‘ force (for there is no difficulty on that point), ‘ but the agitation of his soul by the intrusion of wicked thoughts?
‘And then I say nothing on the subject of honorary distinctions, though these are occawx” a“ ‘ sions of innumerable evils: for such of them as ‘are conferred by women, relax the firmness of ‘ self-discipline, and are even ruinous to the na soul, if it be not constantly on its guard ‘ against temptation; and those, which are con- ‘ferred by men, if they are not received with ‘real greatness of mind, implicate their objects ‘ in two opposite vices, the servility of adulation, ‘and the intemperance of boasting; for they ‘are brought under a necessity of cringing to ‘ those, who gratify them; and then, being flat- ‘tered by them in return, they behave with ‘ vanity towards their inferiors, and fall into the ‘ gulf of pride.
‘These several dangers I have indeed de- “ scribed. But no one can well learn without ‘ experience, how dangerous they are: for it is a an inevitable consequence of engaging in public ~ life, that not only these, but many other and ‘much more pernicious evils must be encountered; from all which the man, who is a fond of retirement, has an exemption; or, if n an aspiring fancy should ever paint any of a these mischiefs to his mind, it is but a feeble a representation of the reality, and the idea iff v a“ soon extinguished, there being no fuel added n to the flame from without by his presence in n the scene of action.
‘ Again the monk fears for himself alone; a or, if he should have occasion to concern a himself about others, it is at most but for n a limited number, who moreover are not only fewer than those, who are assembled n in the church, but occasion far less anxiety a to the person, who has the management a of them, not only on account of their being n a smaller body, but inasmuch as they are a also relieved from all worldly concerns, and a have no trouble with either children, or wife, n or any similar encumbrance; which ren- “ ders them very obedient to their governors.
“ It enables them also to live in common; n and thus their teachers by constant superinten- ‘ dence find opportunities to examine, overlook, ‘and correct their respective errors: which is n of no small advantage for the promotion of virtue. Of those, on the other hand, who ‘form the charge of the priest, the greater part are entangled in secular cares; which ‘render them less ready for the perforn a ‘mance of spiritual exercises: and hence it ‘becomes necessary for him to scatter the ‘seed, if I may so express myself, daily, ‘that the word of instruction may at least by habit come to be retained by the hearers: ‘for great riches, and excessive power, and ‘the indolence, which is fostered by luxury, ‘and many other impediments besides choke n “~ the seed, which is sown; and sometimes the a thorns are so closely compacted, that they will not suffer it even to reach the soil; and n n on the other hand severe tribulation, and pincha ing poverty, and numerous insults, and other n such impediments, though of a contrary nature nx to the former, detract from men’s zeal for divine ”“ objects, while yet not even the smallest part of these failings may be obvious to their suna ‘-perintendant; for how indeed can he perceive ‘them, when he does not know the greater ‘ number of his parishioners by sight?
‘Thus even in the state of his flock he has ‘abundant cause of perplexity. Yet, if we ‘consider the account he must give to God, ‘ we shall find those difficulties to be nothing. ‘ So much greater and exacter is the zeal, which ‘ this consideration requires from him.
