But, before I do this, I shall exonerate the first Quakers from the charge of such a depreciation. These exhibited in their own persons the practicability of the union of knowledge and virtue. While they were eminent for their learning, they were distinguished for the piety of their lives. They were indeed the friends of both. They did not patronize the one to the prejudice and expulsion of the other.[53]
[Footnote 53: George Fox was certainly an exception to this as a scholar. He was also not friendly to cla.s.sical learning on account of some of the indelicate pa.s.sages contained in the cla.s.sical authors, which he and Farley and Stubbs, took some pains to cite, but, if these had been removed, I believe his objections would have ceased.]
Barclay, in his celebrated apology, no where condemns the propriety or usefulness of human learning, or denies it to be promotive of the temporal comforts of man. He says that the knowledge of Latin, Greek and Hebrew, or of logic and philosophy, or of ethics, or of physics and metaphysics, is not necessary. But not necessary for what? Mark his own meaning. Not necessary to make a minister of the Gospel. But where does he say that knowledge, which he himself possessed to such a considerable extent, was not necessary, or that it did not contribute to the innocent pleasures of life? What would have been the character of his own book, or what would have been its comparative value and usefulness, if he had not been able to quote so many authors to his purpose in their original texts, or to have detected so many cla.s.sical errors, or to have introduced such apposite history, or to have drawn up his propositions with so much logical and mathematical clearness and precision, or if he had not been among the first literary characters of his day?
William Penn was equally celebrated with Barclay as a scholar. His works afford abundant proof of his erudition, or of the high cultivation of his mind. Like the rest of his a.s.sociates, he was no advocate for learning, as a qualification for a minister of the Gospel, but he was yet a friend to it, on the principle, that it enlarged the understanding, and that it added to the innocent pleasures of the mind.
He entreated his wife, in the beautiful letter which he left her, before he embarked on his first voyage to America, "not to be sparing of expence in procuring learning for his children, for that by such parsimony all was lost that was saved." And he recommended also in the same letter the mathematical or philosophical education which I have described.
Thomas Ellwood, a celebrated writer among the early Quakers, and the friend of the great John Milton, was so sensible of the disadvantages arising from a want of knowledge, that he revived his learning, with great industry, even after he had become a Quaker. Let us hear the account which he gives of himself in his own Journal. "I mentioned before, says he, that, when I was a boy, I made some progress in learning, and that I lost it all again before I came to be a man. Nor was I slightly sensible of my last therein, till I came amongst the Quakers. But then I both saw my loss, and lamented it; and applied myself with the utmost diligence, at all leisure times to recover it. So false I found that charge to be, which in those times was east as a reproach upon the Quakers, that they despised and decried all human learning, because they denied it to be essentially necessary to a Gospel ministry, which was one of the controversies of those times."
"But though I toiled hard, and spared no pains to regain what I had once been master of, yet I found it a matter of so great difficulty, that I was ready to say, as the n.o.ble eunuch to Philip, in another case, how can I, unless I had some man to guide me?"
"This I had formerly complained of to my especial friend Isaac Pennington, but now more earnestly; which put him upon considering and contriving a means for my a.s.sistance."
"He had an intimate acquaintance with Dr. Paget, a physician of note in London, and he with John Milton, a gentleman of great note for learning, throughout the learned world, for the accurate pieces he had Written on various subjects and occasions."
"This person, having filled a public station in the former times, lived now a private and retired life in London; and, having wholly lost his sight, kept always a man to read to him, which usually was the son of some gentleman of his acquaintance, whom in kindness he took to improve in his learning."
"Thus by the mediation of my friend Isaac Pennington with Dr. Paget, and of Dr. Paget with John Milton, was I admitted to come to him; not as a servant to him (which at that time he needed not) nor to be in the house with him; but only to have the liberty of coming to his house at certain hours, when I would, and to read to him what books he should appoint me, which was all the favour I desired."
By means of this extract, made from the life of Thomas Ellwood, we come to three conclusions. First, that the early Quakers were generally men of eminent learning. Secondly, that they did not decry or depreciate human knowledge. And thirdly, that the calumny of such a depreciation by them arose from the controversy which they thought it right to maintain, in which they denied it to be necessary as a qualification for a Gospel minister.
