of a degenerate Age. And tho' now, in great Families, it is reckoned unfashionable to beg a Blessing upon our daily Bread, he thought it proper to have Prayers read twice a Day in a little Chapel adjoining to his House, at which all his menial Servants were obliged to be present. He would by no means allow of the least Tincture of Profane|ness in his Family, yet being himself of a most gay and airy Temper, he would in a particular manner encourage all innocent Mirth, Diversi|on, and Recreations.

Phil.

I have indeed observed, that few things are more prejudicial to Religion, than the too melancholy and rigid Deportment of some of its Votaries.

Chapl.

I have very good Reason to believe, that a virtuous Course of Life has seldom, in our Days, been better recommended, than by

the beautiful Example of Serino, who was the real Friend and powerful Patron of the Orphan and Defenceless at his Gates: You might daily see Crowds of indigent Persons, or at least those who appeared so, who were all supplied with a free and promiscuous Bounty; for he did not relish those Maxims which tend to cut off any (tho' the least) Branch of Charity.

"It may be (would he often say) many who come to my Gates for Relief, are Cheats and Impos|tors: What then! Did I certainly know who these Wretches were, that thus impose on Good-nature and Compassion, the noblest Ornaments of Human Nature, I surely would not throw any thing away upon them; but as I do not, I intend to give, so long as 'tis in my Power, to all that ask, because to me they appear to be in Want: And since Al|mighty God has been so very liberal to me, I cannot but think it will be well-pleasing to Him, to see me vigorously endeavouring to imitate his glorious Example."

Such, in this Case, were the Sentiments of Serino; and I must confess, to me they appear exceeding just and delicate: And were Gentlemen but duly sensi|ble of that refined and ravishing Pleasure, which constantly attends Actions of true Beneficence, they could not but perform them with more Frequency and Readiness. How faint are the Delights of the most luxurious Entertainments? How dull the Sentiments, which spring from

surveying a vast Mass of Riches, if compared with the permanent Joys, that rise from the Reflection of our having brought a seasonable Relief to the distressed Unhappy? Serino had various other Ways of exercising that Heroic Passion of universal Benevolence, which ran so visibly thro' all his Actions, and gave an in|conceivable Grace to his whole Conversation. He was the Founder of a large Charity-School in a neighbouring Town, and the chief Sup|porter of it; besides, he liberally contributed to the Maintenance of divers others. He ob|served, that among all the melancholy Symp|toms of declining Piety, it was very comforta|ble to a pious Mind, to see one very eminent Sign of the Reverse; that is, the flourishing of Charity-Schools in this Kingdom; the De|sign of which is so very excellent, that it can|not but be highly pleasing to the Divine Ma|jesty, and draw down many Blessings on the Place where they are encouraged.

Phil.

All good Christians must certainly highly approve of, and, to the utmost of their Power, encourage those useful Nurseries of Learning and Piety, which are of the greatest Service for forming the Minds and Manners of Youth, and by which many poor Children have happily been rescued from Poverty, Igno|rance, and Profaneness.

Chapl.

So intent was he on doing good, that he used to give his Steward Orders to enquire

after poor House-Keepers, who had large Fami|lies, or were disabled from Work by Sickness, or any other Casualty: To these he was liberal in such a manner, as even sometimes gave them a Temptation to be glad at those Misfortunes, which were the Occasion of their receiving such uncommon Supplies. He used often to em|ploy me, and another Gentleman who attend|ed on him, in finding out such as were reduced from favourable Circumstances to great Necessi|ty, and fallen from the Hopes of a good For|tune, and liberal Education, to the unspeakable Sorrows of a melancholy Despondency: Such Persons have many times been unexpectedly re|lieved by his Bounty, which has quite chang|ed the Scene, and dressed the gloomy Night-Piece in the softest Airs of the Morning.

Phil.

This Branch of Charity is not the least considerable, in my Opinion: For surely, if we reflect on the sad Condition of those who are fallen from Plenty to Poverty, and from a soft and easy Life, exposed to all the Hard|ships of tempestuous Storms; if we have Pity in our Breasts, we cannot but drop a Tear at the Consideration of such piercing Misfortunes. But I fear I shall, by my Digressions, hinder my|self of hearing such a full Account of Serino, as I desire.

Chapl.

