A PORTRAITURE OF QUAKERISM, VOLUME I

Taken from a View of the Education and Discipline, Social Manners, Civil and Political Economy, Religious Principles and Character, ofthe Society of Friends

by

THOMAS CLARKSON, M. A. 

1806. 

[Illustration: THOMAS CLARKSON, A. M. ]

CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 

INTRODUCTION

PREFATORY ARRANGEMENTS AND REMARKS

MORAL EDUCATION. 

CHAPTER I. 

_Amusements distinguishable into useful and hurtful--the latterspecified and forbidden_. 

CHAPTER II. 

SECT. I. --_Games of chance forbidden--history of the origin of some ofthese_. 

SECT. II. --_Forbidden as below the dignity of the intellect of man, andof his christian character_. 

SECT. III. --_As producing an excitement of the passions, unfavourable toreligious impressions--historical anecdotes of this excitement_. 

SECT. IV. --_As tending to produce, by the introduction of habits ofgaming, an alteration in the moral character_. 

CHAPTER III. 

SECT. I. --_Music forbidden--instrumental innocent in itself, but greatlyabused--the use of it almost inseparable from its abuse at the presentday_. 

SECT. II. --_Quakers cannot learn instrumental on the usual motives ofthe world--nor consider it as a source of moral improvement, or ofsolid comfort to the mind--but are fearful that, if indulged in, itwould interfere with the Christian duty of religious retirement_. 

SECT III. --_Quakers cannot learn vocal, because, on account of itsarticulative powers, it is capable of becoming detrimental tomorals--its tendency to this, as discoverable by an analysis ofdifferent classes of songs_. 

SECT IV. --_The preceding the arguments of the early Quaker--but the newstate of music has produced others--these explained_. 

SECT V. --_An objection stated to the different arguments of the Quakerson this subject--their reply_. 

CHAPTER IV. 

SECT I. --_The Theatre forbidden--short history of its origin--and of itsstate and progress_. 

SECT II. --_Manner of the drama objected to by the Quakers--as itpersonates the characters of others--and it professes to reform vice_. 

SECT III. --_Contents of the drama objected to--as they hold our falsesentiments--and weaken the sinews of morality_. 

SECT IV. --_Theater considered by the Quakers to be injurious to thehappiness of man, as it disqualifies him for the pleasure of religion_. 

SECT V. --_To be injurious to the happiness of man, as it disqualifieshim for domestic enjoyments_. 

SECT VI. --_Opinions of the early Christians on this subject_. 

CHAPTER V. 

SECT. I. --_Dancing forbidden--light in which this subject has beenviewed both by the ancients and the moderns--Quakers principally objectto it, where it is connected with public assemblies--they conceive itproductive, in this case, of a frivolous levity, and of an excitement ofmany of the evil passions_. 

SECT. II--_These arguments of the Quakers, on dancing, examined inthree supposed cases put to a moral philosopher_. 

SECT. III. --_These arguments further elucidated by a display of theBall-room_. 

CHAPTER VI. 

_Novels forbidden--considered by the Quakers as producing an affectationof knowledge--a romantic spirit--and a perverted morality_. 

CHAPTER VII. 

SECT. I--_Diversions of the field forbidden--general thoughtlessnessupon this subject--sentiments of some of our best poets--law of theQuakers concerning it_. 

SECT. II. --_Consistency of this law examined by the morality, which isinculcated by the Old Testament_. 

SECT. III. --_Examined by the morality of the New--these employments, ifresorted to as diversions, pronounced, in both cases, to be a breach ofa moral law_. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

_Objections to the preceding system, which includes these differentprohibitions, as a system of moral education_. 

CHAPTER IX. 

SECT. I. --_Reply of the Quakers to these objections_. 

SECT. II. --_Further reply of the Quakers on the same subject_. 

 * * * * *

DISCIPLINE. 

CHAPTER I. 

SECT. I. --_Outlines of the discipline of the Quakers_. 

SECT. II. --_Manner of the administration of this discipline_. 

SECT. III. --_Charges usually brought against the administration ofit--observations in answer in these charges_. 

SECT. IV. --_The principles of this discipline applicable to thediscipline of larger societies, or to the criminal codes ofstates--beautiful example in Pennsylvania_. 

CHAPTER II. 

_Monthly court or meeting of the Quakers for the purposes of theirdiscipline--nature and manner of the business transacted there_. 

CHAPTER III. 

_Quarterly court or meeting for the same purposes--nature and manner ofthe business there_. 

CHAPTER IV. 

_Annual court or meeting for the same purposes--nature and manner of thebusiness there--striking peculiarities in this manner--character of thisdiscipline or government_. 

CHAPTER V. 

_Excommunication or disowning--nature of disowning as a punishment_. 

PECULIAR CUSTOMS. 

CHAPTER I. 

SECT. I. --_Dress--extravagance of the dress of the fifteenth andsixteenth centuries--plain manner in which the grave and religious werethen habited--the Quakers sprang out of these_. 

SECT. II. --_Quakers carried with them their plain dresses into their newsociety--extravagance of the world continuing, they defined the objectsof dress as a Christian people--at length incorporated it into theirdiscipline--hence their present dress is only a less deviation from thatof their ancestors, than that of other people_. 

SECT. III. --_Objections of the world to the Quaker dress--thoseexamined--a comparison between the language of Quakerism and ofChristianity on this subject--opinion of the early Christians upon it. _

CHAPTER II. 

_Furniture--the Quakers use plain furniture--reasons for theirsingularities in this respect. _

CHAPTER III. 

SECT. I. --_Language--Quakers have altered the commonlanguage--substitution of Thou for You--reasons for thischange--opinions of many learned men concerning it. _

SECT. II. --_Various other alterations made--as in titled of address--andof honour--reasons for these changes. _

SECT. III. --_Another alteration--as in the names of the days and themonths--reasons for this change--various new phrases also introduced. _

SECT. IV. --_Objections by the world against the alteration of Thou forYou. _

SECT. V. --_Against that of titles of address and honour. _

SECT. VI. --_Against that of the names of the days and months. _

SECT. VIII. --_Advantages and disadvantages of these alterations by theQuaker language. _

CHAPTER IV. 

_Address--common personal gestures or worldly ceremonies of addressforbidden--no exception in favour of royalty--reasons against the disuseof these. _

CHAPTER V. 

_Manners and conversation--hospitality and freedom in Quakers'houses--their conversation more limited than that of others--subjects ofconversation examined in our towns--and in the metropolis--extraordinarycircumstance that takes place occasionally in the company of theQuakers. _

CHAPTER VI. 

_Customs before meals--ancients made an oblation to Vesta--moderns havesubstituted grace--account of a Quaker-grace. _

CHAPTER VII. 

_Customs at and after meals--Quakers never drink healths ortoasts--various reasons for their disuse of these customs--and seldomallow women to retire after dinner and leave the men drinking--Quakers asober people. _

INTRODUCTION. 

MOTIVES FOR THE UNDERTAKING--ORIGIN OF THE NAME OF QUAKERS--GEORGE FOX, THE FOUNDER OF THE SOCIETY-SHORT HISTORY OF HIS LIFE. 

From the year 1787, when I began to devote my labours to the abolitionof the slave trade, I was thrown frequently into the company of thepeople, called Quakers, these people had been then long unanimous uponthis subject. Indeed they had placed it among the articles of theirreligious discipline. Their houses were of course open to me in allparts of the kingdom. Hence I came to a knowledge of their livingmanners, which no other person, who was not a Quaker, could have easilyobtained. 

As soon as I became possessed of this knowledge, or at least of so muchof it, as to feel that it was considerable, I conceived a desire ofwriting their moral history. I believed I should be able to exhibit tothe rest of the world many excellent customs, of which they wereignorant, but which it might be useful to them to know. I believed too, that I should be affording to the Quakers themselves, some lessons ofutility, by letting them see, as it were in a glass, the reflection oftheir own images. I felt also a great desire, amidst theseconsiderations, to do them justice; for ignorance and prejudice hadinvented many expressions concerning them, to the detriment of theircharacter, which their conduct never gave me reason to suppose, duringall my intercourse with them, to be true. 

Nor was I without the belief, that such a history might affordentertainment to many. The Quakers, as every body knows, differ morethan even many foreigners do, from their own countrymen. They adopt asingular mode of language. Their domestic customs are peculiar. Theyhave renounced religious ceremonies, which all other christians, in someform or other, have retained. They are distinguished from all the otherislanders by their dress. These differences are great and striking. AndI thought therefore that those, who were curious in the development ofcharacter, might be gratified in knowing the principles, which producedsuch numerous exceptions from the general practices of the world. 

But though I had conceived from the operation of these sentiments uponmy mind, as long ago as I have stated, a strong desire to write themoral history of the Quakers, yet my incessant occupations on thesubject of the slave-trade, and indisposition of body afterwards, inconsequence of the great mental exertions necessary in such a cause, prevented me from attempting my design. At length these causes ofprevention ceased. But when, after this, the subject recurred, I did notseem to have the industry and perseverance, though I had still theinclination left, for the undertaking. Time, however, continued to stealon, till at length I began to be apprehensive, but more particularlywithin the last two years, that, if I were to delay my work much longer, I might not live to begin it at all. This consideration operated uponme. But I was forcibly struck by another, namely, that, if I were not toput my hand to the task, the Quakers would probably continue to be aslittle known to their fellow-citizens, as they are at present. For I didnot see who was ever to give a full and satisfactory account of them. Itis true indeed, that there are works, written by Quakers, from which acertain portion of their history, and an abstract of their religiousprinciples, might be collected; but none, from whence their livingmanners could be taken. It is true also that others, of other religiousdenominations, have written concerning them; but of those authors, whohave mentioned them in the course of their respective writings, not one, to my knowledge, has given a correct account of them. It would betedious to dwell on the errors of Mosheim, or of Formey, or of Hume, oron those to be found in many of the modern periodical[1] publications. It seemed, therefore, from the circumstance of my familiar intercoursewith the Quakers, that it devolved upon me particularly to write theirhistory. And I was the more confirmed in my opinion, because, in lookingforward, I was never able to foresee the time when any other cause wouldequally, with that of the slave-trade, bring any other person, who wasnot of the society, into such habits of friendship with the Quakers, asthat he should obtain an equal degree of knowledge concerning them withmyself. By this new consideration I was more than ordinarily stimulated, and I began my work. 

[Footnote 1: I must except Dr. Toulmin's revision of Neal's history ofthe Puritans. One or two publications have appeared since, written, in aliberal spirit, but they are confined principally to the religiousprinciples of the Quakers. ]

It is not improbable but some may imagine from the account alreadygiven, that this work will be a partial one, or that it will lean, morethan it ought to do, in favour of the Quakers. I do not pretend to say, that I shall be utterly able to divest myself of all undue influence, which their attention towards me may have produced, or that I shall beutterly unbiased, when I consider them as fellow-labourers in the workof the abolition of the slave-trade; for if others had put theirshoulders to the wheel equally with them on the occasion, one of thegreatest causes of human misery, and moral evil, that was ever known inthe world, had been long ago annihilated, nor can I conceal, that I havea regard for men, of whom it is a just feature in their character, that, whenever they can be brought to argue upon political subjects, theyreason upon principle, and not upon consequences; for if this mode ofreasoning had been adopted by others, but particularly by men in exaltedstations, policy had given way to moral justice, and there had been butlittle public wickedness in the world. But though I am confessedlypartial to the Quakers on account of their hospitality to me, and onaccount of the good traits in their moral character, I am not so muchso, as to be blind to their imperfections. Quakerism is of itself a puresystem, and, if followed closely, will lead towards purity andperfection; but I know well that all, who profess it, are not Quakers. The deviation therefore of their practice from their profession, andtheir frailties and imperfections, I shall uniformly lay open to them, wherever I believe them to exist. And this I shall do, not because Iwish to avoid the charge of partiality, but from a belief, that it is myduty to do it. 

The society, of which I am to speak, are called[2] Quakers by the world, but are known to each other by the name of friends, a beautifulappellation, and characteristic of the relation, which man, under thechristian dispensation, ought uniformly to bear to man. 

[Footnote 2: Justice Bennet of Derby gave the society the name ofQuakers in the year 1650, because the founder of it ordered him, andthose present with him, to tremble at the word of the Lord. ]

The Founder of the society was George Fox He was born of "honest andsufficient parents, " at Drayton in Leicestershire, in the year 1624. Hewas put out, when young, according to his own account, to a man, who wasa shoe-maker by trade, and who dealt in wool, and followed grazing, andsold cattle. But it appears from William Penn, who became a member ofthe society, and was acquainted with him that he principally followedthe country-part of his master's business. He took a great delight insheep, "an employment, " says Penn, "that very well suited his mind insome respects, both for its innocency and its solitude, and was a justfigure of his after ministry and service. "

In his youth he manifested a seriousness of spirit, not usual in personsof his age. This seriousness grew upon him, and as it encreased heencouraged it, so that in the year 1643, or in the twentieth year ofhis age, he conceived himself, in consequence of the awful impressionhe had received, to be called upon to separate himself from the world, and to devote himself to religion. 

At this time the Church of England, as a Protestant church, had beenestablished; and many, who were not satisfied with the settlement of it, had formed themselves into different religious sects. There was a greatnumber of persons also in the kingdom, who approving neither of thereligion of the establishment, nor of that of the differentdenominations alluded to, withdrew from the communion of every visiblechurch. These were ready to follow any teacher, who might inculcatedoctrines that coincided with their own apprehensions. Thus for a waylay open among many for a cordial reception of George Fox. But of those, who had formed different visible churches of their own, it may beobserved, that though they were prejudiced, the reformation had nottaken place so long, but that they were still alive to religiousadvancement. Nor had it taken place so long, but that thousands werestill very ignorant, and stood in need of light and information on thatsubject. 

It does not appear, however, that George Fox, for the first three yearsfrom the time, when he conceived it to be his duty to withdraw from theworld, had done any thing as a public minister of the gospel. He hadtravelled from the year 1643 to 1646, through the counties of Warwick, Leicester, Northampton, and Bedford, and as far as London. In thisinterval he appears to have given himself up to solemn impressions, andto have endeavoured to find out as many serious people as he could, witha view of conversing with them on the subject of religion. 