‘ For what ought to be the character of the ‘man, who is to be an ambassador for the ‘ whole state?—and yet why do I say state?— ‘nay, rather for the whole world? and who © ‘ beseeches God to be propitious to the sins of | ‘all men, not only of the living, but also of ‘the departed? For my part I think the ‘importunate boldness of Moses and Elijah ‘ quite insufficient for the supplication, which “he has to offer: for he has to approach God, ‘ just as if the care of the world were committed ‘to him, and as if he were himself the uni- ‘versal father, beseeching him, that wars in ‘all places may be suppressed, and tumults ‘quelled, and that peace, prosperity, and a ‘ speedy removal of all the evils, that impend ‘ over every one both publicly and privately, may ‘ ensue: and he may therefore be fitly expected ‘ to excel all those, for whom he intercedes, in all 6 n~ “ qualities, as much as it becomes a president to excel those, over whom he presides. For, when he invokes the holy gpirit, and offers that most awful sacrifice, and handles for a long time the universal lord of all, (tell me!) in what rank shall we place him? What purity shall we exact from him, what devotion? For ‘ consider, what kind of hands those ought to nn n a n a a be, which minister in such a service, what kind of tongue, that utters those words! What proficiency in purity and holiness is found on Earth, which ought not to be sur- passed by the soul, that entertains so great a spirit? Then also there are angels, who stand near the priest, and all the order of the hea- venly powers raise their voice, and the place around the altar is filled in honour of the victim, as the greatness of the rites, then celebrated, may well incline us to believe. But besides this I once heard a person relate what an elderly venerable man, who had been accustomed to see revelations, told him, namely, that he had on one occasion been honored with a sight of such a vision, and that at that time he perceived suddenly as cf £ n n a a“ “ wn n n n n wn a“ far as it was possible for a man to perceive, a multitude of angels, clothed with shining robes, and surrounding the altar, and bending downward, as soldiers are seen to stand in the presence of their sovereign: and I believe it. Another individual also, who had not learned it from a third person, but had himself been permitted to see and hear it, declared to me, that the angels, forming a guard round those, who are on the point of departing, if pre- viously to their expiring they have partaken of the mysteries in a pure conscience, carry them hence in consideration of what they have received. Do you not then at all shudder at the thought of introducing such a soul as mine to the performance of so sacred a cere- mony, or of preferring to the dignity of priests a man, covered with filthy garments, such as the intruder, whom Christ thrust out from the rest of his company of guests? For the soul of the priest ought to shine, like that of a man, who gives light to the world, whereas mine is enveloped through an evil conscience in so thick a darkness as to be ever sinking, and never able to look with stedfast boldness ‘to its maker. Priests are the salt of the n earth. But who, except yourself, who have contracted a habit of loving me to excess, a could easily tolerate my folly and inexperience n in all things?
‘ For a priest ought not only to be pure, as a“ being honored with so great a ministry. He a should also be very intelligent, and experienced n in many affairs, and even equally skilful in x all secular business with those, who are a engaged in it, while yet he must be more a entirely detached from the love of it than the a anchorites, who resort to the mountains: for, “ since it is his very sphere to converse with men, who have wives, and children, and sern vants, and are encompassed with much wealth, a and manage public affairs, and are entrusted a with governments, he must needs be versatile.
n By versatile however I mean neither mean, cy nor flattering, nor hypocritical, but possessed a of much freedom and confidence, knowing n how to condescend with dignity, when the cat nature of the case requires it, and to be at once accommodating, and firm; for it is impos- “sible to treat all, who are placed under his a authority, in the same manner, any more than “ it is fit for physicians to prescribe alike to all n patients, or for a pilot to be acquainted with ‘but one method of contending against the ‘winds. This indeed is a vessel, which is surrounded with continual tempests, and the tem- ‘ pests not only assault it from without, but arise a from within likewise, so as to require great n management and dexterity. Yet all these ‘ varied cares look but to one end, the glory of ‘ God, the edification of the church.