Not at all: Without those, what a great Part of the Entertainment and Profit of our Converse must be lost, and the Time

seem to move heavily? But to go on: So great was his Zeal for the Honour of God, so warm his Passion for the Beauties of Holiness, that he not only contributed largely towards the Re|building divers decayed Churches, but also e|rected a most stately One in his own Parish; upon which he would look with much more Pleasure, than upon that antient and stately Structure in which he dwelt. He has more than once expressed his Approbation of the Conduct of the Romanists in this Particular, That they spare no Costs to adorn their Church|es; which, however, weak Minds may call a useless Pageantry, yet seems very agreeable to those Notions, which both Nature and Reve|lation give us of the Divine Majesty. There is no Person of Distinction among us, but is willing to have his House beautiful and stately; nay, Men of an inferior Rank will be at con|siderable Charges to render their Apartments neat and pleasant: And does it then become us to think that Cost and Labour mis-employ'd, which is spent in adorning the Sacred Temples? 'Tis true, the primitive Christians sometimes worshiped God in Caves, in Fields, and the meanest Rooms you can imagine; and, I fear, to better Purpose, and with greater Ardour of Devotion, than most Christians, now-a-days, in magnificent Churches; yet this was not of Choice, but Necessity: For let some Men think, and say what they please, the noble

Beauty, and solemn Ornaments of a Temple, serve to excite Reverence, and raise Devotion; though, at the same time, it must be confessed, that sincere Worship, performed in the poorest Place, when no better can be obtained, is as grateful to our Creator, as the most tuneful Anthems that resound in gilded Roofs and lofty Arches.

Phil.

I have heard that Serino had one of the finest private Libraries in England, and I can|not but imagine, that a Gentleman of such pe|culiar Accomplishments, must have had a more than ordinary Taste of the politer Parts of Learning, and therefore should be very glad to hear something of his Fancy as to this Matter, and who were his favourite Authors.

Chapl.

He had indeed a large and well-chosen Library, filled with the best Writers on all Subjects; there was his chief Delight, and when he had been out a few Hours a Hunt|ing, or upon some other Diversion, would re|turn to his Study with the greatest Pleasure. He was a very great Admirer of the antient Fathers, and did by no Means approve of the Opinion of some modern Divines (otherwise Men of good Judgment) who set too light by those venerable Remains of pious Antiquity. He seemed, in a more particular manner, to be delighted with the Writings of Origen and St. Chrysostom, tho' divers Authors, very injuri|ously, place the former in their Catalogues of

Hereticks, yet he shines with distinguished Rays amongst the brightest of his Contempo|raries. As to the subtle Volumes of Aquinas, Scotus, Durandus, and the rest of the School|men, he was no great Admirer of them; yet thought the Study of them sometimes necessa|ry. He had, with the utmost Care, examined the Controversy between us and the Church of Rome; and tho' he could not but admire the Learning and smart Turns of Cardinal Bellar|min, and others of their ablest Champions, yet he was so well assured of the Agreeableness of the Protestant Faith to the Holy Scriptures, that there was no more Probability of his re|linquishing it, than of forsaking the first Prin|ciples of Natural Religion: Since he always looked upon the former to be a direct Opposi|tion to the Gospel, both by its superstitious Doctrines, and bloody Maxims; about which, he would sometimes thus express himself, when speaking of the good-natured Church of Rome:

"We cannot but take Notice of such a disa|greeable Image, where the Features are so very grim, and its Garments deeper died with Blood than Paint, where Human Gore hides all the softer Crimson. A strange and monstrous Spectacle, which at once appears gay and horrible, glittering and terrifying, dressed in the beauteous Smiles of an Angel (their gilded Chapels, their dazling Orna|ments, their solemn and pompous Processi|ons)

and cursed with the ghastly Snakes of a persecuting Fury. No Person of common Humanity, can hear of those Barbarities, which the furious Bigots of Rome have com|mitted, without being shocked to the last Degree, and feeling a fresh Pain at the Re|flection on those Cruelties, which were no more than Sport to the inhuman Actors. But how contrary is this to the Christian Religion, which is made up of Love and Sweetness? As is evident from the Divine Anthem which the joyful Angels sung at our Redeemer's Incarnation; Glory be to God on High, on Earth Peace, Good-will to|wards Men."

Phil.

Pray, Sir, what were Serino's Senti|ments concerning Socinus and his Followers; for, if I don't Mistake, I have heard him re|presented by some, as a Favourer of the Raco|vian-Divinity.

Chapl.

This shows what little Regard is due to flying Reports, that are often dispersed without the least Foundation: For as to Soci|nus's Notions concerning our blessed Lord's Divinity, none could be a greater Adversary to them than Serino: He has often lamented, with the greatest Earnestness, that a Person of such Learning, Parts, and Morality, should make such desperate Essays to dethrone the Great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ, who is the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords: He

wondered how he durst presume to represent him as a mere Man,

Whose Goings-forth have been of Old, from the Days of Eternity; and by whom were all Things created that are in Hea|ven, and that are in Earth, Visible and Invisible; whether they be Thrones or Dominions, or Princi|palities or Powers, Col. i. 16.

To him, through|out the Sacred Writings, the Ensigns divinely Royal are every where ascribed:

When he brings his First-begotten into the World, he saith, And let all the Angels of God worship him; And unto the Son he saith, Thy Throne, O God, is for ever, Heb. i. 6,8.