In 1647 he extended his travels to Derbyshire, and from thence intoLancashire, but returned to his native county. He met with many friendlypeople in the course of this journey, and had many serious conversationswith them, but he never joined in profession with any. At Duckenfield, however, and at Manchester, he went among those, whom he termed "theprofessors of religion, " and according to his own expressions, "he staida while and declared truth among them. " Of these some were convinced butothers were enraged, being startled at his doctrine of perfection. AtBroughton in Leicestershire, we find him attending a meeting of theBaptists, at which many of other denominations were present. Here hespoke publicly, and convinced many. After this he went back to thecounty of Nottingham. And here a report having gone abroad, that he wasan extraordinary young man, many, both priests and people, came far andnear to see him. 

In 1648 he confined his movements to a few counties. In this year wefind him becoming a public character. In Nottinghamshire he deliveredhimself in public at three different meetings, consisting either ofpriests and professors, as he calls them, or professors and people. InWarwickshire he met with a great company of professors, who were prayingand expounding the scriptures, in the fields. Here he discoursedlargely, and the hearers fell into contention, and so parted. InLeicestershire he attended another meeting, consisting of Church people, Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists, where he spoke publiclyagain. This meeting was held in a church. The persons present discoursedand reasoned. Questions were propounded, and answers followed. An answergiven by George Fox, in which he stated that "the church was the pillarand ground of truth, and that it did not consist of a mixed multitude, or of an old house, made up of lime, stones, and wood, but of livingstones, living members, and a spiritual household, of which Christ wasthe head, " set them all on fire. The clergyman left the pulpit, thepeople their pews, and the meeting separated. George Fox, however, wentafterwards to an Inn, where he argued with priests and professors of allsorts. Departing from thence, he took up his abode for some time in thevale of Beevor, where he preached Repentance, and convinced many. Hethen returned into Nottinghamshire, and passed from thence intoDerbyshire, in both which counties his doctrines spread. And, afterthis, warning Justices of the Peace, as he travelled along, to dojustice, and notoriously wicked men to amend their lives, he came intothe vale of Beevor again. In this vale it was that he received, according to his own account, his commission from divine authority, bymeans of impressions on his mind, in consequence of which he conceivedit to be discovered to him, among other things, that he was "to turn thepeople from darkness to the light. " By this time he had converted manyhundreds to his opinions, and divers meetings of Friends, to use his ownexpression, "had been then gathered. "

The year 1649 was ushered in by new labours. He was employedoccasionally in writing to judges and justices to do justice, and inwarning persons to fulfil the duties of their respective stations inlife. 

This year was the first of all his years of suffering. For it happenedon a Sunday morning, that, coming in sight of the town of Nottingham, and seeing the great church, he felt an impression on his mind to gothere. On hearing a part of the sermon, he was so struck with what hesupposed to be the erroneous doctrine it contained, that he could nothelp publicly contradicting it. For this interruption of the service hewas seized, and afterwards confined in prison. At Mansfield again, as hewas declaring his own religious opinions in the church, the people fellupon him and beat and bruised him, and put him afterwards in the stocks. At Market Bosworth he was stoned and driven out of the place. AtChesterfield he addressed both the clergyman and the people, but theycarried him before the mayor, who detained him till late at night, atwhich unseasonable time the officers and watchmen put him out of thetown. 

And here I would observe, before I proceed to the occurrences of anotheryear, that there is reason to believe that George Fox disapproved of hisown conduct in having interrupted the service of the church atNottingham, which I have stated to have been the first occasion of hisimprisonment. For if he believed any one of his actions, with which theworld had been offended, to have been right, he repeated it, ascircumstances called it forth, though he was sure of suffering for iteither from the magistrates or the people. But he never repeated this, but he always afterwards, when any occasion of religious controversyoccurred in any of the churches, where his travels lay, uniformlysuspended his observations, till the service was over. 

George Fox spent almost the whole of the next year, that is, of the year1650, in confinement in Derby Prison. 

In 1651, when he was set at liberty, he seems not to have been in theleast disheartened by the treatment he had received there, or at thedifferent places before mentioned, but to have resumed his travels, andto have held religious meetings, as he went along. He had even theboldness to go into Litchfield, because he imagined it to be his duty, and, with his shoes off to pronounce with an audible voice in thestreets, and this on the market-day, a woe against that city. Hecontinued also to visit the churches, as he journeyed, in the time ofdivine service, and to address the priests and the people publicly, ashe saw occasion, but not, as I observed before, till he believed theservice to be over. It does not appear, however, that he suffered anyinterruption upon these occasions, in the course of the present year, except at York-Minster; where, as he was beginning to preach after thesermon, he was hurried out of it, and thrown down the steps by thecongregation, which was then breaking up. It appears that he had beengenerally well received in the county of York, and that he had convincedmany. 

In the year 1652, after having passed through the shires of Nottinghamand Lincoln, he came again into Yorkshire. Here, in the course of hisjourney, he ascended Pendle-Hill. At the top of this he apprehended itwas opened to him, whither he was to direct his future steps, and thathe saw a great host of people, who were to be converted by him in thecourse of his ministry. From this time we may consider him as havingreceived his commission full and complete in his own mind. For in thevale of Beevor he conceived himself to have been informed of the variousdoctrines, which it became his duty to teach, and, on this occasion, tohave had an insight of the places where he was to spread them. 

To go over his life, even in the concise way, in which I have hithertoattempted it, would be to swell this introduction into a volume. I shalltherefore, from this great period of his ministry, make only thefollowing simple statement concerning it. 

He continued his labours, as a minister of the gospel, and evenpreached, within two days of his death. 

During this time he had settled meetings in most parts of the kingdom, and had given to these the foundation of that beautiful system ofdiscipline, which I shall explain in this volume, and which exists amongthe Quakers at the present day. 

He had travelled over England, Scotland, and Wales. He had been inIreland. He had visited the British West-Indies, and America. He hadextended his travels to Holland, and part of Germany. 

He had written, in this interval, several religious books, and hadaddressed letters to kings, princes, magistrates, and people, as he feltimpressions on his mind, which convinced him, that it become his duty todo it. 

He had experienced also, during this interval, great bodily sufferings. He had been long and repeatedly confined in different gaols of thekingdom. The state of the gaols, in these times, is not easily to beconceived. That of Doomsdale at Launceston in Cornwall, has never beenexceeded for filth and pestilential noisomeness, nor those of Lancasterand Scarborough-castles for exposure to the inclemency of the elements. In the two latter he was scarcely ever dry for two years; for the rainused to beat into them, and to run down upon the floor. This exposure tothe severity of the weather occasioned his body and limbs to bebenumbed, and to swell to a painful size, and laid the foundation, byinjuring his health, for future occasional sufferings during theremainder of his life. 

With respect to the religious doctrines, which George Fox inculcatedduring his ministry, it is not necessary to speak of them here, as theywill be detailed in their proper places. I must observe, however, thathe laid a stress upon many things, which the world considered to be oflittle moment, but which his followers thought to be entirely worthy ofhis spiritual calling. He forbade all the modes and gestures, which areused as tokens of obeisance, or flattery, or honour, among men. Heinsisted on the necessity of plain speech or language. He declaimedagainst all sorts of music. He protested against the exhibitions of thetheatre, and many of the accustomary diversions of the times. The earlyQuakers, who followed him in all these points, were considered by someas turning the world upside down; but they contended in reply, that theywere only restoring it to its pure and primitive state; and that theyhad more weighty arguments for acting up to their principles in theserespects, than others had for condemning them for so doing. 

But whatever were the doctrines, whether civil, or moral, or religious, which George Fox promulgated, he believed that he had a divinecommission for teaching them, and that he was to be the RESTORER ofChristianity; that is, that he was to bring people from Jewishceremonies and Pagan-fables, with which it had been intermixed, and alsofrom worldly customs, to a religion which was to consist of spiritualfeeling. I know not how the world will receive the idea, that heconceived himself to have had a revelation for these purposes. Butnothing is more usual than for pious people, who have succeeded in anyordinary work of goodness, to say, that they were providentially led toit, and this expression is usually considered among Christians to beaccurate. But I cannot always find the difference between a man beingprovidentially led into a course of virtues and successful action, andhis having an internal revelation for it. For if we admit that men maybe providentially led upon such occasions, they must be led by theimpressions upon their minds. But what are these internal impressions, but the dictates of an internal voice to those who follow them? But ifpious men would believe themselves to have been thus providentially led, or acted upon, in any ordinary case of virtue, if it had been crownedwith success, George Fox would have had equal reason to believe, fromthe success that attended his own particular undertaking, that he hadbeen called upon to engage in it. For at a very early age he hadconfuted many of the professors of religion in public disputations. Hehad converted magistrates, priests, and people. Of the clergymen ofthose times some had left valuable livings, and followed him. In histhirtieth year he had seen no less than sixty persons, spreading, asministers, his own doctrines. These, and other circumstances which mightbe related, would doubtless operate powerfully upon him to make himbelieve, that he was a chosen vessel. Now, if to these considerations itbe added, that George Fox was not engaged in any particular or partialcause of benevolence, or mercy, or justice, but wholly and exclusivelyin a religious and spiritual work, and that it was the first of all hisreligious doctrines, that the spirit of God, _where men were obedient toit, guided them in their spiritual concerns_, he must have believedhimself, on the consideration of his unparalleled success, to have been_providentially led_, or to have had an internal or spiritual commissionfor the cause, which he had undertaken. 

But this belief was not confined to himself. His followers believed inhis commission also. They had seen, like himself, the extraordinarysuccess of his ministry. They acknowledged the same internaladmonitions, or revelations of the same spirit, in spiritual concerns. They had been witnesses of his innocent and blameless life. There wereindividuals in the kingdom, who had publicly professed sights andprophecies concerning him. At an early age he had been reported, in someparts of the country, as a youth, who had a _discerning spirit_. It hadgone abroad, that he had healed many persons, who had been sick ofvarious diseases. Some of his prophecies had come true in the lifetimeof those, who had heard them delivered. His followers too had seen many, who had come purposely to molest and apprehend him, depart quietly, asif their anger and their power had been providentially broken. They hadseen others, who had been his chief persecutors, either falling intomisfortunes, or dying a miserable or an untimely death. They had seenhim frequently cast into prison, but always getting out again by meansof his innocence. From these causes the belief was universal among them, that his commission was of divine authority; and they looked upon himtherefore in no other light, than that of a teacher, who had been sentto them from heaven. 

George Fox was in his person above the ordinary size. He is described byWilliam Penn as a "lusty person. " He was graceful in his countenance. His eye was particularly piercing, so that some of those, who weredisputing with him, were unable to bear it. He was, in short, manly, dignified, and commanding in his aspect and appearance. 

In his manner of living he was temperate. He ate sparingly. He avoided, except medicinally, all strong drink. 

Notwithstanding the great exercise he was accustomed to take, he allowedhimself but little sleep. 

In his outward demeanour he was modest, and without affectation. Hepossessed a certain gravity of manners, but he was nevertheless affable, and courteous, and civil beyond the usual forms of breeding. 

In his disposition he was meek, and tender, and compassionate. He waskind to the poor, without any exception, and, in his own society, laidthe foundation of that attention towards them, which the world remarksas an honour to the Quaker-character at the present day. But the poorwere not the only persons, for whom, he manifested an affectionateconcern. He felt and sympathized wherever humanity could be interested. He wrote to the judges on the subject of capital punishments, warningthem not to take away the lives of persons for theft. On the coast ofCornwall he was deeply distressed at finding the inhabitants, moreintent upon plundering the wrecks of vessels that were driven upon theirshores, than upon saving the poor and miserable mariners, who wereclinging to them; and he bore his public testimony against thispractice, by sending letters to all the clergymen and magistrates in theparishes, bordering upon the sea, and reproving them for theirunchristian conduct In the West-Indies also he exhorted those, whoattended his meetings to be merciful to their slaves, and to give themtheir freedom in due time. He considered these as belonging to theirfamilies, and that religious instruction was due to these, as thebranches of them, for whom one day or other they would be required togive a solemn account. Happy had it been, if these christianexhortations had been attended to, or if those families only, whom hethus seriously addressed, had continued to be true Quakers; for theywould have set an example, which would have proved to the rest of theislanders, and the world at large, that the impolicy is not less thanthe wickedness of oppression. Thus was George Fox probably the firstperson, who publicly declared against this species of slavery. Nothingin short, that could be deplored by humanity, seems to have escaped hiseye; and his benevolence, when excited, appears to have suffered nointerruption in its progress by the obstacles, which bigotry would havethrown in the way of many, on account of the difference of a personscountry, or of his colour, or of his sect. 

He was patient under his own sufferings. To those, who smote his rightcheek, he offered his left; and, in the true spirit of christianity, heindulged no rancour against the worst of his oppressors. He made useoccasionally of a rough expression towards them; but he would never havehurt any of them, if he had had them in his power. 

He possessed the most undaunted courage; for he was afraid of no earthlypower. He was never deterred from going to meetings for worship, thoughhe knew the officers would be there, who were to seize his person. Inhis personal conversations with Oliver Cromwell, or in his letters tohim as protector, or in his letters to the parliament, or to kingCharles the second, or to any other personage, he discovered his usualboldness of character, and never lost, by means of any degradingflattery, his dignity as a man. 

But his perseverance was equal to his courage; for he was no sooner outof gaol, than he repeated the very acts, believing them to be right, forwhich he had been confined. When he was forced also out of themeeting-houses by the officers of justice, he preached at the verydoors. In short, he was never hindered but by sickness, orimprisonments, from persevering in his religious pursuits. 

With respect to his word, he was known to have held it so sacred, thatthe judges frequently dismissed him without bail, on his bare promisethat he would be forth coming on a given day. On these occasions, heused always to qualify his promise by the expression, _"if the Lordpermit. "_

Of the integrity of his own character, as a christian, he was soscrupulously tenacious, that, when he might have been sometimes set atliberty by making trifling acknowledgements, he would make none, leastit should imply a conviction, that he had been confined for that whichwas wrong; and, at one time in particular, king Charles the second wasso touched with the hardship of his case, that he offered to dischargehim from prison by a pardon. But George Fox declined it on the idea, that, as pardon implied guilt, his innocence would be called in questionby his acceptance of it. The king, however, replied, that "he need notscruple being released by a pardon, for many a man who was as innocentas a child, had had a pardon granted him. " But still he chose to declineit. And he lay in gaol, till, upon a trial of the errors in hisindictment, he was discharged in an honourable way. 

As a minister of the gospel, he was singularly eminent. He had awonderful gift in expounding the scriptures. He was particularlyimpressive in his preaching; but he excelled most in prayer. 