‘ Great is the warfare of monks, and their toil ‘immense. Yet, if their labours are compared ‘ with those of a well regulated priesthood, the ‘ difference will be found as great as that be- ‘tween a private man and aking: for in their ‘case though the labour be great, yet the struggle is divided between the soul and the ‘body; or rather the greater part is supported by the strength of the body, and, if that be weak, their zeal is unsustained, and can n a ‘not find vent in action; for both continual ‘ fasting, and lying on the ground, and watch- ‘ing, and the want of washing, and profuse ‘ perspirations, and other austerities, which help “to reduce the body, are all impracticable, if the person, who is to submit to them, be not n strong. But the ministerial office is the ex- ‘ clusive work of the unencumbered spirit, and ‘does not require a good habit of body, to dis- play its excellence: for what advantage does strength of body contribute towards our main- taining a freedom from obstinacy, or anger, or rashness, or towards our being sober, tem- perate, and orderly, and possessing all those ‘ other qualities, with which saint Paul has filled ‘up the portrait of a perfect priest? This ‘however can not be affirmed concerning ‘the virtue of the monk. But, as showmen, when they exhibit experiments, cannot pro- ceed without suitable instruments, such as wheels, and ropes, and knives, while the philosopher has all the requisites of his science in himself, and is independent of ex- ternal assistance, it is the same here =: for it is necessary, that the monk should not only have a good constitution, but that he should also have a fit habitation for his purpose, one, that a ¢ is not too remote from human intercourse, and ‘yet may ensure the tranquillity of solitude; a a and it must at the same time be situated in the mildest air; for to’a person, wasted with fasting, nothing is so intolerable as any in- clemency of weather: and to this I need not now add the occupation, which devolves upon them, of preparing their own clothing and diet, as it is their ambition to do every thing for themselves. Now the priest will want none of these things. He is neither nice, nor particular in regard to any indifferent matters; for he comprehends the whole mystery of his science within the treasury of his soul. How- ever, aS people admire the rigours of monas- ticism, I will myself acknowledge them to be evidences of self-denial, but cannot regard them, as adequate tests of perfect magnanimity, any more than it is a sufficient proof of skill in navigation to sit at the helm in a port, whereas, if any one can preserve the vessel in the midst of the sea in a tempest, no one will deny him the character of an excellent navigator. We must not therefore yield an undue, an excessive admiration to the monk, because he is not agitated in his cell, or because he does not commit there any numerous or very grievous ‘ offences; for he has nothing there to provoke or agitatehis spirit. But, if there be any one, who after devoting himself to the care of a ‘ vast multitude, and being forced to bear the wn n n sins of many, remains still stedfast and im- ‘moveable, piloting his soul in a tempest, as ‘though all were calm, such an one deserves a universal applause and admiration; for he has given adequate proof of his stability.
‘ Do not therefore suffer yourself to feel any surprise, ifI, who avoid the forum and common places of resort, have not many accusers! for I should not be applauded for not doing wrong, while I was asleep, or for not being thrown down ata time, when I was not wrest- ling, or for not being wounded, when I did ‘not fight. For who (tell me!), who is ‘there, that can give information against ‘me, and discover my wickedness? This ‘bed, and this chamber? They cannot n utter a voice. Or is it my mother, who has the most intimate knowledge of my ‘heart? But we have no common property, and never came to any contention: and in- ‘ deed, if such a case had happened, there is no a « wn a n a “ a“ a a wn a a n na x a ¢ ¢ 4 ¢ ‘ ‘ ¢ mother so unnatural, none, who could bear such hatred to her offspring as to impeach the child, whom she had borne, bred, and nursed, and to calumniate him in public without any motive to tempt her, or any person to con- strain her. You however, though you have at all times, and before all men spoken in my praise, must be aware, that, were any one desirous to sift my soul to the bottom, he would find out many of its corruptions. Nor do I say this from mere diffidence: for recollect yourself! and you must be sensible, how many times I have told you, when we were engaged in a debate of this kind, that, if I had the choice of distinguishing myself either in the govern- ment of achurch, or in the monastic life, I should give the preference to the former ten thousand times over; for I have never ceased in your presence to say, how happy I considered those persons, who have been able to discharge this high office with advantage: and none cer- tainly can imagine, that I would have avoided the state, which I myself accounted blessed, had I thought myself competent to undertake a n na n ns a n " a a n .
a “ a a n a na an n a a wn a it. But what should Ido? For there is no less favorable preparation for the government of a church than that exemption from business and care, which others think an admirable discipline for it, but which I use, as a cloak for my unprofitableness, with which to cover the greater part of my deficiencies, and keep them from becoming known: for any one, who has been long habituated to such retirement, and has passed his life in tranquillity, whatever may be his greatness of soul, is yet harassed and hindered by his own inactivity, and the very want of practice cripples his ability in no slight degree. But, if his understanding is slow, and he has also no experience in these duties, which is the case with me at present, he will be no better than a statue, when engaged in the management of such an office: whence it arises, that few become conspicuous, who are brought out of that school to this scene of labour, but most of them are overpowered, and fail, and undergo difficult and painful trials: nor is this surprising; for, when the actual contest and the preparatory institution a “ & a a wn a a are not regulated with the same view, the practised combatant has no advantage over the uninstructed. He, who engages in these struggles, must chiefly despise glory, must be superior to anger, and imbued with much wisdom, in all which points the monastic life affords no exercise to those, who embrace it; for they have few to irritate them, that so they may curb the violence of their wrath; they have few to congratulate and applaud them, that so they may train themselves to neglect the praises of the multitude; neither have they much occasion for that intelligence, which is required in the government of churches. When therefore they embark in an enterprise, for the conduct of which they have made no preparation, they are embar- rassed; they become confused; they fall into perplexity; and besides not making any accession to their stock of virtue many of them often lose even that, which they brought with them.’