Indeed he used to read some Part of Socinus's Works with great Pleasure; wherein he defends the Liberty of the Will, and the Doctrine of Universal Redemption, and explodes the stoical and ab|surd Opinion of the rigid Predestinarians: But in these Points, Socinus agrees intirely with the Primitive Writers, with the whole Body of the Remonstrants, and even with the most ce|lebrated Divines of our Church. That he was conversant in the Works of Crellius, Volkelius, and others of that Clan, was not with any De|sign to fall into their Scheme; but only to furnish himself with some valuable Flowers that were dispersed among numerous Weeds. I can|not say the same as to his Judgment of the Re|monstrants; for he seemed to go very much into their Scheme, and used to declare that he thought them a Set of Christians, whose pro|fessed

Doctrines were as agreeable to the Apo|stolical and Primitive Rules, as any whatever; and was particularly pleased with that charming Air of Meekness, and Charity, which usually adorns even their Polemical Writings. He admired the Profoundness of Arminius, the Sub|limeness of Episcopius, the Clearness of Limborch, and the Modesty and Learning of Curcellaeus; who were, indeed, among the foremost of his favourite Authors: And well he might, since even a Tillotson, a Scott, a Sherlock, have not disdained, in many Points, to imitate their Manner of Thinking.

Phil.

In this I have the honour exactly to agree with Serino, and have often perused the Writings of those Great Men you just now mentioned, with inexpressible Satisfaction; and once, I remember, Night came upon me una|wares, whilst I was reading a little posthumous Volume of Curcellaeus's, in Answer to Maresius.

Chapl.

I remember, likewise, he was wont to speak of the learned Castalio, with great Re|spect and Pity, that so worthy a Man should be exposed to so much Want, and even expire amidst Neglect and Indigence; but in this (as Serino well observed) he did but follow the Steps of his Great Lord and Master, who had not where to lay his Head, and left the World under Circumstances of Grief and Contempt. Atheistical Wits very often complain of the Meanness of the Style of Holy Writ; let them

read the Bible, either in the Original, or in Castalio's elegant Version, and they cannot pos|sibly, without blushing, mention any more such groundless Objections. Another favou|rite Author of my dear Friend's, was the ad|mired Grotius: He had, also in his Library, a compleat Set of Calvin's Works, in which, some|times, he would spend an Hour or two; but those harsh Positions, and unscriptural Asserti|ons, which he there frequently met with con|cerning God's Decrees, made him only consult them occasionally, and not with that Pleasure which otherwise he might have found in the Writings of a Divine, who was very conside|rable in many other Respects. He thought his Doctrine of absolute Reprobation, wholly in|consistent with all the Attributes of God, and labouring under monstrous Absurdities. Is it possible that the God of infinite Mercy, should resolve from all Eternity, upon the Destructi|on of the far greater Part of Mankind, and yet call upon them, with the most moving Tender|ness, to accept of Happiness? He that believes this Doctrine, and yet scruples to admit the Doctrine of Transubstantiation, may, in some Sense, be said to strain at a Knat, and swallow a Camel; for the latter, absurd as it is, yet is not loaded with those dismal Consequences, as is that of the horrible Decree; which, like the Tail of a Dragon, draws after it a long Train of Darkness and Terror: Insomuch, that Bi|shop

Latimer, in his Sermon on Septuagesima 1552, was so offended at such kind of Do|ctrines, that he tells us, according to his own Plainness (and that of the Times)

"That it is as needful to beware of such Reasonings, and Expositions of the Scripture, as it is to beware of the Devil himself."

And in his Sermon on the following 23d Sunday after Tri|nity, he expressly asserts,

"That Christ shed as much Blood for Judas, as he did for Pe|ter:"

So that we see the Orthodox Doc|trine of Universal Redemption, was then taught in the Church of England, by those who re|sisted unto Blood, striving against the Corrup|tions of the Church of Rome.

Phil.

Pray, Sir, who were his chief Favou|rites among our English Divines?

Chapl.

Bp. Taylor, Archbp. Tillotson, and Dr. Barrow, in whose Writings there appears a rich Variety of Divine Thoughts, dressed in the beautiful Colours of a charming Diction: Not but that he was frequent in the Perusal of all those Great Men of our Church, who have obliged us with their Writings; such as Bishop Stilling fleet, Dr. Sherlock, the Author of The Whole Duty of Man, &c. but I think the Three I mentioned, were, as it were, his Daily Com|panions. He was in constant Communion with the Church of England, and thought it his Duty to comply with her Injunctions, and thereby obey the lawful Commands of his Su|periours.

This Dr. Barrow had taught him in his Discourse of Obedience to our Spiritual Guides and Governours; where he thus speaks:

"Con|sider Obedience, what it is, whence it springs, and what it produceth; each of these Respects will engage us to it: It is in itself a thing very good and acceptable to God, very just and equal, very wise, very comely and pleasant: It cannot but be grate|ful to God, who is the God of Love, of Order and Peace, to see Men do their Du|ty in the Respect perform'd to his own Ministers: It is also a comely and amiable thing, yielding much Grace, procuring great Honour to the Church, highly adorning and crediting Religion."