Here it was, that he is described by William Penn, as possessing themost awful and reverend frame he ever beheld. His presence, says thesame author, expressed "a religious majesty. " That there must have beensomething more than usually striking either in his manner, or in hislanguage, or in his arguments, or in all of them combined, or that hespoke "in the _demonstration_ of the spirit and with power, " we arewarranted in pronouncing from the general and powerful effects produced. In the year 1648, when he had but once before spoken in public, it wasobserved of him at Mansfield, at the end of his prayer, _"that it wasthen, as in the days of the apostles, when the house was shaken wherethey were. "_ In the same manner he appears to have gone on, making adeep impression upon his hearers, whenever he was fully and fairlyheard. Many clergymen, as I observed before, in consequence of hispowerful preaching, gave up their livings; and constables, who attendedthe meetings, in order to apprehend him, felt themselves disarmed, sothat they went away without attempting to secure his person. 

As to his life, it was innocent. It is true indeed, that there werepersons, high in civil offices, who, because he addressed the people inpublic, considered him as a disturber of the peace. But none of theseever pretended to cast a stain on his moral character. He was consideredboth by friends and enemies, as irreproachable in his life. 

Such was the character of the founder of Quakerism, He was born in July1624, and died on the thirteenth of November 1690, in the sixty-seventhyear of his age. He had separated himself from the word in order toattend to serious things, as I observed before, at the age of nineteen, so that he had devoted himself to the exercises and services of religionfor no less a period than forty-eight years. A few hours before hisdeath, upon some friends asking him how he found himself, he replied"never heed. All is well. The seed or power of God reigns over all, andover death itself, blessed be the Lord. " This answer was full ofcourage, and corresponded with that courage, which had been conspicuousin him during life. It contained on evidence, as manifested in his ownfeelings, of the tranquillity and happiness of his mind, and that thepower and terrors of death had been vanquished in himself. It shewedalso the ground of his courage and of his confidence. "He was full ofassurance, " says William Penn, "that he had triumphed over death, and somuch so, even to the last, that death appeared to him hardly worthnotice or mention. " Thus he departed this life, affording an instance ofthe truth of those words of the psalmist, "Behold the upright, for theend of that man is peace. "

PREFATORY ARRANGEMENTS

AND

REMARKS. 

PREFATORY ARRANGEMENTS AND REMARKS. 

QUAKERISM, A HIGH PROFESSION--QUAKERS GENERALLY ALLOWED TO BE A MORALPEOPLE--VARIOUS CAUSES OF THIS MORALITY OF CHARACTER--THEIR MORALEDUCATION, WHICH IS ONE OF THEM, THE FIRST SUBJECT FOR CONSIDERATION--THIS EDUCATION UNIVERSAL AMONG THEM--ITS ORIGIN--THE PROHIBITIONSBELONGING TO IT CHIEFLY TO BE CONSIDERED. 

 * * * * *

George Fox never gave, while living, nor left after his death, anydefinition of Quakerism. He left, however, his journal behind him, andhe left what is of equal importance, his example. Combining these withthe sentiments and practice of the early Quakers, I may state, in a fewwords, what Quakerism is, or at least what we may suppose George Foxintended it to be. 

Quakerism may be defined to be an attempt, under the divine influence, at practical christianity as far as it can be carried. Those, whoprofess it, consider themselves bound to regulate their opinions, words, actions, and even outward demeanour, by christianity, and bychristianity alone. They consider themselves bound to give up such ofthe customs, or fashions of men, however general, or generally approved, as militate, in any manner, against the letter or the spirit of thegospel. Hence they mix but little with the world, that they may be lessliable to imbibe its spirit. Hence George Fox made a distinction betweenthe members of his own society and others, by the different appellationsof _Friends_, and _People of the world_. They consider themselves alsounder an obligation to follow virtue, not ordinarily, _but even to thedeath_. For they profess never to make a sacrifice of conscience, andtherefore, if any ordinances of man are enjoined them, which they thinkto be contrary to the divine will, they believe right not to submit tothem, but rather, after the example of the apostles and primitivechristians, to suffer any loss, penalty, or inconvenience, which mayresult to them for so doing. 

This then, in a few words, is a general definition of [3]Quakerism. Itis, as we see, a most strict profession of practical virtue under thedirection of christianity, and such as, when we consider the infirmitiesof human nature, and the temptations that daily surround it, it must beexceedingly difficult to fulfil. But, whatever difficulties may havelain in the way, or however, on account of the necessary weakness ofhuman nature, the best individuals among the Quakers may have fallenbelow the pattern of excellence, which they have copied, nothing is moretrue, than that the result has been, that the whole society, as a body, have obtained from their countrymen, the character of a moral people. 

[Footnote 3: I wish to be understood, in writing this work, that I cangive no account that will be applicable to all under the name ofQuakers. My account will comprehend the general practice, or that whichought to be the practice of those, who profess Quakerism. ]

If the reader be a lover of virtue, and anxious for the moralimprovement of mankind, he will be desirous of knowing what means theQuakers have used to have preserved, for a hundred and fifty years, thisdesirable reputation in the world. 

If we were to put the question to the Quakers themselves for their ownopinion upon it, I believe I can anticipate their reply. They wouldattribute any morality, they might be supposed to have, _to the SupremeBeing_, whose will having been discovered by means of the scriptures, and of religious impressions upon the mind, when it has been calm, andstill, and abstracted from the world, they have endeavoured to obey. Butthere is no doubt, that we may add, _auxiliary causes_ of this morality, and such as the Quakers themselves would allow to have had their sharein producing it, under the same influence. The first of these may becalled their moral education. The second their discipline. The third maybe said to consist of those domestic, or other customs, which arepeculiar to them, as a society of christians. The fourth of their_peculiar tenets of religion_. In fact, there are many circumstancesinterwoven into the constitution of the society of the Quakers, each ofwhich has a separate effect, and all of which have a combined tendency, towards the production of moral character. 

These auxiliary causes I shall consider and explain in their turn. Inthe course of this explanation the reader will see, that, if otherpeople were to resort to the same means as the Quakers, they wouldobtain the same reputation, or that human nature is not so stubborn, butthat it will yield to a given force. But as it is usual, in examiningthe life of an individual, to begin with his youth, or, if it has beeneminent, to begin with the education he has received, so I shall fixupon the first of the auxiliary causes I have mentioned, or the _moraleducation_ of the Quakers, as the subject for the first division of mywork. 

Of this moral education I may observe here, that it is universal amongthe society, or that it obtains where the individuals are considered tobe true Quakers. It matters not, how various the tempers of youngpersons may be, who come under it, they must submit to it. Nor does itsignify what may be the disposition, or the whim, and caprice of theirparents, they must submit to it alike. The Quakers believe that theyhave discovered that system of morality, which christianity prescribes;and therefore that they can give no dispensation to their members, underany circumstances whatever, to deviate from it. The origin of thissystem, as a standard of education in the society, is as follows. 

When the first Quakers met in union, they consisted of religious orspiritually minded men. From that time to the present, there has alwaysbeen, as we may imagine, a succession of such in the society. Many ofthese, at their great meetings, which have been annual since those days, have delivered their sentiments on various interesting points. Thesesentiments were regularly printed, in the form of yearly epistles, anddistributed among Quaker families. Extracts, in process of time, weremade from them, and arranged under different heads, and published in onebook, under the name of [4]Advices. Now these advices comprehendimportant subjects. They relate to customs, manners, fashions, conversation, conduct. They contain of course _recommendations_, andsuggest _prohibitions_, to the society, as _rules of guidance:_ and asthey came from spiritually _minded_ men on _solemn occasions_, they aresupposed to have had a _spiritual origin_. Hence Quaker parents managetheir youth according to these _recommendations_ and _prohibitions_, andhence this book of extracts (for so it is usually called) from which Ihave obtained a considerable portion of my knowledge on this subject, forms the basis of the moral Education of the Society. 

[Footnote 4: The Book is intitled "Extracts from the minutes made, andfrom the advices given, at the yearly Meeting of the Quakers in London, since its first Institution. "]

Of the contents of this book, I shall notice, while I am treating uponthis subject, not those rules which are of a recommendatory, but those, which are of a _prohibitory nature_. Education is regulated either byrecommendations, or by prohibitions, or by both conjoined. The formerrelate to things, where there is a wish that youth should conform tothem, but where a trifling deviation from them would not be consideredas an act of delinquency publicly reprehensible. The latter to things, where any compliance with them becomes a positive offence. The Quakers, in consequence of the vast power they have over their members by meansof their discipline, lay a great stress upon the latter. They considertheir prohibitions, when duly watched and enforced, as so many _barriersagainst vice_ or _preservatives of virtue_. Hence they are the grandcomponent parts of their moral education, and hence I shall chieflyconsider them in the chapters, which are now to follow upon thissubject. 

MORAL EDUCATION OF THE QUAKERS. 

CHAP. I. 

_Moral Education of the Quakers--amusements necessary for youth--Quakersdistinguish between the useful and the hurtful--the latter specified andforbidden. _

When the blooming spring sheds abroad its benign influence, man feels itequally with the rest of created nature. The blood circulates morefreely, and a new current of life seems to be diffused, in his veins. The aged man is enlivened, and the sick man feels himself refreshed. Good spirits and cheerful countenances succeed. But as the year changesin its seasons, and rolls round to its end, the tide seems to slacken, and the current of feeling to return to its former level. 

But this is not the case with the young. The whole year to them is akind of perpetual spring. Their blood runs briskly throughout. Theirspirits are kept almost constantly alive; and as the cares of the worldoccasion no drawback, they feel a perpetual disposition to cheerfulnessand to mirth. This disposition seems to be universal in them. It seemstoo to be felt by us all; that is, the spring, enjoyed by youth, seemsto operate as spring to maturer age. The sprightly and smiling looks ofchildren, their shrill, lively, and cheerful voices, their varied andexhilarating sports, all these are interwoven with the other objects ofour senses, and have an imperceptible, though an undoubted influence, inadding to the cheerfulness of our minds. Take away the beautifulchoristers from the woods, and those, who live in the country, would buthalf enjoy the spring. So, if by means of any unparalleled pestilence, the children of a certain growth were to be swept away, and we were tolose this infantile link in the chain of age, those, who were leftbehind, would find the creation dull, or experience an interruption inthe cheerfulness of their feelings, till the former were successivelyrestored. 

The bodies, as well as the minds of children, require exercise for theirgrowth: and as their disposition is thus lively and sportive, suchexercises, as are amusing, are necessary, and such amusements, onaccount of the length of the spring which they enjoy, must be expectedto be long. 

The Quakers, though they are esteemed an austere people, are sensible ofthese wants or necessities of youth. They allow their children most ofthe sports or exercises of the body, and most of the amusements orexercises of the mind, which other children of the island enjoy; but aschildren are to become _men_, and men are to become _moral characters_, they believe that bounds should be drawn, or that an unlimitedpermission to follow every recreation would be hurtful. 

The Quakers therefore have thought it proper to interfere on thissubject, and to draw the line between those amusements, which theyconsider to be salutary, and those, which they consider to be hurtful. They have accordingly struck out of the general list of these such, andsuch only, as, by being likely to endanger their morality, would belikely to interrupt the usefulness, and the happiness, of their lives. Among the bodily exercises, _dancing_, and the _diversions of thefield_, have been proscribed; among the mental, _music_, _novels_, the_theatre_, and all games of _chance_, of every description, have beenforbidden. These are the principal prohibitions, which the Quakers havemade on the subject of their moral education. They were suggested, mostof them, by George Fox, but were brought into the discipline, atdifferent times, by his successors. 

I shall now consider each of these prohibitions separately, and I shallgive all the reasons, which the Quakers themselves give, why, as asociety of Christians, they have, thought it right to issue and enforcethem. 

CHAP. II . .. SECT. I. 

_Games of chance--Quakers forbid cards, dice, and other similaramusements--also, concerns in lotteries--and certain transactions in thestocks--they forbid also all wagers, and speculations by a moniedstake--the peculiar wisdom of the latter prohibition, as collected fromthe history of the origin of some of the amusements of the times_. 

When we consider the depravity of heart, and the misery and ruin, thatare frequently connected with gaming, it would be strange indeed, if theQuakers, as highly professing Christians, had not endeavoured toextirpate it from their own body. 

No people, in fact, have taken more or more effectual measures for itssuppression. They have proscribed the use of all games of chance, and ofall games of skill, that are connected with chance in any manner. Hence_cards_, _dice_, _horse-racing_, _cock-fighting_, and all theamusements, which come under this definition, are forbidden. 

But as there are certain transactions, independently of theseamusements, which are equally connected with hazard, and whichindividuals might convert into the means of moral depravity and temporalruin, they have forbidden these also, by including them under theappellation of gaming. 

Of this description are concerns in the lottery, from which all Quakersare advised to refrain. These include the purchase of tickets, and allinsurance upon the same. 

In transactions of this kind there is always a monied stake, and theissue is dependent upon chance. There is of course the same fascinatingstimulus as in cards, or dice, arising from the hope of gain. The mindalso must be equally agitated between hope and fear; and the same stateof desperation may be produced, with other fatal consequences, in theevent of loss. 

Buying and selling in the public stocks of the kingdom is, underparticular circumstances, discouraged also. Where any of the members ofthe society buy into the stocks, under the idea, that they are likely toobtain better security, or more permanent advantages, such a transfer oftheir property is allowable. But if any were to make a practice ofbuying or selling, week after week, upon speculation only, such apractice would come under the denomination of gaming. In this case, likethe preceding, it is evident, that money would be the object in view;that the issue would be hazardous; and, if the stake or deposit were ofgreat importance, the tranquillity of the mind might be equallydisturbed, and many temporal sufferings might follow. 

The Quakers have thought it right, upon the same principle, to forbidthe custom of laying wagers upon any occasion whatever, or of reapingadvantage from any doubtful event, by a previous agreement upon a moniedstake. This prohibition, however, is not on record, like the former, butis observed as a traditional law. No Quaker-parent would suffer hischild, nor Quaker-schoolmaster the children entrusted to his care, norany member another, to be concerned in amusements of this kind, withouta suitable reproof. 

By means of these prohibitions, which are enforced, in a great measure, by the discipline, the Quakers have put a stop to gaming moreeffectually than others, but particularly by means of the latter. Forhistory has shewn us, that we cannot always place a reliance on a mereprohibition of any particular amusement or employment, as a cure forgaming, because any pastime or employment, however innocent in itself, may be made an instrument for its designs. There are few customs, however harmless, which avarice cannot convert into the means of rapineon the one hand, and of distress on the other. 