Upon this Basil exclaims—‘ What must we do then? Shall we place those men in the management of our churches, who are sunk ) a a “ ” a n a .
“ n « in worldly pleasure, occupied in secular busi- ness, engaged in battles and quarrels, full of unnumbered artifices, habituated to luxury ”’ ‘Be patient, my good friend!’—said I. These men ought not to come into our mind, when we are inquiring for priests. But might we not find one, who, living in the world, and conversing with mankind, maintains his purity, his obedience, his self-command, holiness, abstinence, and the like monastic virtues, uncontaminated, toa greater degree than even those eremites themselves? whereas, he, who, though possessing many faults, contrives to hide them by retirement, and to neutralize their evil effects by withdrawing from society, will assuredly on coming forward into public life gain nothing, but ridicule, and expose him- self to considerable danger; which I was myself upon the point of experiencing, when the goodness of God unexpectedly turned aside the flame from my head: fora man of this character cannot avoid discovery, when he comes into a public situation, but is sure to be detected; for as certainly as the fire proves metallic substances, the trials of a “~ wn ” o n n a cy a a“ n < clerical life put to the proof the souls of men, whether they be passionate, or pusilla- nimous, vain-glorious, boastful, or any thing else. It discloses all, and soon lays bare their failings; nor does it only lay them bare, but frets them also, and renders them sorer, and more painful: for as the wounds of the body are exasperated by friction, so also are the feelings of the soul rendered more violent by excitement and irritation, which drive those, who are under their influence, to the commission of still greater sins, puffing them up, ifthey be not on their guard, with the love of glory, and thus inciting them to ostentation and covetousness as well as to the indulgence of luxury, indolence, and pleasure, and so by little and little to other evils, greater than these, but arising out of them: for there are many things in public life, calculated to dis- turb the equanimity of a christian, and to obstruct the race of God; and the chief of these is the necessity of holding intercourse with females, it not being allowable for a rector, whose duty extends to the whole ‘flock, to attend only to the men, and neglect OFZ ¢ 6 ¢ ‘ ”~ n n~ a“ a the women. In fact these require greater vigilance in consequence of their greater proneness to sin; and hence, when he enters upon his charge, he must bestow upon them, if not more, at least equal care with the others: for he is required both to visit them, when sick, and to comfort them, when dis- tressed, to rebuke them, if they are idle, and to succour them in want: and in the per- formance of these duties many openings arise for the entrance of the evil one, if he be not fortified against his attacks by the exactest self-discipline: for not only the eye of the incontinent, but even that of modest females has power to wound and agitate the soul. Their flattery will unman, their kindness enslave it; and thus may even fervent charity, that source of every good, become the fountain of innumerable evils to those, who make an indis- creet use of it: for continual anxiety will blunt the acuteness of the intellect, and render the winged spirit duller than lead itself, till at length resentment, finding an_ entrance, obscures all, that is within, like smoke.