The whole Discourse deserves to be written in Letters of Gold; but I shall repeat no more of it at present, since I find the Time will not permit us to stay much longer.

Phil.

I cannot, without Regret, leave such agreeable Conversation; but since it must be, I should be very glad if you would please to fa|vour me with a few more miscellaneous Hints concerning this worthy Gentleman.

Chapl.

I shall readily comply with your Re|quest, provided you will excuse my want of Connection and Regularity: It was his Custom every Morning and Evening to sing a Divine Hymn, accompanied not only with several fine Voices, but also with the choicest Instruments.

Particularly every Sunday Morning, the fol|lowing one of the Excellent Mr. Addison, was sung in his Family, and the Harmony impro|ved with the Musick of a curious Organ.

I.

When all thy Mercies, O my God, My rising Soul surveys; Transported with the View, I'm lost In Wonder, Love, and Praise.

II.

O how shall Words with equal Warmth The Gratitude declare, That glows within my ravish'd Heart! But thou canst read it there.

III.

Thy Providence my Life sustain'd, And all my Wants redrest; When in the silent Womb I lay, And hung upon the Breast.

IV.

To all my weak Complaints and Cries, Thy Mercy lent an Ear, E'er yet my feeble Thoughts had learnt To form themselves in Prayer.

V.

Ʋnnumber'd Comforts to my Soul Thy tender Care bestow'd, Before my Infant Heart conceiv'd From whence these Comforts flow'd.

VI.

When in the slippery Paths of Youth With heedless Steps I ran, Thine Arm unseen convey'd me safe, And led me up to Man.

VII.

Thro' hidden Dangers, Toils, and Death, It gently clear'd my Way; And thro' the pleasing Snares of Vice, More to be fear'd than they.

VIII.

When worn with Sickness, oft hast Thou With Health renew'd my Face; And when in Sins and Sorrows sunk, Reviv'd my Soul with Grace.

IX.

Thy bounteous Hand with worldly Bliss Has made my Cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful Friend, Hast doubled all my Store.

X.

Ten Thousand Thousand precious Gifts My daily Thanks employ, Nor is the least a chearful Heart, That tastes those Gifts with Joy.

XI.

Thro' every Period of my Life, Thy Goodness I'll pursue; And after Death, in distant Worlds The glorious Theme renew.

XII.

When Nature fails, and Day and Night Divide thy Works no more, My ever-grateful Heart, O Lord, Thy Mercy shall adore.

XIII.

Thro' all Eternity to Thee, A joyful Song I'll raise; For, O Eternity's too short, To utter all thy Praise.

This Exercise, he thought, was exceeding refreshing to the Spirits, and gave the Thoughts a very agreeable Turn. He was indeed very fond of Musick, and looked upon it to be in its highest Use, when employed to celebrate the Praises of our Creator; not but that some|times he would be diverted with Compositions of another Nature, and smile at the Beauties of a Moral, Politick, or Amorous Song. He was so great an Admirer of Poetry, even in his ten|derest Years, that I remember I have heard him say, that when he was at the Grammar-School, he wrote out all Milton's Paradise Lost very fair; so exceedingly was he delighted with it! He would very often take it with him into the Fields, and by reading it, enjoy a pleasant Se|renity, something like that which the Grove of Eden afforded to its blissful Inhabitants. He was much pleased with Spenser's Fairy-Queen, not|withstanding the best-natured Critick must own,

it is too Allegorical; yet the Variety of amu|sing Images, that adorn his Writings, cannot fail of delighting a Poetical Genius. He always spake of Mr. Cowley as a polite and fine Gentle|man, who seemed as well turned for an Orator as a Poet. He thought Mr. Dryden's Fables much the brightest of all his Performances, tho' his Translation of Virgil is very Smooth and Musical, and some of his Tragedies very Enter|taining. I shall leave this Head of Poetry, when I have taken Notice, that Serino, amongst all other Divine Poems, in which he was very much conversant, approved of none more (Mil|ton excepted) than Sir Richard Blackmore's Crea|tion, Mr. Watts's Horae Lyricae, and Dr. Young's Poem on the Last Day. It was remarkable in Serino, that he was always so sensible of the Ad|vantages of a Country Life above that in the Town, that he would never stay there above a Month in the Year: But when something ex|traordinary has called him from his beloved Seat, he has made all imaginable haste to return; and was of Claudian's Mind, in the agreeable Descrip|tion he has given us of the old Man of Verona.

Faelix qui propriis Aevum transegit in Arvis, &c.