Many of the games, which are now in use with such pernicious effects toindividuals, were not formerly the instruments of private ruin. Horse-racing was originally instituted with a view of promoting a betterbreed of horses for the services of man. Upon this principle it wascontinued. It afforded no private emolument to any individual. Theby-standers were only spectators. They were not interested in thevictory. The victor himself was remunerated not with money, but withcrowns and garlands, the testimonies of public applause. But the spiritof gaming got hold of the custom, and turned it into a privatediversion, which was to afford the opportunity of a private prize. 

Cock-fighting, as we learn from Ælian, was instituted by the Athenians, immediately after their victory over the Persians, to perpetuate thememory of the event, and to stimulate the courage of the youth of Greecein the defence of their own freedom; and it was continued upon the sameprinciple, or as a public institution for a public good. But the spiritof avarice seized it, as it has done the custom of horse-racing, andcontinued it for a private gain. 

Cards, that is, European cards, were, as all are agreed, of an harmlessorigin. Charles the sixth, of France, was particularly afflicted withthe hypochondriasis. While in this disordered state, one of his subjectsinvented them, to give variety of amusement to his mind. From the courtthey passed into private families. And here the same avaricious spiritfastened upon them, and, with its cruel talons, clawed them, as it were, to its own purposes, not caring how much these little instruments ofcheerfulness in human disease were converted into instruments for theextension of human pain. 

In the same manner as the spirit of gaming has seized upon thesedifferent institutions and amusements of antiquity, and turned them fromtheir original to new and destructive uses, so there is no certainty, that it will not seize upon others, which may have been innocentlyresorted to, and prostitute them equally with the former. The mereprohibition of particular amusements, even if it could be enforced, would be no cure for the evil. The brain of man is fertile enough, asfast as one custom is prohibited, to fix upon another. And if all thegames, now in use, were forbidden, it would be still fertile enough toinvent others for the same purposes. The bird that flies in the air, andthe snail, that crawls upon the ground, have not escaped the notice ofthe gamester, but have been made, each of them, subservient to hispursuits. The wisdom, therefore, of the Quakers, in making it to beconsidered as a law of the society, that no member is to lay wagers, orreap advantage from any doubtful event, by a previous agreement upon amonied stake, is particularly conspicuous. For, whenever it can beenforced, it must be an effectual cure for gaming. For we have no idea, how a man can gratify his desire of gain by means of any of theamusements of chance, if he can make no monied arrangements about theirissue. 

SECT. II. 

_The first argument for the prohibition of cards, and of similaramusements, by the Quakers, is--that they are below the dignity of theintellect of man, and of his moral and christian character--sentimentsof Addison on this subject_. 

The reasons, which the Quakers give for the prohibition of cards, and ofamusements of a similar nature, to the members of their own society, aregenerally such as are given by other Christians, though they make use ofone, which is peculiar to themselves. 

It has been often observed, that the word amusement is proper tocharacterize the employments of children, but that the word utility isthe only one proper to characterize the employment of men. 

The first argument of the Quakers, on this subject, is of a complexion, similar to that of the observation just mentioned. For when theyconsider man, as a reasonable being, they are of opinion, that hisoccupations should be rational. And when they consider him as making aprofession of the Christian religion, they expect that his conductshould be manly, serious, and dignified. But all such amusements, asthose in question, if resorted to for the filling up of his vacanthours, they conceive to be unworthy of his intellect, and to be belowthe dignity of his Christian character. 

They believe also, when they consider man as a moral being, that it ishis duty, as it is unquestionably his interest, to aim at theimprovement of his moral character. Now one of the foundations, on whichthis improvement must be raised, is knowledge. But knowledge is onlyslowly acquired. And human life, or the time for the acquisition of it, is but short. It does not appear, therefore, in the judgment of theQuakers, that a person can have much time for amusements of this sort, if he be bent upon obtaining that object, which will be most conduciveto his true happiness, or to the end of his existence here. 

Upon this first argument of the Quakers I shall only observe, lest itshould be thought singular, that sentiments of a similar import are tobe found in authors, of a different religious denomination, and ofacknowledged judgment and merit. Addison, in one of his excellentchapters on the proper employment of life, has the followingobservation: "The next method, says he, that I would propose to fill upour time should be innocent and useful diversions. I must confess Ithink it is below reasonable creatures, to be altogether conversant insuch diversions, as are merely innocent, and have nothing else torecommend them, but that there is no hurt in them. Whether any kind ofgaming has even thus much to say for itself I shall not determine: but Ithink it is very wonderful to see persons of the best sense passing adozen hours together in shuffling and dividing a pack of cards, with noother conversation, but what is made up of a few game-phrases, and noother ideas, but those of red or black spots ranged together indifferent figures. Would not a man laugh to hear any one of this speciescomplaining that life is short?"

SECT. III. 

_Cards on account of the manner in which they are generally used, produce an excitement of the passions--historical anecdotes of thisexcitement--this excitement another cause of their prohibition by theQuakers, because it unfits the mind, according to their notions, for thereception of religious impressions_. 

The Quakers are not so superstitious as to imagine that there can be anyevil in cards, considered abstractedly as cards, or in some of the otheramusements, that have been mentioned. The red or the black images ontheir surfaces can neither pollute the fingers, nor the minds, of thosewho handle them. They may be moved about, and dealt in various ways, andno objectionable consequences may follow. They nay be used, and thisinnocently, to construct the similitudes of things. They may bearranged, so as to exhibit devices, which may be productive of harmlessmirth. The evil, connected with them, will depend solely upon the mannerof their use. If they are used for a trial of skill, and for thispurpose only, they will be less dangerous, than where they are used fora similar trial, with a monied stake. In the former case, however, theymay be made to ruffle the temper, for, in the very midst of victory, thecombatant may experience defeat. In the latter case, the loss ofvictory will be accompanied by a pecuniary loss, and two causes, insteadof one, of the excitement of the passions, will operate at once upon themind. 

It seldom happens, and it is much to be lamented, either that children, or that more mature persons, are satisfied with amusements of this kind, so as to use them simply as trials of skill. A monied stake is usuallyproposed, as the object to be obtained. This general attachment of amonied victory to cards is productive frequently of evil. It generatesoften improper feelings. It gives birth to uneasiness and impatience, while the contest is in doubt, and not unfrequently to anger andresentment, when it is over. 

But the passions, which are thus excited among youth, are excited also, but worked up to greater mischief, where grown up persons follow theseamusements imprudently, than where children are concerned. For thoughavarice, and impatience, and anger, are called forth among children, they subside sooner. A boy, though he loses his all when he loses hisstake, suffers nothing from the idea of having impaired the means of hisfuture comfort, and independence. His next week's allowance, or the nextlittle gift, will set him right again. But when a grown up person, whois settled in the world, is led on by these fascinating amusements, soas to lose that which would be of importance to his present comfort, but more particularly to the happiness of his future life, the case ismaterially altered. The same passions, which harass the one, will harassthe other, but the effects will be widely different. I have been toldthat persons have been so agitated before the playing of the card, thatwas to decide their destiny, that large drops of sweat have fallen fromtheir faces, though they were under no bodily exertions. Now, what musthave been the state of their minds, when the card in question proveddecisive of their loss? Reason must unquestionably have fled. And itmust have been succeeded instantly either by fury or despair. It wouldnot have been at all wonderful, if persons in such a state were to havelost their senses, or, if unable to contain themselves, they wereimmediately to have vented their enraged feelings either uponthemselves, or upon others, who were the authors, or the spectators, oftheir loss. 

It is not necessary to have recourse to the theory of the human mind, toanticipate the consequences, that would be likely to result to grown uppersons from such an extreme excitement of the passions. History hasgiven a melancholy picture of these, as they have been observable amongdifferent nations of the world. 

The ancient Germans, according to Tacitus, played to such desperation, that, when they had lost every thing else, they staked their personalliberty, and, in the event of bad fortune, became the slaves of thewinners. 

D'Israeli, in his curiosities of literature, has given us the followingaccount. "Dice, says he, and that little pugnacious animal, the cock, are the chief instruments employed by the numerous nations of the east, to agitate their minds, and ruin their fortunes, to which the Chinese, who are desperate gamesters, add the use of cards. When all otherproperty is played away, the Asiatic gambler does not scruple to stakehis wife, or his child, on the cast of a dye, or on the strength andcourage of a martial bird. If still unsuccessful, the last venture ishimself. "

"In the island of Ceylon, cock-fighting is carried to a great height. The Sumatrans are addicted to the use of dice. A strong spirit of playcharacterizes the Malayan. After having resigned every thing to the goodfortune of the winner, he is reduced to a horrid state of desperation. He then loosens a certain lock of hair, which indicates war anddestruction to all he meets. He intoxicates himself with opium, andworking himself to a fit of frenzy, he bites and kills every one, whocomes in his way. But as soon as ever this lock is seen flowing, it islawful to fire at the person, and to destroy him as soon as possible. "

"To discharge their gambling debts, the Siamese sell their possessions, their families, and at length themselves. The Chinese play night andday, till they have lost all they are worth, and then they usually goand hang themselves. In the newly discovered islands of the PacificOcean, they venture even their hatchets, which they hold as invaluableacquisitions, on running matches. We saw a man, says Cooke, in his lastvoyage, beating his breast and tearing his hair in the violence of rage, for having lost three hatchets at one of these races, and which he hadpurchased with nearly half of his property. "

But it is not necessary to go beyond our own country for a confirmationof these evils. Civilized as we are beyond all the people who have beenmentioned, and living where the Christian religion is professed, we havethe misfortune to see our own countrymen engaged in similar pursuits, and equally to the disturbance of the tranquillity of their minds, andequally to their own ruin. They cannot, it is true, stake their personalliberty, because they can neither sell themselves, nor be held asslaves. But we see them staking their comfort, and all their prospectsin life. We see them driven into a multitude of crimes. We see themsuffering in a variety of ways. How often has duelling, with all itshorrible effects, been the legitimate offspring of gaming! How manysuicides have proceeded from the same source! How many persons inconsequence of a violation of the laws, occasioned solely by gaming, have come to ignominious and untimely ends!

Thus it appears that gaming, wherever it has been practised to excess, whether by cards, or by dice, or by other instruments, or whether amongnations civilized or barbarous, or whether in ancient or modern times, has been accompanied with the most violent excitement of the passions, so as to have driven its votaries to desperation, and to have ruinedtheir morality and their happiness. 

It is upon the excitement of the passions, which must have risen to afurious height, before such desperate actions as those, which have beenspecified, could have commenced, that the Quakers have founded theirsecond argument for the prohibition of games of chance, or of anyamusements or transactions, connected with a monied stake. It is one oftheir principal tenets, as will be diffusively shewn in a future volume, that the supreme Creator of the universe affords a certain portion ofhis own spirit, or a certain emanation of the pure principle, to all hisrational creatures, for the regulation of their spiritual concerns. Theybelieve, therefore, that stillness and quietness, both of spirit and ofbody, are necessary for them, as far as these can be obtained. For howcan a man, whose earthly passions are uppermost, be in a fit state toreceive, or a man of noisy and turbulent habits be in a fit state toattend to, the spiritual admonitions of this pure influence? Hence oneof the first points in the education of the Quakers is to attend to thesubjugation of the will; to take care that every perverse passion bechecked; and that the creature be rendered calm and passive. HenceQuaker children are rebuked for all expressions of anger, as tending toraise those feelings, which ought to be suppressed. A raising even oftheir voices beyond due bounds is discouraged, as leading to thedisturbance of their minds. They are taught to rise in the morning inquietness, to go about their ordinary occupations with quietness, and toretire in quietness to their beds. Educated in this manner, we seldomsee a noisy or an irascible Quaker. This kind of education is universalamong the Quakers. It is adopted at home. It is adopted in theirschools. The great and practical philanthropist, John Howard, when hewas at Ackworth, which is the great public school of the Quakers, was sostruck with the quiet deportment of the children there, that hementioned it with approbation in his work on Lazarettos, and gave to thepublic some of its rules, as models for imitation in other seminaries. 

But if the Quakers believe that this pure principle, when attended to, is an infallible guide to them in their religious or spiritual concerns;if they believe that its influences are best discovered in the quietnessand silence of their senses; if, moreover, they educate with a view ofproducing such a calm and tranquil state; it must be obvious, that theycan never allow either to their children, or to those of maturer years, the use of any of the games of chance, because these, on account oftheir peculiar nature, are so productive of sudden fluctuations of hope, and fear, and joy, and disappointment, that they are calculated, morethan any other, to promote a turbulence of the human passions. 

SECT. IV. 

_Another cause of their prohibition is, that, if indulged in, they mayproduce habits of gaming--these habits after the moral character-theyoccasion men to become avaricious--dishonest--cruel--and disturbers ofthe order of nature--observations by Hartley from his essay on man. _

Another reason, why the Quakers do not allow their members the use ofcards, and of similar amusements, is, that, if indulged in, they mayproduce habits of gaming, which, if once formed, generally ruin themoral character. 

It is in the nature of cards, that chance should have the greatest sharein the production of victory, and there is, as I have observed before, usually a monied stake. But where chance is concerned, neither victorynor defeat can be equally distributed among the combatants. If a personwins, he feels himself urged to proceed. The amusement also points outto him the possibility of a sudden acquisition of fortune without theapplication of industry. If he loses, he does not despair. He stillperseveres in the contest, for the amusement points out to him thepossibility of repairing his loss. In short, there is no end of hopeupon these occasions. It is always hovering about during the contest. Cards, therefore, and amusements of the same nature, by holding upprospects of pecuniary acquisitions on the one hand, and of repairinglosses, that may arise on any occasion, on the other, have a directtendency to produce habits of gaming. 

Now the Quakers consider these habits as, of all others, the mostpernicious; for they usually change the disposition of a man, and ruinhis moral character. 

From generous-hearted they make him avaricious. The covetousness too, which they introduce as it were into his nature, is of a kind, that ismore than ordinarily injurious. It brings disease upon the body, as itbrings corruption upon the mind. Habitual gamesters regard neither theirown health, nor their own personal convenience, but will sit up nightafter night, though under bodily indisposition, at play, if they canonly grasp the object of their pursuit. 

From a just and equitable they often render him a dishonest person. Professed gamesters, it is well known, lie in wait for the young, theignorant, and the unwary: and they do not hesitate to adopt fraudulentpractices to secure them as their prey. In toxication has been alsofrequently resorted to for the same purpose. 