‘Why should I mention the many other a mischiefs, which await him, what insults, a what injuries he will meet with, how he will a“ be censured by superiors, by inferiors, by the a wise, and by the unwise, who indeed, being a destitute of a correct judgment, are the most a censorious of any, and will scarcely admit of a an apology? Nevertheless it is necessary “ for a good pastor not to despise even these, ~ but to answer all men on the subjects of their a accusation with great meekness and gentlea ness, pardoning rather than resenting their n unreasonable censures: for if the blessed Paul n~ was afraid, lest he should incur the suspicion a“ of dishonesty among the disciples, and for a that reason took others with him, to distribute “~ the money, which he had collected, that no a one might blame him in this abundance, ‘* which,” as he said, ‘‘ is administered by us,” is ‘it not much more incumbent upon us to do ‘ every thing, that may silence all evil surmises, ‘even though they be false, though they be ‘ unreasonable, though they be altogether foreign ‘to our intention? For we have none of us ‘abstained from any sin with so much clear- ‘ness.as Paul abstained from theft: and yet, ‘far as he was from that criminal propensity, ‘he notwithstanding did not slight the suspi- ‘cions of the multitude, however unreasonable ‘ and senseless, nay, though it would have been “madness itself to harbour a suspicion of that ‘ sort against that blessed and wonderful man. ‘Yet even of this suspicion, so very extrava- ‘gant, of which no one in his senses could ‘ dream, he removes the occasion, not despising ‘the stupidity of the mob, or saying—‘‘ Who “could possibly suspect me of such a crime, ‘‘ when all both honor and admire me as well “for my miracles as for my contentedness “‘and moderation?” But on the contrary ‘he both suspects and forestals this cruel ‘ suspicion, and attends to it at a distance; or ‘rather he stifles it before its birth: and where- ‘fore? ‘* Because” (says he) ‘‘ we provide for ‘“‘ honest things not only in the sight of the ‘* Lord, but also in the sight of men.” So much, ‘or rather even greater vigilance ought we to ¢ use, that we may not only obviate the 6 suspicions, that actually arise, and put down ¢ all evil reports, but observe beforehand the 6 causes, from which they may spring, and cut a off all occasions, that may give rise to them, and not wait, till they are actually raised, and come n into public conversation: for then it is no longer an easy matter to put a stop to them, but is even exceedingly difficult, and almost impos- sible; nor can any one accomplish it with- out sustaining some injury to his character ‘from the rude attacks of the multitude.
But how long shall I persist in attempting to nN enumerate what cannot be entirely counted? For to sum up all the difficulties in his way is a task, like that of measuring the sea, since, even though a man were himself pure a from every passion, which is an impossibility, he would yet be subjected to innumerable trials in his attempt to correct the failings ‘of others. But, when his private comn plaints are added to the account, behold the “ abyss of toils, and troubles, and distresses, n which he will have to suffer, in order to over- ‘come at once his own deficiencies, and the ‘ vices of other persons! ’ ‘ But’ (said Basil) ‘ have you now no occasion ‘for conflict? Have you no anxieties, while ‘ living by yourself?”
“[ have’ (replied 1) ‘even now: for how can “any man in this toilsome and troublesome ‘life be free from anxiety, or conflict? How- ‘ever it is not the same thing to embark upon a the boundless ocean, and to sail along a river; na for such is the difference between these a anxieties and the others. For, if I were able a at present to do good to others, it is my wish a tc do so, and the object of my earnest prayers.
a But, if I find it impossible to benefit my s neighbour, I must be content, that I have a the power of saving myself, and so make my a escape from the stormy sea.’ ‘Do you think it then’ (interrupted Basil) so great an achievement to be saved yourself hod ‘without being serviceable to any one?’