Happy the Man, who his whole Time doth bound. Within th' Enclosure of his little Ground. Happy the Man, whom the same humble Place, (Th' Hereditary-Cottage of his Race) From his first rising Infancy has known, And by Degrees sees gently bending down,

With natural Propension to that Earth, Which both preserv'd his Life, and gave him Birth. Him, no false distant Lights, by Fortune set, Could ever into foolish Wand'rings get. He never Dangers either saw or fear'd: The dreadful Storms at Sea he never heard. He never heard the shrill Alarms of War, Or the worse Noises of the Lawyer's Bar. No change of Consuls marks to him the Year, The change of Seasons is his Calendar. The Cold and Heat Winter and Summer shows, Autumn by Fruits, and Spring by Flow'rs he knows. He measures Time by Land-marks, and has found For the whole Day, the Dial of his Ground. A neighb'ring Wood born with himself he sees, And loves his old Contemporary Trees. H' has only heard of, near, Verona's Name, And knows it, like the Indies, but by Fame. Does with a like Concernment notice take Of the Red-Sea, and of Benacus' Lake. Thus Health and Strength he t'a third Age enjoys, And sees a long Posterity of Boys. About the spacious World let others roam, The Voyage-Life is longest made at Home. Cowley.

He would take Notice, that the Country was so empty, that a true Englishman could not look into it without a great deal of just Pity and Concern, it being a very ungrateful Spectacle to see so many noble Houses mouldring into Ruin, and dropping down, for want of Inhabitants. He has often wondered at some Gentlemen of

his Acquaintance, who used almost to drown those laudable Qualities they were Masters of, in Floods of Wine, and spent a great deal of Time in excessive Drinking; which Vice has very fatal Effects on the Mind of the Person who is devoted to it, not to say that it also wastes his Body, and dissipates his Fortune:

"For (as a polite Gentleman very well ob|serves)* 1.1 as to the Mind, Drunkenness dis|covers every Flaw in it: The sober Man, by the Strength of Reason, may keep un|der, and subdue every Vice or Folly, to which he is most inclined; but Wine makes every latent Seed sprout up in the Soul, and shew itself: It gives Fury to the Passions, and Force to those Objects which are apt to produce them. When a young Fellow com|plained to an old Philosopher, that his Wife was not handsome; "Put less Water in your Wine, says the Philosopher, and you will quickly make her so. Wine heightens Indif|ference into Love, Love into Jealousy, and Jealousy into Madness; it often turns the good-natured Man into an Ideot, and the Cholerick into an Assassin; it gives Bitter|ness to Resentment; it makes Vanity insup|portable, and displays every little Spot of the Soul in its utmost Deformity. Nor does

this Vice only betray the hidden Faults of a Man, and shew them in the most odious Colours, but often occasions Faults, to which he is not naturally subject. There is more of Turn than of Truth in a Saying of Se|neca, That Drunkenness does not produce, but discover Faults; common Experience teaches us the contrary. Wine throws a Man out of himself, and infuses Qualities into the Mind, which she is a Stranger to in her sober Moments. The Person you con|verse with after the third Bottle, is not the same Man who at first sat down at Table with you. Upon this Maxim is founded a pretty Saying of Publius Syrus; Qui ebrium ludificat, laedit absentem: He who jests upon a Man who is drunk, injures the Absent. Thus does Drunkenness act in direct Con|tradiction to Reason, whose Business it is to clear the Mind of every Vice which is crept into it, and to guard it against all the Ap|proaches of any that Endeavours to make its Entrance. But besides these ill Effects which this Vice produces in the Person who is actually under its Dominion, it has also a bad Influence on the Mind, even in its sober Moments; as it insensibly weakens the Un|derstanding, impairs the Memory, and makes those Faults habitual, which are produced by frequent Excesses."

Serino was well aware of this, and therefore strictly guarded

against all Excesses of this kind. Another pre|vailing Vice of the Age, which he kept at a Distance from, and was extreamly uneasy when in any Company where it was practised, was the modish Rant of Oaths and Imprecations, it being an ungenteel Dialect, as well as un|christian, and clashes both with the Rules of Breeding, and the Gospel. The Folly of them is thus admirably described by a considerable Master of Learning and Language:

"Custom, indeed (says he) has made them fashionable, but neither civil nor lawful; for Vice can never plead Prescription: I know it lies un|der the Protection of Numbers and Quali|ty; but ill Things have no Right to San|ctuary. Because Vermin swarm, must they be permitted to Increase? Shall the Number of Felons plead for Pardon? No, no; the Customariness of ill Things makes them worse, and the more they must be discoun|tenanced, and taught Discipline. In a word, whatever jars with Religion, and cuts upon good Breeding, is below a Gentleman; and therefore, in spight of Example and Practice, I must caution young Gentlemen against some Parts of English Civility; for though they go for Consent in the English Domini|ons, they will not bear the Test of other Nations. For Example: Damn ye, says one, I am glad to see you. Is not this a quaint Sa|lutation, first to pack me away to Hell, and