This latter conclusion brings me round again to the point. And here I must observe, that, though this famous controversy occasioned the first Quakers to be unduly blamed on account of such a depreciation, yet it contributed to make some of their immediate successors, as I stated in a former volume, justly chargeable with it. But whether this was or was not the real cause, it is not material to the question. Many of the society, from came cause or other, did undoubtedly, in the age immediately succeeding that of their founders, begin to depreciate human knowledge, the effects of which, though gradually dissipating, have not been wholly done away at the present day. The disadvantages, therefore, of human learning, or the arguments which would be advanced against it by those who may undervalue it, I shall now consider.
These arguments may be divided into particular and general. On the former I shall first speak.
A cla.s.sical education is considered to be objectionable, first, on account of the Heathen mythology that is necessarily connected with it.
Its tendency, as it relates to fabulous occurrences, is thought to be unfavourable, as it may lead to a romantic propensity, and a turn for fiction. But surely the meaning of such occurrences cannot be well mistaken. If they are represented to our view in fable, they have had their foundation in truth. Many of them again are of such importance, that we could not wish to see them annihilated. Let us refer, for example, to the story of Deucalion and Pyrrha. Is it not one among the many outward confirmations of the truth of the history of Moses? Or do we not trace in it additional proofs of the deluge, and of the renewal of mankind?
Its tendency again, as it relates to the fabulous history of the Heathen G.o.ds, their number, their offices, and their character, is considered as degrading and exceptionable. I will concede this for a moment. But may it not, on the other hand, be rendered instructive and useful? May not the retention of such an history be accompanied with great moral advantages to our children? The emperor Theodosius commanded the idol temples to be destroyed. Instead of devoting them to the use of the Christians of those times, by which they might have been preserved to future generations, the most beautiful remains of antiquity were reduced to ruins. But would it not have been better, if Theodosius had brought good out of evil by retaining them? Would it not have been a high moral gratification to those who knew the fact, that temples, appropriated to the worship of idols, had been devoted to the service of the only true G.o.d? Would it not have been a matter of joy to these to have reflected upon the improving condition of mankind? And, while they looked up to these beautiful structures of art, might not the sight of them have contributed to the incitement of their virtue? If it be the tendency of the corrupt part of our nature to render innocent things vicious, it is, on the other hand, in the essence of our nature to render vicious things in process of time innocent, so that the very remnants of idolatry may be made subservient to our moral improvement.
"If, as I observed in the first volume, we were to find an alter which had been sacred to Moloch, but which had been turned into a stepping-stone to help the aged and infirm upon their horses, why should we destroy it? Might it not be made useful to our morality, as for as it could be made to excite sorrow for the past and grat.i.tude for the present?" And in the same manner the retention of the Heathen mythology might be made serviceable. Ought it not, whenever we contemplate it, to make us thankful, that we have not the dark and cheerless path of our ancestors to tread; that we have clearer light; that we have surer prospects; that we have a steadier ground of hope; and ought we not, on a contemplation of these superior advantages, brought to us by revelation, to be roused into the practice of a superior virtue.
Cla.s.sical education again is considered as objectionable by the Quakers on account of the Heathen notions, which it may spread. Thus the highest reputation of man is placed in deeds of martial achievement, and a martial ardour is in consequence infused into youth, which it is difficult to suppress. That such notions and effect are produced, there can be no doubt; but how are we to avoid these whilst we are obliged to live in the world? The expulsion of the cla.s.sics would not expel them.
Our own newspapers, which are open to all, spread the same opinions, and are instrumental of course in producing the same excitements, but they do it in a much more objectionable way than the cla.s.sical authors, that is, they do it with less delicacy, and with a more sanguinary applause.
But where, as I observed before, shall we retire from such impressions?
Does not the recruiting drum propagate them in all our towns? Do not the ringing of the bells, and the illuminations, which occasionally take place in the time of war, propagate them also? And do we not find these, both in war and in peace, the sentiments and impressions of the world?