S tinent: for indeed I can never bring myself to ” believe, that any one can be saved without a using efforts for the salvation of his neighbour, ‘forasmuch as it was of no advantage to the a wretch in the parable, that he had not dimisn nished his talent, but he perished for not a having augmented, and even doubled it. Notwn withstanding this I imagine my punishment a will be hghter, if I am only charged with not cat having saved others, than if I had ruined “a them and myself too, and been rendered a ~ worse character by the distinguished honour, a bestowed upon me: for though even now I a must look for as severe a punishment as the a magnitude of my offences demands, yet after wn receiving that commission I should expect wa not double measure only, or triple, but mania fold, in consideration of my having not only nw offended more grievously, but having also, n after a greater distinction had been cona ferred upon me, offended the God, who n conferred it. It was for this reason, that the ‘Lord in accusing the Israelites pronounced ‘ them worthy ofa severer chastisement, because ‘they had sinned after more distinguished “blessings. ‘‘You only have I known of all “the families of the earth. Therefore I will ‘< punish you for all your iniquities’—; and in ‘another place—‘‘ I raised up of your sons for ‘“‘ prophets, and of your young men for naza- < ‘* rites’: and before the time of the prophets ‘in the very institution of sacrifices he shewed, ‘that offences, committed by priests, incur a ‘far heavier punishment than those, committed ‘ by other men; for he directs as large a sacri- ‘ fice to be offered for the priests as for all the ‘ people, implying that errors in a priest require ‘ stronger correctives, as strong indeed as those ‘ of the whole people together. Now they would ‘not require stronger remedies, if they were not ‘more offensive; and they are more offensive, ‘not in their own nature, but being aggravated ‘by the dignity of the priest, who ventures to ‘commit them. Yet why do I speak only of ‘the men, who serve in this office? Even the ‘daughters of the priests, who have no share ‘in the administration of it, yet in considera- ‘tion of their hereditary dignity are subjected ‘to severer treatment than others for the same ‘offences: for, though the crime of fornication ‘is the same in them as in daughters of private ‘individuals, the penalty denounced is much ‘greater. Do you observe, with what super- ‘abundant proof God shews you, that he exacts “a far more tremendous account from the chief ‘than from the subject? For if the priest’s ‘ daughter is for the priest’s sake exposed to a ‘sterner sentence than others, certainly the ¢ ‘ ¢ ‘¢ n n n n na a .
n a priest himself, who is the cause of this in- creased severity, will be brought to a trial, not merely equal to that of the multitude, but to one much more severe, because his faults, instead of being limited in their conse- quences to himself alone, overthrow also the souls of the simple, who look up to his autho- rity, a truth, which Ezekiel wished to repre- sent to us by the distinction he introduces between the judgment of the sheep, and that of the goats. Will you now admit, that I had some reason for my alarm?
‘Indeed in addition to what I have urged it may be remarked, that if even now I have occasion for great exertion, that I may not be altogether brought under the mastery of my passions, still I now submit to the exertion, and do not shun the contest. For, even as I am, I am surprised occasionally by the risings of vanity. But I recover again, and, per- ceiving, that I have been entangled, chide my soul for yielding to the temptation. Prepos- terous desires assail me even now. But they kindle a slower flame, while the eyes of others fail to supply it with fuel. However, “~ n a a“ ” n a = x wa ¢ ¢ € so long as I have no one to converse with, I am clearly exempt from speaking ill of one person, and hearing another spoken ill of, since these walls cannot utter a voice. But, although I have none to provoke me, it is not so easy to avoid wrath: for the recollection of foolish persons, and of things, done by them, recurring to my mind, makes my heart swell within me, yet not indeed to the utmost; for I quickly compose its boiling, and _per- suade it to be quiet, saying, that it is very wrong, and a proof of very fatuity to pass over my own faults, that I may busy myself about those of my neighbours. Nevertheless, should 1 come forward into public life, and be involved in the innumerable troubles, which attend it, I should no longer be able to profit by this secret admonition, or to recol- lect the considerations, that regulate my conduct on these occasions. On the contrary, as those, who are forced down precipices by a current or other violence, foresee the destruc- tion, into which they are hastening, without being able to escape from it, so I, having fallen into a deep vortex of passions, shall be a a a ¢ a a a able to see my punishment, increasing every day, but without finding it so easy to control myself as at present, or to chide away the evils, by which I am encompassed: for I am weak, and pusillanimous, easily mastered both by these passions, and by envy also, which is worse than all the rest; and I know not how to bear either insults or honours with equani- mity, but as these puff me up, so those humble me unduly. Hence it is, that as savage beasts, when wanton, and in good con- dition, prevail over their antagonists, espe- cially, if they be weak, and inexperienced, but, when they are wasted with hunger, they are cured of their violence, and lose much of their strength, so, that a man may venture without much courage to contend, and fight with them, so also is it with respect to the passions of the soul. He, who weakens them, brings them under subjection to right reason, while he, who pampers them, renders them a more difficult conquest, and so formidable, that he is compelled to pass his whole life in slavery and apprehension. What then is the food of these monsters? That of n a a “~ a a ” a ” “ n a a a n a “ a “ a on a a a vanity is praise, that of pride dignity and power, that of envy other men’s reputation, that of avarice rivalry in gifts, that of licen- tiousness luxury, and much conversation with females, and other things of the rest, all of which will rush upon me, when I enter into public life, and tear my soul in pieces, and, becoming more and more formidable, will render my warfare with them more painful and severe, whereas, if I remain here in quiet, these enemies will be subdued, not indeed without considerable effort; but still by the grace of God they will be subdued, till no- thing of them remains, but their clamour. To this end I keep my room, and become an inaccessible, unsociable, unconversable being, and submit to hear many other such reproaches, which I would willingly wipe off, and I feel pain and grief at not being able to do so. But I do not find it an easy matter to attend at the same time to the claims of society, and of prudence, and am consequently reduced toa dilemma, which demands your commiseration rather than your censure.