From humane and merciful they change him into hard hearted andbarbarous. Habitual gamesters have compassion foe neither men norbrutes. The former they can ruin and leave destitute, without thesympathy of a tear. The latter they can oppress to death, calculatingthe various powers of their declining strength, and their capability ofenduring pain. 

They convert him from an orderly to a disorderly being, and to adisturber of the order of the universe. Professed gamesters sacrificeevery thing, without distinction, to their wants, not caring if theorder of nature, or if the very ends of creation, be reversed. They turnday into night, and night into day. They force animated nature intosituations for which it was never destined. They lay their hands uponthings innocent and useful, and make them noxious. They by hold ofthings barbarous, and render them still more barbarous by theirpollutions. 

Hartley, in his essay upon man, has the following observation upongaming. 

"The practice of playing at games of chance and skill is one of theprincipal amusements of life. And it may be thought hard to condemn itas absolutely unlawful, since there are particular cases of persons, infirm in body and mind, where it seems requisite to draw them out ofthemselves by a variety of ideas and ends in view, which gently engagethe attention. --But the reason takes place in very few instances. --Thegeneral motives to play are avarice, joined with a fraudulent intentionexplicit or implicit, ostentation of skill, and spleen, through thewant of some serious, useful occupation. And as this practice arisesfrom such corrupt sources, so it has a tendency to increase them; andindeed may be considered as an express method of begetting andinculcating self-interest, ill will, envy, and the like. For by gaming aman learns to pursue his own interest solely and explicitly, and torejoice at the loss of others, as his own gain, grieve at their gain, ashis own loss, thus entirely reversing the order established byprovidence for social creatures. "

CHAP. III. .. .. SECT. I. 

_Music forbidden--general apology for the Quakers on account of theirprohibition of so delightful a science--music particularly abused at thepresent day--wherein this abuse consists--present use of it almostinseparable from the abuse. _

Plato, when he formed what he called his pure republic, would not allowmusic to have any place in it. George Fox and his followers were ofopinion, that it could not be admitted in a system of pure Christianity. The modern Quakers have not differed from their predecessors on thissubject; and therefore music is understood to be prohibited throughoutthe society at the present day. 

It will doubtless appear strange that there should be found people, toobject to an art, which is capable of being made productive of so muchpleasurable feeling, and which, if it be estimated either by the extentor the rapidity of its progress, is gaining in the reputation of theworld. But it may be observed that "all that glitters is not gold. " Soneither is all, that pleases the ear, perfectly salubrious to the mind. There are few customs, against which some argument or other may not beadvanced: few in short, which man has not perverted, and where the usehas not become, in an undue measure, connected with the abuse. 

Providence gave originally to man a beautiful and a perfect world. Hefilled it with things necessary and things delightful. And yet man hasoften turned these from their true and original design. The very wood onthe surface of the earth he has cut down, and the very stone and metalin its bowels he has hewn and cast, and converted into a graven image, and worshipped in the place of his beneficent Creator. The food, whichhas been given him for his nourishment, he has frequently converted byhis intemperance into the means of injuring his health. The wine thatwas designed to make his heart glad on reasonable and necessaryoccasions, he has used often to the stupefaction of his senses, and thedegradation of his moral character. The very raiment, which has beenafforded him for his body, he has abused also, so that it has frequentlybecome a source for the excitement of his pride. 

Just so it has been, and so it is, with music at the present day. 

Music acts upon our senses, and may be made productive of a kind ofnatural delight, for in the same manner as we receive, through the organof the eye, a kind of involuntary pleasure, when we look at beautifularrangements, or combinations, or proportions, in nature, and thepleasure may be said to be natural, so the pleasure is neither less, norless involuntary, nor less natural, which we receive, through the organof the ear, from a combination of sounds flowing in musical progression. 

The latter pleasure, as it seems natural, so, under certain limitations, it seems innocent. The first tendency of music, I mean of instrumental, is to calm and tranquillize the passions. The ideas, which it excites, are of the social, benevolent, and pleasant kind. It leads occasionallyto joy, to grief, to tenderness, to sympathy, but never to malevolence, ingratitude, anger, cruelty, or revenge. For no combination of musicalsounds can be invented, by which the latter passions can be excited inthe mind, without the intervention of the human voice. 

But notwithstanding that music may be thus made the means both ofinnocent and pleasurable feeling, yet it has been the misfortune of man, as mother cases, to abuse it, and never probably more than in thepresent age. For the use of it, as it is at present taught, is almostinseparable from its abuse. Music has been so generally cultivated, andto such perfection, that it now ceases to delight the ear, unless itcomes from the fingers of the proficient. But great proficiency cannotbe obtained in this science, without great sacrifices of time. If youngfemales are to be brought up to it, rather as to a profession, thanintroduced to it as a source of occasional innocent recreation, or iftheir education is thought most perfect, where their musical attainmentsare the highest, not only hours, but even years, must be devoted to thepursuit. Such a devotion to this one object must, it is obvious, leaveless time than is proper for others, that are more important. Theknowledge of domestic occupations, and the various sorts of knowledge, that are acquired by reading, must be abridged, in proportion as thisscience is cultivated to professional precision. And hence, independently of any arguments, which the Quakers may advance againstit, it must be acknowledged by the sober world to be chargeable with acriminal waste of time. And this waste of time is the more to bedeprecated, because it frequently happens, that, when young femalesmarry, music is thrown aside, after all the years that have been spentin its acquisition, as an employment, either then unnecessary, or as anemployment, which, amidst the new cares of a family, they have notleisure to follow. 

Another serious charge may be advanced against music, as it is practisedat the present day. Great proficiency, without which music now ceases tobe delightful, cannot, as I have just observed, be made without greatapplication, or the application of some years. Now all this longapplication is of a sedentary nature. But all occupations of a sedentarynature are injurious to the human constitution, and weaken and disorderit in time. But in proportion as the body is thus weakened by thesedentary nature of the employment, it is weakened again by theenervating powers of the art. Thus the nervous system is acted upon bytwo enemies at once, and in the course of the long education necessaryfor this science, the different disorders of hysteria are produced. Hence the females of the present age, amongst whom this art has beencultivated to excess, are generally found to have a weak and languidconstitution, and to be disqualified, more than others, from becominghealthy wives, or healthy mothers, or the parents of a healthy progeny. 

SECT. II. 

_Instrumental forbidden--Quakers cannot learn it on the motives of theworld--it is not conducive to the improvement of the moralcharacter--affords no solid ground of comfort--nor of true elevation ofmind--a sensual gratification--remarks of Cowper--and, if encouraged, would interfere with the duty recommended by the Quakers, of frequentreligious retirement. _

The reader must always bear it in his mind, if the Quakers should differfrom him on any particular subject, that they set themselves apart as achristian community, aiming at christian perfection: that it is theirwish to educate their children, not as moralists or as philosophers, butas christians; and that therefore, in determining the propriety of apractice, they will frequently judge of it by an estimate, verydifferent from that of the world. 

The Quakers do not deny that instrumental music is capable of excitingdelight. They are not insensible either of its power or of its charms. They throw no imputation on its innocence, when viewed abstractly byitself; but they do not see anything in it sufficiently useful, to makeit an object of education, or so useful, as to counterbalance otherconsiderations, which make for its disuse. 

The Quakers would think it wrong to indulge in their families the usualmotives for the acquisition of this science. Self-gratification, whichis one of them, and reputation in the world, which is the other, are notallowable in the Christian system. Add to which that where there is adesire for such reputation, an emulative disposition is generallycherished, and envy and vain glory are often excited in the pursuit. 

They are of opinion also, that the learning of this art does not tend topromote the most important object of education, the improvement of themind. When a person is taught the use of letters, he is put into the wayof acquiring natural, historical, religious, and other branches ofknowledge, and of course of improving his intellectual and moralcharacter. But music has no pretensions, in the opinion of the Quakers, to the production of such an end. Polybius, indeed relates, that hecould give no solid reason, why one tribe of the Arcadians should havebeen so civilized, and the others so barbarous, but that the former werefond, and the latter were ignorant of music. But the Quakers wouldargue, that if music had any effect in the civilization, this effectwould be seen in the manners, and not in the morals of mankind. MusicalItalians are esteemed a soft and effeminate, but they are generallyreputed a depraved people. Music, in short, though it breathes softinfluences, cannot yet breathe morality into the mind. It may do tosoften savages, but a christian community, in the opinion of theQuakers, can admit of no better civilization, than that which the spiritof the supreme being, and an observance of the pure precepts ofchristianity, can produce. 

Music, again, does not appear to the Quakers to be the foundation of anysolid comfort in life. It may give spirits for the moment as strongliquor does, but when the effect of the liquor is over, the spiritsflag, and the mind is again torpid. It can give no solid encouragementnor hope, nor prospects. It can afford no anchorage ground, which shallhold the mind in a storm. The early christians, imprisoned, beaten andpersecuted even to death, would have had but poor consolation, if theyhad not had a better friend than music to have relied upon in the hourof their distress. And here I think the Quakers would particularlycondemn music, if they thought it could be resorted to in the hour ofaffliction, in as much as it would then have a tendency to divert themind from its true and only support. 

Music, again, does not appear to them to be productive of elevatedthoughts, that is, of such thoughts as raise the mind to sublime andspiritual things, abstracted from the inclinations, the temper, and theprejudices of the world. The most melodious sounds that humaninstruments can make, are from the earth earthly. But nothing can risehigher than its own origin. All true elevation therefore can only come, in the opinion of the Quakers, from the divine source. 

The Quakers therefore, seeing no moral utility in music, cannot make ita part of their education. But there are other considerations, of adifferent nature, which influence them in the same way. 

Music, in the first place, is a sensual gratification. Even those whorun after sacred music, never consider themselves as going to a place ofdevotion, but where, in full concert, they may hear the performance ofthe master pieces of the art. This attention to religious compositions, for the sake of the music, has been noticed by one of our best poets. 

 "and ten thousand sit, Patiently present at a sacred song, Commemoration-mad, content to hear, O wonderful effect of music's power, Messiah's eulogy for Handal's sake!" COWPER. 

But the Quakers believe, that all sensual desires should be held in duesubordination to the pure principle, or that sensual pleasures should bediscouraged, to much as possible, as being opposed to those spiritualfeeling, which constitute the only perfect enjoyment of a christian. 

Music, again, if it were encouraged in the society, would be consideredas depriving those of maturer years of hours of comfort, which they nowfrequently enjoy, in the service of religion. Retirement is consideredby the Quakers as a christian duty. The members therefore of thissociety are expected to wait in silence, not only in their places ofworship, but occasionally in their families, or in their privatechambers, in the intervals of their daily occupations, that, instillness of heart, and in freedom from the active contrivance of theirown wills, they may acquire both directions and strength for theperformance of the duties of life. The Quakers therefore are of opinion, that, if instrumental music were admitted as a gratification in leisurehours, it would take the place of many of these serious retirements, andbecome very injurious to their interests and their character aschristians. 

SECT. III

_Vocal music forbidden--singing in itself no more immoral than reading--but as vocal music articulates ideas, it may convey poison to the mind--some ideas in songs contrary to Quaker notions of morality--asin hunting songs--or in baccanalian--or in martial--youth make no selection--but learn off that fall in their way. _

It is an observation of Lactantius, that the "pleasures we receivethrough the organ of the ears, may be as injurious as those we receive, through the organ of the eyes. " He does not, however, consider theeffect of instrumental music as much to be regarded, "because sounds, which proceed from air, are soon gone, and they give birth to nosentiments that can be recorded. Songs, on the other hand, or soundsfrom the voice, may have an injurious influence on the mind. "

The Quakers, in their view of this subject, make the same distinction asthis ancient father of the church. They have a stronger objection, if itbe possible, to vocal, than to instrumental music. Instrumental music, though it is considered to be productive of sensual delight, is yetconsidered as incapable, on account of its inability to articulate, orits inability to express complex ideas, of conveying either unjust orimpure sentiments to the mind. Vocal, on the other hand, is capable ofconveying to it poison of this sort. For vocal music consists of songs, or of words musically expressed by the human voice. But words are therepresentatives of ideas, and, as for as these ideas are pure orotherwise, so far may vocal music be rendered innocent or immoral. 

The mere singing, it must be obvious, can be no more immoral than thereading, of the same song, singing is but another mode of expressing it. The morality of the action will depend upon the words which it maycontain. If the words in a song are pure, if the sentiments in it arejust, and if it be the tendency of these to awaken generous and virtuoussympathies, the song will operate no otherwise than a lesson ofmorality. And will a lesson of morality be less serviceable to us, because it is dressed up in poetry and musically expressed by the humanvoice, than when it is conveyed to us in prose? But if, on the otherhand, the words in a song are in themselves unchaste, if they inculcatefalse honour, if they lead to false opinions, if they suggestsentiments, that have a tendency to produce depraved feelings, thenvocal music, by which these are conveyed in pleasing accents to the ear, becomes a destroyer of morals, and cannot therefore be encouraged byany, who consider parity of heart, as required by the christianreligion. Now the Quakers are of opinion, that the songs of the worldcontain a great deal of objectionable matter in these respects; and thatif they were to be promiscuously taken up by children, who have nopowers of discriminating between the good and the bad, and who generallylay hold of all that fall in their way, they would form a system ofsentimental maxims, very injurious in their tendency to their moralcharacter. 

If we were to take a collection of songs as published in books, and wereto examine these, we should find that such a system might easily beformed. And if, again, we were to examine the sentiments contained inmany of these, by the known sentiments of the Quakers on the severalsubjects of each, we should find that, as a highly professing people, more objections would arise against vocal music among them, than amongother people. 

Let us, for example, just glance at that class of songs, which in thecollection would be called hunting songs. In these men are invited tothe pleasures of the chase, as to pleasures of a superior kind. Thetriumphs over the timid hare are celebrated in these with a kind ofenthusiastic joy, and celebrated too as triumphs, worthy of thecharacter of men. Glory Is even attached to these pursuits. But theQuakers, as it will appear in a future chapter, endeavour to preventtheir youth from following any of the diversions of the field. Theyconsider pleasures as placed on a false foundation, and triumphs asunmanly and inglorious, which are founded on circumstances, connectedwith the sufferings of the brute creation. They cannot therefore approveof songs of this order, because they consider them as disseminatingsentiments that are both unreasonable and cruel. 