Our own notions then, our own writings, and our own customs, are more to be blamed in this respect, than the literary compositions of ancient times. But this, of all others, ought to be least an objection with the Quakers to such an education; because, to their honour, they have a constant counteraction of the effects of such sentiments and impressions in the principles of their own const.i.tution, and which counteraction cannot cease, while, by the bearing of their testimony, they live in a continual protest against them.
The last objection to a cla.s.sical education is, that the system of the Heathen morality is generally too deficient for those who are to be brought up as Christians. To this I answer, that it is quite as good as the system of the morality of the world. I could procure purer sentiments, and this generally from the Heathen authors usually called[54] cla.s.sical, than I can collect from many, even of the admired publications of our own times. The morality of the heathens is not so deficient as many have imagined. If their best opinions were duly selected and brought into one view, the only matter of surprise would be, how, with no other than the law written upon the heart, they had made such sublime discoveries. It was princ.i.p.ally in their theology, where the law written upon the heart could not reach, that the ancients were deficient. They knew but little of the one true G.o.d. They did not know that he was a Spirit, and that he was to be worshiped in spirit and in truth. They were ignorant of his attributes. They had learnt nothing of the true origin, nature, and condition of man, or of the scheme of creation and redemption. These things were undoubtedly hidden from the eyes of the ancient philosophers. And it was in knowledge of this kind chiefly, that their deficiency was apparent. But how is this particular deficiency detrimental to youth, or how rather might it not be rendered useful to them in the way described? What a sublime contrast does knowledge, as exhibited by revelation, afford to the ignorance of those times, and what joy and grat.i.tude ought we not to feel in the comparison? And this is the only use which can be made of their mythology? For when we send youth to the cla.s.sical authors, we send them to learn the languages, and this through a medium where the morality is both useful and respectable, but we do not send them, living where the blessings of revelation are enjoyed, to be instructed in religion.
[Footnote 54: It must however be acknowledged, that, amidst beautiful sentiments, such as are indelicate are occasionally interspersed. But the quakers might remedy this objection by procuring a new edition of the purest cla.s.sics only, in which particular pa.s.sages might be omitted.
They might also add new Latin notes, founded on Christian principles, where any ideas were found to be incorrect, and thus make Heathenism itself useful, as a literal teacher of a moral system. The world, I believe, would be obliged to the Quakers for such an edition, and it would soon obtain in most of the schools of the kingdom.]
The princ.i.p.al argument against a philosophical education, which is the next subject for consideration, is, that men, who cultivate such studies, require often more proofs of things than can always be had, and that, if these are wanting, they suspend their belief. And as this is true in philosophy, so it may be true in religion. Hence persons accustomed to such pursuits, are likely to become sceptics or infidels.
To this I answer, that the general tendency of philosophy is favourable to religion. Its natural tendency is to give the mind grand and sublime ideas, and to produce in it a belief of the existence of one great cause, which is not visible among men. Thus, for example, I find that the planets perform a certain round! They perform it with a certain velocity. They do not wander at random, but they are kept to their orbits. I find the forces which act upon them for this purpose. I find, in short, that they are subject to certain laws. Now, if the planets were living agents, they might have prescribed these laws to themselves.
But I know that this, when I believe them to consist of material substances, is impossible. If then, as material substances, they are subject to laws, such laws must have been given them. There must have been some lawgiver. In this manner then I am led to some other great, and powerful, and invisible Agent or Cause. And here it may be observed, that if philosophers were ever baffled in their attempts at discovery, or in their attempts after knowledge, as they frequently are, they would not, on this account, have any doubt with respect to the being of a G.o.d.
If they had found, after repeated discoveries, that the ideas acquired from thence were repeatedly or progressively sublime, and that they led repeatedly or progressively to a belief of the existence of a superior Power, is it likely that they would all at once discard this belief, because there researches were unsuccessful? If they were to do this, they would do it against all the rules of philosophizing, and against the force of their own habits. I say, that a.n.a.logical is a part of philosophical reasoning, and that they would rather argue, that, as such effects had been uniformly produced, so they would probably still be produced, if their researches were crowned with success. The tendency then of philosophical knowledge is far otherwise than has been supposed.