then protest he is glad to see me so conveni|ently lodged? What Provision will these Blades make for their Enemies, if they place their Friends so untowardly? Certainly they fancy Hell is a fine Seat, and that the Damned are in a fair Way of Promotion. Damn ye, ye Dog, how dost do? Cries another: This feat Compliment implies Damnation and Transformation too; it's a Compound of Curse and Raillery, I am plunged into Hell, dashed out of the List of Rationals, and then with a Taunt asked how I do. Why, a Man in Fire and Brimstone is not altoge|ther at his Ease; and a reasonable Creature, curst into a Dog, not very fond of the Me|tamorphosis. A third very ungenteelly ac|costs a Friend, he has not, perhaps, seen of a Twelve-month; Ye Son of a Whore, where have you been? This is an English Address to a tittle; it is a kind of Staple Commodi|ty of the Nation, and, like our Wooll, must not be transported, under Pain of Confisca|tion. But surely we need not lay so severe an Embargo on the Ware, for 'tis ten to one 'twill never find vent in any other Na|tion on this Side of the Canaries; a handful of Dirt, well applied, is as civil a Compli|ment, though not quite so cleanly. Son of a Whore! There is Abundance of Freedom in the Expression, but not a Grain of Breed|ing; unless you measure Behaviour by the

Dialect of Billingsgate and the Bear-Garden. Certainly these Gentlemen are Admirers of Charity, why else do they dignify Whore|dom? For Whore stands for a Mark of Qua|lity, a distinguishing Character; otherwise the Salutation would appear coarse and home|ly: But, by their leave, few are in Love with Cross-bars, and to be Brother to a Bye-blow, is to be a Bastard once removed. I know we fling a Veil on these Expressions, and wash over their Foulness with fair Pre|tences. Damn ye (says one) and Son of a Whore stand merely for Cyphers, or only serve to enliven a Period, and to make the Expression more blustering: I confess Whore and Damnation are near a-kin, and often go together; but for all that, the Silliness of the Excuse, can't stifle the monstrous Inci|vility of the Compliment; for though it signifies nothing to him who receives it, in good time it will signify much to him who spoke it; for though a Friend may let such Curses fall to the Ground, God will put them to Account; and though they stand for Cyphers in England, they may purchase Eternal Torments in Hell. They are, says another, Marks of English Familiarity; pure Sallies of Kindness, and Demonstrations of Friendship. No doubt, to deliver over to Satan an old Acquaintance, without asking his Consent to the Conveyance, is Freedom

with a Vengeance; but at which End of the Compliment is his Kindness? In short, such Expressions grate the Organ, and turn the very Faculty of Hearing into a Burthen; they are high Symptoms of a lewd Inclina|tion, and of a depraved Complexion; for when the Breath smells rank, the Stomach is infected: In short, such a Jargon is a Breach of Civility, it is a rustick Cant, an uncredirable Dialect; nor is the whole Posse of Bullies able to enoble it".

Persons of great Fortunes, are tempted to Pride and Haughtiness; therefore Serino laboured by all Means to obtain that excellent Virtue of Hu|mility: And was so happy as not to miss of his Design, nor lose his Labour; for, I be|lieve, no Man, in his Circumstances, was ever of a more meek and humble Spirit. There is an admirable Sentence in Holy Writ, which says, that Pride was not made for Man: There is not, indeed, any single View of Human Nature, under its present Condition, which is not sufficient to extinguish in us all the secret Seeds of Pride; and on the contrary, to sink the Soul into the lowest State of Humility, and what the School-men call Self-Annihilation: There is nothing in his Understanding, his Will, or in his present Condition, that can tempt any considerate Creature to Pride or Va|nity; and yet the very Reasons why he should not be proud, are, notwithstanding, the Rea|sons

why he is so. Were he not a sinful Crea|ture, he would not be subject to a Passion which rises from the Depravity of his Nature; were he not an ignorant Creature, he would see he has nothing to be proud of: And were not the whole Species miserable, he would not have those wretched Objects of Comparison before his Eyes, which are the Occasions of this Passion, and make one Man value himself more than another. But, methinks, the In|stability of Human Affairs, the Turns and Vi|cissitudes of Fortune, and the sudden Falls from the most swoln Ambition, are Subjects which ought to discountenance Pride. Shakespeare has an admirable Passage on this Head, (spoken by Wolsey in Henry VIII.) which Serino used of|ten to repeat.

Farewel; a long Farewel to all my Greatness! This is the State of Man; to-day he puts forth The tender Leaves of Hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing Honours thick upon him: The third Day comes a Frost, a killing Frost; And when he thinks, good easy Man, full surely His Greatness is a ripening, nips his Root, And then he falls as I do. I have ventur'd (Like little wanton Boys that swim on Bladders) This many a Summer in a Sea of Glory; But far beyond my Depth, my high-blown Pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary, and old with Service, to the Mercy Of a rude Stream, that must for ever hide me.