Let us now go to another class, which may be found in the samecollection; I mean the bacchanalian. Men are invited here to sacrificefrequently at the shrine of Bacchus. Joy, good humour, and fine spirits, are promised to those, who pour out their libations in a liberal manner. An excessive use of wine, which injures the constitution, and stupifiesthe faculties, instead of being censured in these songs is sometimesrecommended in them, as giving to nature that occasional stimulus, whichis deemed necessary to health. Poets too, in their songs, haveconsidered the day as made only for vulgar souls, but the night for thebetter sort of people, that they may the better pursue the pleasures ofthe bottle. Others have gone so far in their songs, as to promise longlife as a consequence of drinking; while others, who confess that humanlife may be shortened by such means, take care to throw out, that, as aman's life thus becomes proportionably abridged, it is renderedproportionably a merry one. Now the Quakers are so particularly carefulwith respect to the use of wine and spirituous liquors, that the societyare annually and publicly admonished to beware of excess. Quakers arediscouraged from going even to inns but for the purposes of business andrefreshment, and are admonished to take care, that they stay there nolonger than is necessary for such purposes. The Quakers therefore, cannot be supposed to approve of any of the songs of this class, as faras they recommend or promote drunkenness. And they cannot but considerthem as containing sentiments injurious to the morals of their children. 

But let us examine another class of songs, that may be found in the samecollection. These may be denominated martial. Now what is generally thetenor of these songs? The authors celebrate victories. They endeavour, regardless of the question, whether their own cause be a right or awrong one, to excite joy at the events, it is their aim frequently torouse the soul to the performance of martial exploits, as to exploitsthe fullest of human glory. They frequently threaten enemies with newchastisements, and new victories, and breathe the spirit of revenge. Butthe Quakers consider all wars, whether offensive or defensive, asagainst the spirit of the christian religion. They cannot contemplatescenes of victory but with the eye of pity, and the tear of compassion, for the sufferings of their fellow-creatures, whether countrymen orenemies, and for the devastation of the human race. They allow no gloryto attach, nor do they give any thing like an honourable reputation, tothe Alexanders, the Caesars, or the heroes either of ancient or moderndate. They cannot therefore approve of songs of this class, because theyconceive them to inculcate sentiments, totally contrary to the mild andpeaceful spirit of the christian religion. 

If we were to examine the collection farther, we might pick out othersongs, which might be reckoned of the class of the impure. Among thesewill be found ideas, so indelicate, that notwithstanding the gloss, which wit and humour had put over them, the chaste ear could not but beoffended by their recital. It must be obvious, in this case also, thatnot only the Quakers, but all persons filling the stations of parents, would be sorry if their children were to come to the knowledge of someof these. 

It is unnecessary to proceed farther upon this subject. For the readermust be aware that, while the Quakers hold such sentiments, they cannever patronise such songs; and that if those who are taught or allowedto sing, generally lay hold of all the songs that come into their way, that is, promiscuously and without selection. The Quakers will have astrong ground as a Christian society, or as a society, who hold itnecessary to be watchful over their words as well as their actions, forthe rejection of vocal music. 

SECT. IV. 

_The preceding are the arguments of the early Quakers--new state ofmusic has produced new ones--instrumental now censurable for a waste oftime--for leading into company--for its connection with vocal_. 

The arguments which have hitherto appeared against the admission ofmusic into education, are those which were nearly coeval with thesociety itself. The incapability of music to answer moral ends, thesensuality of the gratification, the impediments it might throw in theway of religious retirement, the impurity it might convey to the mind, were in the mouths of the early Quakers. Music at that time wasprincipally in the hands of those, who made a livelihood of the art. Those who followed it as an accomplishment, or a recreation, were fewand these followed it with moderation. But since those days, itsprogress has been immense. It has traversed the whole kingdom. It hasgot into almost all the families of rank and fortune. Many of the middleclasses, in imitation of the higher, have received it; and, as it hasundergone a revolution in the extent, so it has undergone another in theobject of its practice. It is learned now, not as a source of occasionalrecreation, but as a complicated science, where perfection is insistedupon to make it worthy of pursuit. In this new state therefore of musicnew arguments have arisen on the part of the Quakers, which I shall nowconcisely detail. 

The Quakers, in the first place, are of opinion, that the learning ofmusic, as it is now learned, cannot be admitted by them as a christiansociety, because, proficiency being now the object of it, as has beenbefore observed, it would keep them longer employed, than is consistentwith people, who are commanded to redeem their time. 

They believe also that music in its present state, has an immediatetendency to leading into the company of the world. In former tunes, whenmusic was followed with moderation, it was esteemed as a companion, oras a friend: it afforded relaxation after fatigue, and amusement insolitary hours. It drew a young person to his home, and hindered himfrom following many of the idle diversions of the times. But now, orsince it has been practised with a new object, it produces a differenteffect. It leads into company. It leads to trials of skill. It leads tothe making up of festive parties. It leads, for its own gratification, to the various places of public resort. Now this tendency of leadinginto public is considered by the Quakers as a tendency big with thedissolution of their society. For they have many customs to keep up, which are quite at variance with those of the world. The former appearto be steep and difficult as common paths. Those of the world to besmooth and easy. The natural inclination of youth, more prone toself-gratification than to self-denial, would prefer to walk in thelatter. And the influence of fashion would point to the same choice. Theliberty too, which is allowed in the one case, seems more agreeable thanthe discipline imposed in the other. Hence it has been found, that inproportion as young Quakers mix with the world, they generally imbibeits spirit, and weaken themselves as members of their own body. 

The Quakers again, have an objection to the learning of instrumentalmusic on account of its almost inseparable connection with vocal, inconsequence of which, it leads often to the impurity, which the latterhas been shewn to be capable of conveying to the mind. 

This connection does not arise so much from the circumstance, thatthose, who learn to play, generally learn to sing, as from anotherconsideration. Musical people, who have acquired skill and taste, aredesirous of obtaining every new musical publication, as it comes out. This desire is produced where there is an aim at perfection in thisscience. The professed novel reader, we know, waits with impatience fora new novel. The politician discovers anxiety for his morning paper. Just so it is with the musical amateur with respect to a new tune. Now, though many of the new compositions come out for instrumental musiconly, yet others come out entirely as vocal. These consist of songs sungat our theatres, or at our public gardens, or at our other places ofpublic resort, and are afterwards printed with their music, and exposedto sale. The words therefore, of these songs, as well as the music thatis attached to them, fall into the hands of the young amateur. Now assuch songs are not always chaste, or delicate, and as they frequentlycontain such sentiments, as I have shewn the Quakers to disapprove, theyoung musician, if a Quaker, might have his modestey frequently put tothe blush, or his delicacy frequently wounded, or his morality oftenbroken in upon, by their perusal. Hence, though instrumental music mighthave no immoral tendency in itself, the Quakers have rejected it, amongother reasons, on account of its almost inseparable connection withvocal. 

SECT. V. 

_Objection anticipated, that though the arguments, used by the Quakersin the preceding chapters, are generally fair and positive, yet anexceptionable one seems to have been introduced, by which it appears tobe inculcated, that the use of a thing ought to be abandoned on accountof its abuse--explanation of the distinction, made by the Quakers, inthe use of this argument_. 

I purpose to stop for a while, and to make a distinction, which may nowbecome necessary, with respect to the use of what may appear to be aQuaker principle of argument, before I proceed to a new subject. 

It may have been observed by some of my readers, that though the Quakershave adduced arguments, which may be considered as fair and positive onthe subjects, which have come before us, yet they appear to have adducedone, which is no other, than that of condemning the use of a thing onaccount of its abuse. Now this mode of reasoning, it will be said hasbeen exploded by logicians, and for this, among other reasons, that ifwe were bound to relinquish customs in consequence of it, we should beobliged to give up many things that are connected with the comforts, andeven with the existence of our lives. 

To this observation I must reply, that the Quakers never recommend anabstinence from any custom, merely because the use of it may lead to itsabuse. 

Where a custom is simply liable to abuse, they satisfy themselves withrecommending moderation in the use of it. 

But where the abuse of a custom is either, in the first place, necessarily, or, in the second very generally connected with the use ofit, they generally consider the omission of it as morally wise andprudent. It is in these two cases only that they apply, or that they layany stress upon the species of argument described. 

This species of argument, under these two limitations, they believe tobe tenable in christian morals, and they entertain this belief upon thefollowing grounds. 

It may be laid down as a position, that the abuse of any custom which isinnocent in itself, is an evil, and that it may become a moral evil. Andthey conceive it to become a moral evil in the eye of christianity, whenit occasions either the destruction of the health of individuals, orthe misapplication of their time, or the excitement of their worstpassions, or the loss of their moral character. 

If therefore the use of any custom be necessarily (which is the first ofthe two cases) connected with its abuse, and the abuse of it be themoral evil described, the user or practiser cannot but incur a certaindegree of guilt. This first case will comprehend all those uses ofthings, which go under the denomination of gaming. 

If again, the use of a custom be either through the influence offashion, or its own seductive nature, or any other cause, very generally(which is the second case) connected with its abuse, and the abuse bealso of the nature supposed, then the user or practiser, if the custombe unnecessary, throws himself wantonly into danger of evil, contrary tothe watchfulness which christianity enjoins in morals; and, if he falls, falls by his own fault. This watchfulness against moral danger theQuakers conceive to be equally incumbent upon Christians, aswatchfulness upon persons against the common dangers of life. If twothirds of all the children, who had ever gone to the edge of a precipiceto play, had fallen down and been injured, it would be a necessaryprudence in parents to prohibit all such goings in future. So theyconceive it to be only a necessary prudence in morals, to prohibitcustoms, where the use of them is very generally connected with acensurable abuse. This case will comprehend music, as practised at thepresent day, because they believe it to be injurious to health, tooccasion a waste of time, to create an emulative disposition, and togive an undue indulgence to sensual feeling. 

And as the Quakers conceive this species of argument to be tenable inChristian morals, so they hold it to be absolutely necessary to beadopted in the education of youth. For grown up persons may havesufficient judgment to distinguish between the use of a thing and itsabuse. They may discern the boundaries of each, and enjoy the one, whilethey avoid the other. But youth have no such power of discrimination. Like inexperienced mariners, they know not where to look for the deepand the shallow water, and, allured by enchanting circumstances, theymay, like those who are reported to have been enticed by the voices ofthe fabulous Syrens, easily overlook the danger, that assuredly awaitsthem in their course. 

CHAP. IV. SECT. I. 

_The theatre--the theatre as well as music abused--plays respectable intheir origin--but degenerated--Solon, Plato, and the ancient moralistsagainst them--particularly immoral in England in the time of Charlesthe second--forbidden by George Fox--sentiments of ArchbishopTillotson--of William Law--English plays better than formerly, but stillobjectionable--prohibition of George Fox continued by the Quakers. _

It is much to be lamented that customs, which originated in respectablemotives, and which might have been made productive of innocent pleasure, should have been so perverted in time, that the continuation of themshould be considered as a grievance by moral men. As we have seen thisto be the case, in some measure, with respect to music, so it is thecare with respect to plays. 

Dramatic compositions appear to have had no reprehensible origin. Itcertainly was an object with the authors of some of the earliest playsto combine the entertainment with the moral improvement of the mind. Tragedy was at first simply a monody to Bacohus. But the tragedy of theancients, from which the modern is derived, did not arise in the world, till the dialogue and the chorus were introduced. Now the chorus, asevery scholar knows, was a moral office. They who filled it, were loudin their recommendations of justice and temperance. They inculcated areligious observance of the laws. They implored punishment on theabandoned. They were strenuous in their discouragement of vice, and inthe promotion of virtue. This office therefore, being coeval withtragedy itself, preserves it from the charge of an immoral origin. 

Nor was comedy, which took its rise afterwards, the result of corruptmotives. In the most ancient comedies, we find it to have been the greatobject of the writers to attack vice. If a chief citizen had actedinconsistently with his character, he was ridiculed upon the stage. Hisvery name was not concealed on the occasion. In the course of timehowever, the writers of dramatic pieces were forbidden to use the namesof the persons, whom they proposed to censure. But we find them stilladhering to the same great object, the exposure of vice; and theypainted the vicious character frequently so well, that the person wassoon discovered by the audience, though disguised by a fictitious name. When new restrictions, were afterwards imposed upon the writers of suchpieces, they produced a new species of comedy. This is that whichobtains at the present day. It consisted of an imitation of the mannersof common life. The subject, the names, and the characters, belongingto it, were now all of them feigned. Writers, however, retained theirold object of laughing at folly and of exposing vice. 

Thus it appears that the theatre, as far as tragedy was employed, inculcated frequently as good lessons of morality, as heathenism couldproduce, and as far as comedy was concerned, that it became often thenext remedy, after the more grave and moral lectures of the ancientphilosophers, against the prevailing excesses of the times. 

But though the theatre professed to encourage virtue, and to censurevice, yet such a combination of injurious effects was interwoven withthe representations there, arising either from the influence of fictionupon morals, or from the sight of the degradation of the rationalcharacter by buffoonery, or from the tendency of such representations toproduce levity and dissipation, or from various other causes, that they, who were the greatest lovers of virtue in those days, and the mostsolicitous of improving the moral condition of man, began to considerthem as productive of much more evil than of good. Solon forewarnedThespis, that the effects of such plays, as he saw him act, would becomein time injurious to the morals of mankind, and he forbade him to actagain. The Athenians, though such performances were afterwards allowed, would never permit any of their judges to compose a comedy. TheSpartans under Lycurgus, who were the most virtuous of all the people ofGreece, would not suffer either tragedies or comedies to be acted atall. Plato, as he had banished music, so he banished theatricalexhibitions from his pure republic. Seneca considered, that vice madeinsensible approaches by means of the stage, and that it stole on thepeople in the disguise of pleasure. The Romans, in their purer times, considered the stage to be so disgraceful, that every Roman was to bedegraded, who became an actor, and so pernicious to morals, that theyput it under the power of a censor, to control its effects. 

But the stage, in the time of Charles the second, when the Quakers firstappeared in the world, was in a worse state than even in the Grecian orRoman times. If there was ever a period in any country, when it wasnoted as the school of profligate and corrupt morals, it was in thisreign. George Fox therefore, as a christian reformer, could not besupposed to be behind the heathen philosophers, in a case where moralitywas concerned. Accordingly we find him protesting publicly against allsuch spectacles. In this protest, he was joined by Robert Barclay andWilliam Penn, two of the greatest men of those times, who in theirrespective publications attacked them with great spirit. Thesepublications shewed the sentiments of the Quakers, as a religious body, upon this subject. It was understood that no Quaker could be present atamusements of this sort. And this idea was confirmed by the sentimentsand advices of several of the most religious members, which weredelivered on public occasions. By means of these publications andadvices the subject was kept alive, till it became at lengthincorporated into the religious discipline of the Quakers. The theatrewas then specifically forbidden; and an inquiry was annually to be madefrom thenceforward, whether any of the members of the society had beenfound violating the prohibition. 