And it makes highly in favour of the study of these sciences, that those who have cultivated them the most, such as Newton, and Boyle, and others, have been found among the ablest advocates for religion.[55]
[Footnote 55: I by no means intend to say, that philosophy leads to the religion called Christianity, but that it does to Theism, which is the foundation of it.]
I come now, to the general arguments used by the Quakers against human learning, the first of which is, that they who possess it are too apt to reduce religion to reason, and to strip it of the influence of the Spirit. But this is contrary, as a general position, to all fact. We find no mention of this in history. The fathers of the church were the most eminent for learning in their own days, and these insisted upon the Influence of the Spirit in spiritual concerns, as one of the first articles of their faith. The reformers, who succeeded these, were men of extensive erudition also, and acknowledged the same great principle. And nine-tenths, I believe, of the Christians of the present, day, among whom we ought to reckon nine-tenths of the men of learning also, adopt a similar creed.
Another general argument is, that learning is apt to lead to conceit and pride, or to a presumed superiority of intellect, in consequence of which men raise themselves in their own estimation, and look down upon others as creatures of an inferior order of race. To this I may answer, that as prodigies are daily produced in nature, though they may be but as one to a hundred thousand when compared with the perfect things of their own kind, so such phenomena may occasionally make their appearance in the world. But as far as my own experience goes, I believe the true tendency of learning to be quite the reverse. I believe the most learned to be generally the most humble, and to be the most sensible of their own ignorance. Men, in the course of their studies, daily find something new. Every thing new shews them only their former ignorance, and how much there is yet to learn. The more they persevere, in their researches, the more they acknowledge the latter fact. The longer they live, the more they lament the shortness of life, during which, man with all his industry, can attain so little, and that, when he is but just beginning to know, he is cut off. They see, in short, their own nothingness, and, however they may be superior in their attainments, they are convinced that their knowledge is, after all, but a shadow; that it is but darkness; that it is but the absence of light; and that it no sooner begins to a.s.sume an appearance than it is gone.
The last general argument against learning is, that it does not lead to morality, or that learned men do not always exhibit an example of the best character. In answer to this I must observe, that the natural tendency of learning is to virtue. If learned men are not virtuous, I presume their conduct is an exception to the general effect of knowledge upon the mind. That there are, however, persons of such unnatural character, I must confess. But any deficiency in their example is not to be attributed to their learning. It is to be set down, on the other hand, to the morally defective education they have received. They have not been accustomed to wise restraints. More pains have been taken to give them knowledge, than to instruct them in religion. But where an education has been bestowed upon persons, in which their morals have been duly attended to, where has knowledge been found to be at variance, or rather where has it not been found to be in union, with virtue? Of this union the Quakers can trace some of the brightest examples in their own society. Where did knowledge, for instance, separate herself from religion in Barclay, or in Penn, or in Burroughs, or in Pennington, or in Ellwood, or in Arscott, or in Claridge, or in many others who might be named. And as this has been the case in the Quaker society, where a due care has been taken of morals, so it has been the case where a similar care has been manifested in the great society of the world.
"Piety has found Friends In the friends of Science, and true pray"r Has flow"d from lips wet with Castalian dews.
Such was thy wisdom, Newton, childlike sage!
Sagacious reader of the works of G.o.d, And in his word sagacious. Such too thine, Milton, whose genius had angelic wings, And fed on manna. And such thine, in whom Our British Themis gloried with just cause, Immortal Hale! for deep discernment prais"d And sound integrity not more, than fam"d For sanct.i.ty of manners undefil"d." Cowper.
It appears then, if I have reasoned properly, that the arguments usually adduced against the acquisition of human knowledge are but of little weight. If I have reasoned falsely upon this subject, so have the early Quakers. As they were friends to virtue, so they were friends to science. If they have at any time put a low estimate upon the latter, it has been only as a qualification for a minister of the Gospel. Here they have made a stand. Here they have made a discrimination. But I believe it will no where be found, that they have denied, either that learning might contribute to the innocent pleasures of life, or that it might be made a subordinate and auxiliary instrument towards the promotion of virtue.