He had improved his natural Parts (which were indeed extraordinary) not only by hard Studies, but also by his Travels. Upon his return from which, he often, with an inex|pressible Pleasure, would repeat the following Ode; for which the polite World is obliged to the incomparable Mr. Addison.

I.

How are thy Servants blest, O Lord! How sure is their Defence! Eternal Wisdom is their Guide, Their Help Omnipotence.

II.

In foreign Realms, and Lands remote, Supported by thy Care, Thro' burning Climes I pass'd unhurt, And breath'd in Tainted Air.

III.

Thy Mercy sweeten'd every Soil, Made every Region please, The hoary Alpine-Hills it warm'd, And smooth'd the Tyrrhene-Seas.

IV.

Think, O my Soul, devoutly think, How with affrighted Eyes, Thou saw'st the wide extended Deep, In all its Horrors rise.

V.

Confusion dwelt in every Face, And Fear in every Heart; When Waves on Waves, and Gulphs on Gulphs O'ercame the Pilot's Art.

VI.

Yet then from all My Griefs, O Lord, Thy Mercy set me free, Whilst in the Confidence of Prayer, My Soul took hold on Thee.

VII.

For tho' in dreadful Whirles we hung, High on the broken Wave, I knew thou wert not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save.

VIII.

The Storm was laid, the Winds retir'd, Obedient to thy Will; The Sea, that roar'd at thy Command, At thy Command was still.

IX.

In midst of Dangers, Fears, and Death, Thy Goodness I'll adore; And praise Thee for thy Mercies past, And humbly hope for more.

X.

My Life, if thou preserv'st my Life, Thy Sacrifice shall be; And Death, if Death must be my Doom, Shall join my Soul to Thee.

In fine, Serino was a Person in whom united Virtues shone with promiscuous Beauty: His Fortitude, his Chastity, his Prudence, were as remarkable as his Temperance and Humility; but above all, Charity was the Virtue that con|stantly shone with superiour Brightness, and gave a charming Lustre to all his Actions. A few Weeks before his Death, he sent a Thousand Guineas to the Society for propagating the Go|spel in Foreign Parts; which Design he always looked upon as most Noble and Excellent: At the same time he observed, that the scandalous Divisions of Christians was a great Hindrance to that good Work.

"How pernicious is it (would he often say) to hear such a Variety of contrary Opinions maintained in Christen|dom, and the Belief of most of them impo|sed on us by their zealous Propagators, under Pain of Eternal Damnation! Should a poor Indian, desirous to be instructed in the My|steries of the Gospel, make his Application to one of the Society of Jesus, as the most proper Person to give him Information in those weighty Matters, since he not only goes under the common Name of a Christi|an, but as one peculiarly devoted to the Ser|vice of his Great Master, is stiled a Jesuit, a Servant of the Blessed Jesus; we will sup|pose the Jesuit to acquaint him with the Dignity and Glory of the Roman Catholick Church, and particularly of his Holiness the

Pope, who, as St. Peter's Successor, is (as he tells him) appointed by Christ, whose Vice-gerent and Representative he is, to be the infallible Head of the Christian World, and Center of Gospel-Unity; that all are bound to obey him, and Disobedience to his Injunctions is no less a Crime, than a Rebel|lion against the Authority of Heaven: He farther informs him of that inconceivable Mystery of Transubstantiation, and assures him, that in the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar, he may eat the real Flesh of his Re|deemer, and swallow down the Deity he is about to adore: He will, doubtless, give him some Instructions concerning the Ado|ration of Saints and Angels, and the Vene|ration due to Images and Reliques: The New Convert may likewise hear the Do|ctrines of Purgatory, Auricular Confession, and Indulgences, repeated to him with great Earnestness and Solemnity. The poor Man having thus patiently attended to a long Dis|course of the Christian Religion, goes away rejoicing, and blesses the happy Moment in which he became acquainted with such sub|lime and charming Mysteries, and was made sensible of the Darkness and Ignorance of his former State, in which he had been so often debased by the most stupid and idolatrous Practices. But supposing this Convert to fall into the Company of some learned Pro|testants,

and hear them Dispute of Matters of Faith; how very much surprized must he needs be, to find that a great Part of those Doctrines, which he had so eagerly and joy|fully embraced, were not indeed the Dictates of Christ or his Followers, but the wretched and empty Contrivances of crafty Politici|ans? That the beauteous and lovely System, which he viewed with the deepest Pleasure and Admiration, dissolves, and is lost in Air, and he can see no more the transient Beauties of his glorious Vision. Now what shall this Man do? Continue in his present Faith he cannot, with any Satisfaction, since he has heard such evident Reasons against it; and suppose he resolves to forsake his first Scheme, and attend to the Instructions of a Protestant Guide, there are such various O|pinions even amongst them, that he is in doubt which Party to apply himself to, whilst, with trembling, he hears them loudly condemning each other".