‘ However, as I have not yet succeeded in ¢ persuading you of this, I must now open my “ only remaining argument; which, however ina“ credible it may appear to many, yet no sense n“ of shame shall restrain me from uttering: for “ although by what I am now going to say, I a should convict myself of an evil conscience, n and of innumerable faults, yet, since God, who n is to judge me, is already acquainted with the a whole of them, what advantage can I gain by a concealing them from mankind? What then n is this undiscovered truth? Since the day, on “ which you first hinted to me your suspicion, n that this measure was in agitation, I have often a felt, as if my frame would dissolve. With a such fear, such horror have I been encom- Oy passed: for on contrasting the glory, the a holiness, the spiritual beauty, the wisdom, a the comeliness of the bride of Christ with my “ own contrary imperfections, I never ceased to ‘bewail her condition, and to vex myself, ‘ groaning under continual dismay and appre- ‘hension, and saying to myself—‘‘ Who is it, “that has contrived such a plot? Of what “crime has the church of God been guilty? ** How has she so grievously provoked her lord, “ that she should now be brought under such a ‘‘ diserace as to be committed to me, who am *‘ the vilest of all men?” With these reflec- ‘ tions continually upon my mind, being unable “to bear the thought of such inconsistency, I ‘lay speechless, astonished, and incapable na either of sight or hearing; and when this n stupefaction had left me (for I had some a intermissions), it was succeeded by tears and a melancholy; and, when again I had taken n my fill of tears, my terror returned, agitating, a and confounding, and unsettling my undera standing. In such a tempest have I passed the interval. You did not know it indeed.
You thought I was in peace. But I will now wn w x endeavor to describe to you the agony of my a soul: for, when you have heard it, you will nw forgive me, and withdraw the charges you a have preferred. How then, by what means n can I reveal it to you? If you would under- “ stand it thoroughly, it could only be by my ‘laying my heart naked before you; which ‘being impossible, I will endeavor neverthe- ‘less to represent to you as well as I may * by some faint image the horror of my distress oN at that period, wishing you only to collect my an feelings from the description.
“Let us suppose a person, paying his “an addresses to the daughter of a king of the a whole earth! Let it be supposed, that this a virgin possesses unrivalled beauty so as even to a surpass human nature itself, and leave all a her sex at a vast distance behind her, that a she is moreover so virtuous as to outdo the A whole race of men, that either have been, or a ever shall be, that she exceeds the utmost A bounds of philosophy in the propriety of her “manners, and also, that the charms of her ‘person are eclipsed by the beauty of her ‘eountenance! Let us suppose too, that her a suitor not only desires her ardently for these a reasons, but has an affection for her, indea pendent of them all, and in this affection “outvies the most eager lovers, that have ever “ existed, and then, that in the midst of his ‘ fascination he hears that some worthless fellow, « jll-born, deformed, the most profligate of all ‘men, is destined to marry this beloved and ‘admirable creature! Have I thus opened a “small part of my case? and is it yet sufficient Pp ‘ to authorize me in stopping here? Enough (1 ‘ think) has been said to account for my distress: ‘and it was for that purpose alone, that I drew ‘ the picture.
‘ But, to shew you the extent of my terror n and confusion, let us now pass to another n scene! Let there be an army, consisting of nx cavalry, infantry, and marines! Let the n“