CHAP. VII.
_Conclusion of the work--Conclusionary remarks divided into two kinds--First, as they relate to those who may have had thoughts of leaving the society--Advantages, which these may have proposed to themselves by such a change--These advantages either religious or temporal--The value of them considered._
Having now gone through all the subjects, which I had prescribed to myself at the beginning of this work, I purpose to close it. But as it should be the wish of every author to render his production useful, I shall add a few observations for this purpose. My remarks then, which will be thus conclusory, relate to two different sorts of persons. They will relate, first, to those who may have had thoughts of leaving the society, or, which is the same thing, who persist in a course of irregularities, knowing beforehand, and not regretting it, that they shall be eventually disowned. It will relate, secondly, to all other persons, or to those who may be called the world. To the former I shall confine my attention in this chapter.
I have often heard persons of great respectability, and these even in the higher circles of life, express a wish, that they had been brought up as Quakers. The steady and quiet deportment of the members of this society, the ease with which they appear to get through life, the simplicity and morality of their character, were the causes which produced the expression of such a wish. "But why then, I have observed, if you feel such a disposition as this wish indicates, do you not become Quakers?" "Because, it has been replied, we are too old to be singular.
Dressing with sufficient simplicity ourselves, we see no good reason for adopting the dress of the society. It would be as foolish in us to change the colour and fashion of our clothing, as it would be criminal in the Quakers, with their notions, to come to the use of that which belongs to us. Endeavouring also to be chaste in our conversation, we cannot adopt their language. It would be as inconsistent in us to speak after the manner of the Quakers, as it would be inconsistent in them to leave their own language for ours. But we wish we had been born Quakers.
And, if we had been born Quakers, we would never have deserted the society."
Perhaps they to whom I shall confine my remarks in this chapter, are not aware, that such sentiments as these are floating in the minds of many.
They are not aware, that it is considered as one of the strongest things for those who have been born in the society, and been accustomed to its particularities, to leave it. And least of all are they aware of the worthless motives, which the world attributes to them for an intended separation from it.
There is, indeed, something seemingly irreconcileable in the thought of such a dereliction or change. To leave the society of a moral people, can it be a matter of any credit? To diminish the number of those who protest against war, and who have none of the guilt upon their heads of the sanguinary progress of human destruction which is going on in the world, is it desirable, or rather, ought it not to be a matter of regret? And to leave it at a time, when its difficulties are over, is it a proof of a wise and a prudent choice? If persons had ever had it in contemplation to leave the society in its most difficult and trying times, or in the days of its persecution, when only for the adoption of innocent singularities its members were insulted, and beaten, and bruised, and put in danger of their lives, it had been no matter of surprise: but to leave it, when all prejudices against them are gradually decreasing, when they are rising in respectability in the eyes of the government under which they live, and when, by the weight of their own usefulness and character, they are growing in the esteem of the world, is surely a matter of wonder, and for which it is difficult to account.
This brings me to the point in question, or to the examination of those arguments, which may at times have come into the heads of those who have had thoughts of ceasing to be members of this society.
In endeavouring to discover these, we can only suppose them to be actuated by one motive, for no other will be reasonable, namely, that they shall derive advantages from the change. Now all advantages are resolvable into two kinds, into such as are religious, and into such as are temporal. The first question then is, what advantages do they gain in the former case, or do they actually come into the possession of a better religion?
I am aware that to enter into this subject, though but briefly, is an odious task. But I shall abstain from all comparisons, by which I might offend any. If I were to be asked which, among the many systems of the Christian religion, I should prefer, I should say, that I see in all of them much to admire, but that no one of them, perhaps, does wholly, or in every part of it, please me; that is, there is no one, in which I do not see some little difficulty, which I cannot solve, though this is no impediment to my faith. But, if I were pressed more particularly upon this point, I should give the following answer. I should say, that I should prefer that, which, first of all, would solve the greatest number of difficulties, as far as scriptural texts were concerned, in conformity with the Divine attributes, which, secondly, would afford the most encouraging and consolatory creed, if it were equally well founded with any other; and which, thirdly, either by its own operation, or by the administration of it, would produce the post perfect Christian character. Let us then judge of the religion of the Quakers by this standard.