Serino did not take Notice of this with any Design to favour a sceptical Humour, or a certain awkard Me|thod of ranging one's Thoughts, which is new|ly called (by an evident Catechresis) Free-Think|ing; his Aim was only to know the dismal Ef|fects of Divisions in the Church of Christ, which as they proceed from a scandalous Neg|lect of the plainest Rules of the Gospel, so

might they be effectually cured, would Chri|stians but read and consider those earnest Ex|hortations to Meekness and Unity, with half that Calmness, in which they were delivered by the Glorious Author of our Salvation: Could they but once be persuaded to lay aside their furious and inordinate Passions, to quit their corrupt and sinister Designs; would they but make themselves so happy, as to resolve to value a plain Direction of our Blessed Lord, before a thousand quaint Glosses and needless Injunctions: Then would Joy and Peace a|bound, and ever-blooming Beauties adorn the Sacred Temple. The Winter being thus hap|pily past, and the Rain over and gone, the Time of Singing-Birds would soon commence, and every Christian be refreshed with the charming Musick of the Turtle. But the Circumstances of our mourning Family call for my Presence; I can therefore only add, that when he was apprehensive of approaching Death, instead of sinking in Sorrow, he en|tertained himself with recounting the many Mercies he had received through his whole Life; and called me to him, to read a Hymn, composed by the inimitable Mr. Addison un|der an Indisposition: And when I came to this Verse,

O how shall Words with equal Warmth The Gratitude declare, That glows within my ravish'd Heart! But thou canst read it there:

He desired me to repeat it, and seemed tran|sported with the Fervours of grateful Devotion. He was also then well pleased to hear me read the whole to him.

I.

When rising from the Bed of Death, O'erwhelm'd with Guilt and Fear, I see my Maker Face to Face; O how shall I appear!

II.

If yet, while Pardon may be found, And Mercy may be sought, My Heart with inward Horror shrinks, And trembles at the Thought:

III.

When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd In Majesty severe, And sit in Judgment on my Soul; O how shall I appear!

IV.

But Thou hast told the troubled Soul, Who does her Sins lament, The timely Tribute of her Tears Shall endless Woe prevent.

V.

Then see the Sorrows of my Heart, E'er yet it be too late, And add my Saviour's dying Groans, To give those Sorrows weight.

VI.

For never shall my Soul despair Her Pardon to procure, Who knows Thy Only Son has dy'd To make that Pardon sure.

In a word, he lived as I fain would live, and he died as I fain would die. By his last Will, he left abundance of charitable Legacies, and has given the Bulk of his Estate to a young Gentleman, whose Misfortunes had been repre|sented to him as very particular; and though he was not acquainted with him, yet reflected with Pleasure, some Days before he died, on the agreeable Surprize which the young Gen|tleman would be in, at the hearing such wel|come News.

Phil.

Pray, Sir, whereabouts dwells the Gen|tleman, who is thus unexpectedly Master of so considerable an Estate?

Chapl.

In a little Village, about twelve Miles off: His Name is Philindus.

Phil.

Are you sure of that, Sir?

Chapl.

Yes; one of our Family is gone this Morning to acquaint him with it.

Phil.

He will not find him at Home; for, according to your Description, I must be the very Man. I do earnestly desire you to con|tinue with me, as you did with Serino; and if at any time you see me acting contrary to his bright Example, be so kind as to give me those severe Reproofs, which are due to Negligence and Ingratitude. And now, since after all my Trouble and Sorrow, there begins to rise a new and brighter Scene, I hope always to retain the most tender and grateful Sentiments of the Di|vine Compassion; and cannot forbear expres|sing myself in the beautiful Expressions of the Royal Psalmist, as Paraphrased by Mr. Addi|son, to whom we owe all the Poetick Beauties that have ran through our Discourse.

I.

The Lord my Pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a Shepherd's Care; His Presence shall my Wants supply, And guard me with a watchful Eye: My Noon-day Walks he shall attend, And all my Mid-night Hours defend.

II.

When in the sultry Glebe I faint, Or on the thirsty Mountain pant; To fertile Vales and dewy Meads My weary wand'ring Steps he leads: Where peaceful Rivers, soft and slow, Amid the verdant Landscape flow.

III.

Tho' in the Paths of Death I tread, With gloomy Horrors overspread, My stedfast Heart shall fear no Ill, For thou, O Lord, art with me still; Thy friendly Crook shall give me Aid, And guide me thro' the dreadful Shade.

IV.

Tho' in a bare and rugged Way, Thro' devious lonely Wilds I stray, Thy Bounty shall my Wants beguile, Thy barren Wilderness shall smile, With sudden Greens and Herbage crown'd, And Streams shall murmur all around.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  See, a Spectator of Mr. Addison's.