Since the time of Charles the second, when George Fox entered hisprotest against exhibitions of this sort, it must certainly beconfessed, that an alteration has taken place for the better in theconstitution of our plays, and that poison is not diffused into morals, by means of them, to an equal extent, as at that period. The mischiefhas been considerably circumscribed by legal inspection, and, it is tobe hoped, by the improved civilization of the times. But it does notappear by any historical testimony we have, that a change has been made, which is at all proportioned to the quantity of moral light, which hasbeen diffused among us since that reign. Archbishop Tillotson was ofopinion, "that plays might be so framed, and they might be governed bysuch rules, as not only to be innocently diverting, but instructive anduseful to put some follies and vices out of countenance, which could notperhaps be so decently reproved, nor so effectually exposed or correctedany other way. " And yet he confesses, that, "they were so full ofprofaneness, and that they instilled such bad principles into the mind, in his own day, that they ought not to have been tolerated in anycivilized, and much less in a Christian nation. " William Law, an eminentdivine of the establishment, who lived after Tillitson, declared in oneof his publications on the subject of the stage, that "you could notthen see a play in either house, but what abounded with thoughts, passages, and language contrary to the Christian religion. " From thetime of William Law to the present about forty years have elapsed, andwe do not see, if we consult the controversial writers on the subject, who live among us, that the theatre has become much less objectionablesince those days. Indeed if the names only of our modern plays were tobe collected and published, they would teach us to augur veryunfavourably as to the morality of their contents. The Quakerstherefore, as a religions body, have seen no reason, why they shoulddiffer in opinion from their ancestors on this subject: and hence theprohibition which began in former times with respect to the theatre, iscontinued by them at the present day. 

SECT. II. 

_Theatre forbidden by the Quakers on account of the manner of thedrama--first, as it personates the character of others--secondly, as itprofesses to reform vice_. 

The Quakers have many reasons to give, why, as a society of christiansthey cannot encourage the theatre, by being present at any of itsexhibitions. I shall not detail all of them for the reader, but shallselect such only, as I think most material to the point. 

The first class of arguments comprehends such as relate, to what may becalled the manner of the drama. The Quakers object to the manner of thedrama, or to its fictitious nature, in consequence of which menpersonate characters, that are not their own. This personification theyhold to be injurious to the man, who is compelled to practise it. Notthat he will partake of the bad passions, which he personates, but thatthe trick and trade of representing what he does not feel, must make himat all times an actor; and his looks, and words, and actions, will beall sophisticated. And this evil will be likely to continue with him inthe various changes of his life. 

They hold it also to be contrary to the spirit of Christianity. For menwho personate characters in this way, express joy and grief, when inreality there may be none of these feelings in their hearts. Theyexpress noble sentiments, when their whole lives may have beenremarkable for their meanness, and go often afterwards and wallow insensual delights. They personate the virtuous character to day, andperhaps to-morrow that of the rake, and, in the latter case, they utterhis profligate sentiments, and speak his profane language. NowChristianity requires simplicity and truth. It allows no man to pretendto be what he is not. And it requires great circumspection of itsfollowers with respect to what they may utter, because it makes everyman accountable for his idle words. 

The Quakers therefore are of opinion, that they cannot as men, eitherprofessing christian tenets, or christian love, encourage others toassume false characters, or to [5] personate those which are not theirown. 

[Footnote 5: Rousseau condemns the stage upon the same principle. "Itis, says he, the art of dissimulation--of assuming a foreign character, and of appearing differently from what a man really is--of flying into apassion without a cause, and of saying what he does not think, asnaturally as if he really did--in a word of forgetting himself topersonate others. "]

They object also to the manner of the drama, even where it professes tobe a school for morals. For where it teaches morality, it inculcatesrather the refined virtue of heathenism, than the strict, though milddiscipline of the gospel. And where it attempts to extirpate vice, itdoes it rather by making it ridiculous, than by making men shun it forthe love of virtue. It no where fixes the deep christian principle, bywhich men are bound to avoid it as sin, but places the propriety of thedereliction of it rather upon the loss of reputation among the world, than upon any sense of religious duty. 

SECT. III. 

_Theatre forbidden an account of the internal contents of thedrama--both of those of tragedy--and of comedy--these contents hold outfalse morals and prospects--and weaken the sinews of morality--observations of Lord Kaimes upon the subject. _

The next class of arguments is taken from the internal contents of thedrama. 

The Quakers mean that dramatic compositions generally contain falsesentiments, that is, such as christianity would disapprove; that, ofcourse they hold out false prospects; that they inculcate false morals;and that they have a tendency from these, and other of their internalcontents, to promote dissipation, and to weaken the sinews of moralityin those who see them represented upon the stage. 

Tragedy is considered by the Quakers, as a part of the drama, where thehero is generally a warrior, and where a portion of human happiness ismade to consist of martial glory. Hence it is considered as frequentlyinculcating proud and lofty sentiments, as cherishing a fierce andromantic spirit, as encouraging rival enmities, as holding of noimportance the bond of love and union between man and man. Now aschristianity enjoins humility, peace, quietness, brotherly affection, and charity, which latter is not to be bounded by the limits of anycountry, the Quakers hold as a christian body, that they cannot admittheir children to spectacles, which have a tendency to engender adisposition opposite to these. 

Comedy is considered as holding out prospects, and inculcating morals, equally false and hurtful. In such compositions, for example, a badimpression is not uniformly given of a bad character. Knavery frequentlyaccomplishes its ends without the merited punishment. Indeed treacheryand intrigue are often considered but as jocose occurrences. The laws ofmodern honour are frequently held out to the spectator, as laws that areto influence in life. Vulgar expressions, and even swearing are admittedupon the stage. Neither is chastity nor delicacy always consulted there. Impure allusions are frequently interwoven into the dialogue, so thatinnocence cannot but often blush. Incidents not very favourable tomorals, are sometimes introduced. New dissipated characters are producedto view, by the knowledge of which, the novice in dissipation is notdiverted from his new and baneful career, but finds only his scope ofdissipation enlarged, and a wider field to range in. To these hurtfulviews of things, as arising from the internal structure, are to be addedthose, which arise from the extravagant love-tales, the ridiculousintrigues, and the silly buffoonery of the compositions of the stage. 

Now it is impossible, the Quakers contend, that these ingredients, whichare the component parts of comic amusements, should not have aninjurious influence upon the mind that is young and tender andsusceptible of impressions. If the blush which first started upon thecheek of a young person on the first hearing of an indecorous or profanesentiment, and continued for some time to be excited at repetitions ofthe same, should at length be so effectually laid asleep, that theimpudent language of ribaldry can awaken it no more, it is clear, that avictory will have been gained over his moral feelings: and if he shouldremember (and what is to hinder him, when the occurrences of the stageare marked with strong action, and accompanied with impressive scenery)the language, the sentiments, the incidents, the prospects, whichdramatic pieces have brought before him, he may combine these, as theyrise to memory, with his own feelings, and incorporate themimperceptibly into the habits and manners of his own life. Thus, if vicebe not represented as odious, he may lose his love of virtue. Ifbuffoonery should be made to please him, he may lose the dignity of hismind. Love-tales may produce in him a romantic imagination. Lowcharacters may teach him low cunning. If the laws of honour strike himas the laws of refined life, he may become a fashionable moralist. Ifmodes of dissipation strike him us modes of pleasure in the estimationof the world, he may abandon himself to these, and become a rake. Thusmay such representations, in a variety of ways, act upon the moralprinciple, and make an innovation there, detrimental to his moralcharacter. 

Lord Kaimes, in his elements of criticism, has the followingobservations. 

"The licentious court of Charles the second, among its many disorders, engendered a pest, the virulence of which subsists to this day. TheEnglish comedy, copying the manners of the court, became abominablylicentious; and continues so with very little softening. It is there anestablished rule to deck out the chief characters with every vice infashion however gross; but as such characters, if viewed in a truelight, would be disgustful, care is taken to disguise their deformityunder the embellishments of wit, sprightliness and good humour, which, in mixed company makes a capital figure. It requires not much thought todiscover the poisonous influence of such plays. A young man of figure, emancipated at last from the severity and restraint of a collegeeducation, repairs to the capital disposed to every sort of excess. Theplay-house becomes his favourite amusement, and he is enchanted with thegaiety and splendour of the chief personages. The disgust which vicegives him at first, soon wears off to make way for new notions, moreliberal in his opinion, by which a sovereign contempt of religion, and adeclared war upon the chastity of wives, maids and widows, are convertedfrom being infamous vices to be fashionable virtues. The infectionspreads gradually through all ranks and becomes universal. How gladlywould I listen to any one, who should undertake to prove, that what Ihave been describing is chimerical! But the dissoluteness of our youngmen of birth will not suffer me to doubt its reality. Sir Harry Wildairhas completed many a rake; and in the suspicious husband, Ranger, thehumble imitator of Sir Harry, has had no slight influence in spreadingthat character. What woman, tinctured with the play-house morals, wouldnot be the sprightly, the witty, though dissolute Lady Townley, ratherthan the cold, the sober, though virtuous Lady Grace? How odious oughtwriters to be who thus employ the talents they have from their makermost traitorously against himself, by endeavouring to corrupt anddisfigure his creatures! If the comedies of Congreve did not rack himwith remorse in his last moments, he must have been lost to all sense ofvirtue. "

SECT. IV. 

_The theatre forbidden--because injurious to the happiness of man bydisqualifying him for the pleasures of religion--this effect arisesfrom its tendency to accustom individuals to light thoughts--to injuretheir moral feelings--to occasion an extraordinary excitement of themind--and from the very nature of the enjoyments which it produces. _

As the Quakers consider the theatre to have an injurious effect on themorality of man, so they consider it to have an injurious effect on hishappiness. They believe that amusements of this sort, but particularlythe comic, unfit the mind for the practical performance of the christianduties, and that as the most pure and substantial happiness, that mancan experience, is derived from a fulfilment of these, so they deprivehim of the highest enjoyment of which his nature is capable, that is, ofthe pleasures of religion. 

If a man were asked, on entering the door of the theatre, if he wentthere to learn the moral duties, he would laugh at the absurdity of thequestion; and if he would consent to give a fair and direct answer, hewould either reply, that he went there for amusement, or to dissipategloom, or to be made merry. Some one of these expressions would probablycharacterise his errand there. Now this answer would comprise theeffect, which the Quakers attach to the comic performances of the stage. They consider them as drawing the mind from serious reflection, anddisposing it to levity. But they believe that a mind, graduallyaccustomed to light thoughts, and placing its best gratification inlight objects, must be disqualified in time for the gravity of religiousexercise, and be thus hindered from partaking of the pleasures whichsuch an exercise must produce. 

They are of opinion also, that such exhibitions, having, as was latelymentioned, a tendency to weaken the moral character, must have asimilarly injurious effect. For what innovations can be made on thehuman heart, so as to seduce it from innocence, that will notsuccessively wean it both from the love and the enjoyment of theChristian virtues?

The Quakers also believe, that dramatic exhibitions have a power of vastexcitement of the mind. If they have no such power, they are insipid. Ifthey have, they are injurious. A person is all the evening at a play inan excited state. He goes home, and goes to bed with his imaginationheated, and his passions roused. The next morning he rises. He rememberswhat he has seen and heard, the scenery, the language, the sentiments, the action. He continues in the same excited state for the remainder ofthe day. The extravagant passions of distracted lovers, the wantonaddresses of actors, are still fresh upon his mind. Now it is contendedby the Quakers, that a person in such an excited state, but particularlyif the excitement pleases, must be in a very unfavourable state for thereception of the pure principle, or for the promotion of the practicalduties of religion. It is supposed that if any religious book, or if anypart of the sacred writings, were handed to him in these moments, hewould be incapable of enjoying them; and of course, that religiousretirement, which implies an abstraction from the tilings of the world, would be impracticable at such a season. 

The Quakers believe also, that the exhibitions of the drama must, fromtheir own nature, without any other consideration, disqualify for thepleasures of religion. It was a frequent saying of George Fox, takenfrom the apostle Peter, that those who indulged in such pleasures weredead, while they were alive; that is, they were active in their bodies;they ran about briskly after their business or their pleasures; theyshewed the life of their bodily powers; but they were extinct as tospiritual feeling. By this he meant that the pleasures of the theatre, and others of a similar nature, were in direct opposition to thepleasures of religion. The former were from the world worldly. They wereinvented according to the dispositions and appetites of men. But thelatter were from the spirit spiritual. Hence there was no greaterdifference between life and death, than between these pleasures. Hencethe human mind was made incapable of receiving both at the same time;and hence the deeper it were to get into the enjoyment of the former, the less qualified it must become of course for the enjoyment of thelatter. 

SECT. V. 

_Theatre forbidden--because injurious to the happiness of man bydisqualifying him for domestic enjoyments--Quakers value these next tothe pleasures of religion--sentiments of Cowper--theatre has thistendency, by weaning gradually from a love of home--and has it in agreater degree than any other of the amusements of the world. _

The Quakers, ever since the institution of their society, have abandonedthe diversions of the world. They have obtained their pleasures fromother quarters. Some of these they have found in one species ofenjoyment, and others in another. But those, which they particularlyprize, they have found in the enjoyment of domestic happiness; and thesepleasures they value next to the pleasures of religion. 

 [6] "Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of Paradise, that has survived the fall! Thou art the nurse of virtue--In thine arms She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is, Heav'n-born, and destin'd to the skies again. Thou art not known, where pleasure is ador'd, That reeling goddess, with a zoneless waist And wandering eyes, still leaning on the arm Of Novelty, her fickle, frail support; For thou art meek and constant, hating change, And finding, in the calm of truth-tried love, Joys, that her stormy raptures never yield. Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made Of honour, dignity, and fair renown!"

[Footnote 6: COWPER. ]

But if the Quakers have been accustomed to place one of the sources oftheir pleasures in domestic happiness, they may be supposed to bejealous of every thing that appears to them to be likely to interruptit. But they consider dramatic exhibitions, as having this tendency. These exhibitions, under the influence of plot, dialogue, dress, music, action, and scenery, particularly fascinate. They excite the person, whohas once seen them, to desire them again. But in proportion as thisdesire is gratified, or in proportion as people leave their homes forthe amusements of the stage, they lose their relish, and weaken theirpowers, of the enjoyment of domestic society: that is, the Quakers meanto say, that domestic enjoyments, and those of the theatre, may become, in time, incompatible in the same persons; and that the theatre ought, therefore, to be particularly avoided, as an enemy, that may steal them, and rob them of those pleasures, which experience has taught them tovalue, as I have observed before, next to the pleasures of religion. 