That there are difficulties with respect to texts of scripture, must be admitted; for if all men were to understand them alike, there would be but one profession of the Christian religion. One man endeavours to make his system comport wholly with human reason, and the consequence is, that texts constantly stare him in the face, which militate against it.
Another discards reason, with a determination to abide literally by that, which is revealed, and the consequence is, that, in his literal interpretation of some pa.s.sages, he leaves others wholly irreconcileable with his scheme. Now the religion, of the Quakers has been explained, and this extensively. In its doctrinal parts it is simple. It is spiritual. It unites often philosophy with revelation. It explains a great number of the difficult texts with clearness and consistency. That it explains all of them I will not aver. But these which it does explain, it explains in the strictest harmony with the love, goodness, justice, mercy, and wisdom of G.o.d.
As to the creed of the Quakers, we have seen its effects. We have seen it to be both encouraging and consolatory. We have seen it produce happiness in life, and courage in death. The doctrine of the possibility of human perfection, where it is believed, must be a perpetual stimulus to virtue, it must encourage hope and banish fear. But it may be said, that stimulative and consolatory as it may be, it wants one of the marks which I have insisted upon, namely, a sound foundation. But surely they, who deny it, will have as many scriptural texts against them as they who acknowledge it, and will they not be rendering their own spiritual situation perilous? But what do the Quakers mean by perfection? Not the perfection of G.o.d, to which there are no limits, as has been before explained, but that which arises to man from the possibility of keeping the divine commands. They mean that perfection, such as Noah, and Job, and Zacharias, and Elizabeth, attained, and which the Jewish rabbies distinguished by the name of Redemption, and which they conceived to be effected by the influence of the Holy Spirit, or that state of man in Christian morals, which, if he arrives at it, the Divine Being (outward redemption having taken place by the sacrifice of Christ) is pleased to accept as sufficient, or as the most pure state at which man, under the disadvantages of the frailty of his nature, can arrive. And is not this the practicable perfection, which Jesus himself taught in these words, "Be ye perfect, even as your Father, which is in heaven is perfect." Not that he supposed it possible, that any human being could be as perfect as the Divine Nature. But he proposed, by these expressions, the highest conceivable model of human excellence, of which our natures were capable, well knowing that the higher our aspirations the higher we should ascend, and the sooner we should reach that best state of humanity that was attainable. And here it is, that Christianity, as a rule of moral conduct, surpa.s.ses all others. Men, in general, look up to men for models. Thus Homer makes one of his heroes, when giving counsel to his son, say, "Always emulate the best." Thus also we should say to our children, if a person of extraordinary character were to live in our neighbourhood, "This is the pattern for your virture." But Jesus Christ says, aim at perfection beyond that which is human, alluding to the attributes of G.o.d, and thus you will attain a higher excellence than the study of any other model can produce.
With respect to the formation of man according to the model which Christianity prescribes, the system of the Quakers is no where to be excelled. No one, that we know of, is more powerful in the production of a subjugated mind and of a moral character. By this I mean, that there is none which is more universally powerful. It is the tendency of Christianity, whatever denomination it may a.s.sume, to produce these effects. But there is full as general an appearance of these among the Quakers, as in any other Christian profession.
It will appear then, that, if the three criterions, which have been specified, should be admitted to be those by which a judgment may be formed in the present case, they, who have had thoughts of leaving the society, will not be much better off by an exchange of their religion.
Let us see next, what would be the greater temporal advantages, which they would obtain. These may be summed up in two essential ingredients of happiness, in tranquillity of mind, in consequence of which we pa.s.s through the troubles of life in the most placid manner, and in a moderate pecuniary independence, in consequence of which we know none of the wants and hardships, but enjoy the reasonable comforts of it.