They are of opinion also, that dramatic exhibitions not only tend, ofthemselves, to make home less agreeable, but that they excite a cravingfor stimulants, and, above all, teach a dependence upon external objectsfor amusement. Hence the attention of people is taken off again to newobjects of pleasure, which lie out of their own families, and out of thecircle of their friends. 

It will not take much time to shew, that the Quakers have not beenmistaken in this point. It is not unusual in fashionable circles, wherethe theatre is regularly brought into the rounds of pleasure, for thefather and the mother of a family to go to a play once, or occasionallytwice, a week. But it seldom happens, that they either go to the sametheatre, or that they sit together. Their children are at this time leftat home, under, what is considered to be, proper care, but they areprobably never seen again by them till the next noon; and perhaps onceafterwards in the same day, when it is more than an even chance, thatthey must be again left for the gratification of some new pleasure. Nowthis separation of fathers from mothers, and of parents from children, does not augur well of domestic enjoyments or of a love of home. 

But we will trace the conduct of the parents still farther. We will getinto their company at their own houses; and here we shall very soondiscover, how wearisome they consider every hour, that is spent in thebosom of their families, when deprived of their accustomed amusements;and with what anxiety they count the time, when they are to be restoredto their favourite rounds of pleasure. We shall find no difficulty injudging also from their conversation, the measure of their thought ortheir solicitude about their children. A new play is sure to claim theearliest attention or discussion. The capital style, in which an actorperformed his part on a certain night, furnishes conversation for anhour. Observations on a new actress perhaps follow. Such subjects appearmore interesting to such persons, than the innocent conversation, orplayful pranks, of their children. If the latter are noisy, they areoften sent out of the room as troublesome, though the same parents canbear the stunning plaudits, or the discordant groans and hissings of theaudience at the theatre. In the mean time their children grow up, and intheir turn, are introduced by their parents to these amusements, as toplaces, proper for the dissipation of vacant hours; till, by frequentattendances, they themselves lose an affection for home and the domesticduties, and have in time as little regard for their parents, as theirparents appear to have had for them. Marrying at length, not for theenjoyment of domestic society, they and their children perpetuate thesame rounds of pleasure, and the same sentiments and notions. 

To these instances many indeed might be added, by looking into thefamily-histories of those, who are in the habit of frequenting theatresin search of pleasure, by which it would appear, that such amusementsare not friendly to the cherishing of the domestic duties andaffections, but that, on the other hand, in proportion as they arefollowed, they tend to sap the enjoyments of domestic life. And here itmay be observed, that of all the amusements, which go to the making upof the round of pleasures, the theatre has the greatest share indiverting from the pleasures of home. For it particularly attracts andfascinates, both from the nature, and the diversity, of the amusementsit contains. It is also always open, in the season, for resort. So thatif private invitations to pleasure should not come in sufficientlynumerous, or should be broken off by the indisposition of the parties, who give them, the theatre is always ready to supply any vacancy, thatmay be occasioned in the round. 

SECT. VI. 

_Quakers conceive they can sanction no amusements, but such as couldhave originated in christian minds--exhibitions of the drama could havehad, they believe, no such origin--early christians abandoned them intheir conversion--arguments of the latter on this subject, as takenfrom Tertullian, Minucius Felix, Cyprian, Lactantius and others. _

The Quakers conceive, as a christian society, that they ought to havenothing to do with any amusements, but such as christians could haveinvented themselves, or such as christians could have sanctioned, bybecoming partakers of them. But they believe that dramatic exhibitionsare of such a nature as men of a christian spirit could never haveinvented or encouraged, and that, if the world were to begin again, andwere to be peopled by pure christians, these exhibitions could never becalled into existence there. 

This inference, the Quakers judge to be deducible from the nature of achristian mind. A man, who is in the habit, at his leisure hours, oflooking into the vast and stupendous works of creation, of contemplatingthe wisdom, goodness, and power of the creator, of trying to fathom thegreat and magnificent plans of his providence, who is in the habit ofsurveying all mankind with the philosophy of revealed religion, oftracing, through the same unerring channel, the uses and objects oftheir existence, the design of their different ranks and situations, the nature of their relative duties and the like, could never, in theopinion of the Quakers, have either any enjoyment, or be concerned inthe invention, of dramatic exhibitions. To a mind, in the habit oftaking such an elevated flight, it is supposed that every thing on thestage must look little, and childish, and out of place. How could aperson of such a mind be delighted with the musical note of a fiddler, the attitude of a dancer, the impassioned grimace of an actor? How couldthe intrigue, or the love-sick tale of the composition please him? orhow could he have imagined, that these could be the component parts of achristian's joys?

But this inference is considered by the Quakers to be confirmed by thepractice of the early christians. These generally had been Pagans. Theyhad of course Pagan dispositions. They followed Pagan amusements, and, among these, the exhibitions of the stage. But soon after theirconversion, that is, when they had received new minds, and when they hadexercised these on new and sublime subjects, or, on subjects similar tothose described, or, in other words, when they had received theregenerated spirit of christians, they left the amusements of the stage, notwithstanding that, by this act of singularity in a sensual age, theywere likely to bring upon themselves the odium and the reproaches ofthe world. 

But when the early christians abandoned the theatre, they abandoned it, as the Quakers contend, not because, leaving Paganism they were torelinquish all customs that were Pagan, but because they saw in theirnew religion, or because they saw in this newness of their minds, reasons, which held out such amusements to be inadmissible, while theyconsidered themselves in the light of christians. These reasons aresufficiently displayed by the writers of the second, third, and fourthcenturies; and as they are alluded to by the Quakers, though neverquoted, I shall give them to the reader. He will judge by these, how farthe ancient coincide with the modern christians upon this subject; andhow for these arguments of antiquity are applicable to modern times. 

The early christians, according to Tertullian, Menucius Felix, Cyprian, Lactantius, and others, believed, that the "motives for going to theseamusements were not of the purest sort. People went to them without anyview of the improvement of their minds. The motive was either to see orto be seen. "

They considered the manner of the drama as objectionable. They believed"that he who was the author of truth, could never approve of that whichwas false, and that he, who condemned hypocrisy, could never approve ofhim, who personated the character of others; and that those therefore, who pretended to be in love, or to be angry, or to grieve, when none ofthose passions existed in their minds, were guilty of a kind of adulteryin the eyes of the Supreme Being. "

They considered their contents to be noxious. They "looked upon them asconsistories of immorality. They affirmed that things were spoken therewhich it did not become christians to hear, and that things were shewnthere, which it did not become christians to see; and that, while thesethings polluted those from whom they come, they polluted those in time, in whose sight and hearing they were shewn or spoken. "

They believed also, "that these things not only polluted the spectators, but that the representations of certain characters upon the stagepointed out to them the various roads to vice, and inclined them tobecome the persons, whom they had seen represented, or to be actors inreality of what they had seen feigned upon the stage. "

They believed again, "that dramatic exhibitions produced a frame of mindcontrary to that, which should exist in a christian's breast; that therewas nothing to be seen upon the stage, that could lead or encourage himto devotion; but, on the other hand, that the noise and fury of theplay-house, and the representations there, produced a state ofexcitement, that disturbed the internal man. Whereas the spirit of achristian ought to be calm, and quiet, and composed, to fit it for theduties of religion. "

They believed also, "that such promiscuous assemblages of men and womenwere not favourable to virtue; for that the sparks of the passions werethere blown into a flame. "

Tertullian, from whom some of the above opinions are taken, gives aninvitation to those who were fond of public spectacles, in nearly thefollowing terms. 

Are you fond, says he, of the scenic doctrine, or of theatrical sightsand compositions? We have plenty of books for you to read. We can giveyou works in prose and in verse. We can give you apothegms and hymns. Wecannot to besure, give you fictitious plots or fables, but we can giveyou truths. We cannot give you strophies, or the winding dances of thechorus, but we can give you simplicities, or plain and straightforwardpaths. Are you fond of seeing contests or trials for victory? You shallsee these also, and such as are not trivial, but important. You may see, in our christian example, chastity overcoming immodesty. You may seefaithfulness giving a death-wound to perfidy. You may see mercy gettingthe better of cruelty. You may see modesty and delicacy of sentimentovercoming impurity and impudence. These are the contests in which itbecomes us christians to be concerned, and where we ought to endeavourto receive the prize. 

CHAP. V. .. . SECT. I. 

_Dancing forbidden--Greeks and Romans differed on this subject--motiveon which the Greeks encouraged dancing--motive on which the modernsencouraged it--way in which the Quakers view it--the arguments whichthey use against it. _

As the Quakers have thought it right to prohibit music, andstage-entertainments, to the society, so they have thought it proper toprohibit dancing, none of their children being allowed any instructionin the latter art. 

It is remarkable that two of the most civilized nations, as well as twoof the wisest men of antiquity, should have differed in their opinionswith respect to dancing. The Greeks considered it as a wise and anhonourable employment; and most of the nations therefore under thatappellation inserted it into their system of education. The name ofdancer was so honourable, as to be given to some of their gods. Statuesare recorded to have been erected to good dancers. Socrates is said tohave admired dancing so much, as to have learnt it in his old age. Dancing, on the other hand, was but little regarded at Rome. It was notadmitted even within the pale of accomplishments. It was considered atbest as a sorry and trivial employment. Cicero says, "Nemo, fere saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit, neque in solitudine, neque in convivio honesto. " That is, "No man dances, in private, or atany respectable entertainment, except he be drunk or mad. "

We collect at least from the above statement, that people of old, whowere celebrated for their wisdom, came to very different conclusionswith respect to the propriety of the encouragement of this art. 

Those nations among the ancients, which encouraged dancing, did it uponthe principle, that it led to an agility of body, and a quickness ofmotion, that would be useful in military evolutions and exploits. Henceswiftness of foot was considered to be an epithet, as honourable as anythat could be given to a warrior. 

The moderns, on the other hand, encourage dancing, or at least defend itupon different principles. They consider it as producing a handsomecarriage of the body; as leading to a graceful and harmonious use ofthe limbs; and as begetting an erectness of position, not morefavourable to the look of a person than to his health. 

That dancing produces dispositions of this sort cannot be denied, thoughcertainly not to the extent which many have imagined. Painters, whostudy nature the most, and are the best judges of the appearance of thehuman frame, are of opinion, that modern dancing does not producenatural figures or at least such as they would choose for theirrespective compositions. The military exercise has quite as great ashare as dancing in the production of these dispositions. And there arecertainly men, who were never taught either the military exercise ordancing, whose deportment is harmonious and graceful. 

The Quakers think it unnecessary to teach their children dancing, as anaccomplishment, because they can walk, and carry their persons withsufficient ease and propriety without it. 

They think it unnecessary also, because, however the practice of it maybe consistent with the sprightliness of youth, they could never sanctionit in maturer age. They expect of the members of their society, thatthey should abandon amusements, and substitute useful and dignifiedpursuits, when they become men. But they cannot consider dancing but asan employment that is useless, and below the dignity of thechristian-character in persons, who have come to years of discretion. Toinitiate therefore a youth of twelve or thirteen years of age intodancing, when he must relinquish it at twenty, would, in their opinion, be a culpable waste of his time. 

The Quakers, again, cannot view dancing abstractedly, for no personteaches or practises it abstractedly; but they are obliged to view it, in connection with other things. If they view it with its usualaccompaniment of music, it would be inconsistent, they think, toencourage it, when they have banished music from their republic. If theyview it as connected with an assemblage of persons, they must, theyconceive, equally condemn it. And here it is in fact, that theyprincipally level their arguments against it. They prohibit all membersof their society from being present at balls, and assemblies; and theythink, if their youth are brought up in ignorance of the art of dancing, that this ignorance will operate as one preventative at least againstattendances at amusements of this nature. 

The Quakers are as strict in their inquiry with respect to theattendances of any of their members at balls, as at theatricalamusements. They consider balls and assemblies among the vain amusementsof the world. They use arguments against these nearly similar to thosewhich have been enumerated on the preceding subjects. 

They consider them in the first place, as productive of a kind offrivolous levity, and of thoughtlessness with respect to the importantduties of life. They consider them, in the second place, as giving birthto vanity and pride. They consider them, again, as powerful in theexcitement of some of the malevolent passions. Hence they believe themto be injurious to the religious interests of man; for, by depriving himof complacency of mind, and by increasing the growth of his badfeelings, they become impediments in the way of his improvement as amoral being. 

SECT. II. 

_Arguments of the Quakers examined--three cases made out for thedetermination of a moral philosopher--case the first--case thesecond--case the third. _

I purpose to look into these arguments of the Quakers, and to see how farthey can be supported. I will suppose therefore a few cases to be madeout, and to be handed, one by one, to some moral philosopher for hisdecision. I will suppose this philosopher (that all prejudice ofeducation may be excluded) to have been ignorant of the nature ofdancing, but that he had been made acquainted with it, in order that hemight be enabled to decide the point in question. 

Suppose then it was reported to this philosopher that, on a certain day, a number of young persons of both sexes, who had casually met at afriends house, instead of confining themselves to the room on a summersafternoon, had walked out upon the green; that a person present hadinvited them suddenly to dance; that they had danced to the sound ofmusical vibrations for an hour, and that after this they had returned tothe room, or that they had returned home. Would the philosopher be ableto say in this case, that there was any thing in it, that incurred anyof the culpable imputations, fixed upon dancing by the Quakers?

He could hardly; I think, make it out, that there could have been, inany part of the business, any opening for the charges in question. There appears to have been no previous preparations of extravagantdressing; no premeditated design of setting off the person; no previousmethods of procuring admiration; no circumstance, in short, by which hecould reasonably suppose, that either pride or vanity could have beencalled into existence. The time also would appear to him to have beentoo short, and the circumstances too limited, to have given birth toimproper feelings. He would certainly see that a sort of levity wouldhave unavoidably arisen on the occasion, but his impartiality andjustice would oblige him to make a distraction between the levity, thatonly exhilarates, and the levity that corrupts, the heart. Nor could heconceive that the dancing for an hour only, and this totally unlookedfor, could stand much in the way of serious reflection for the future. If he were desired to class this sudden dancing for an hour upon thegreen with any of the known pleasures of life, he would probably classit with an hours exercise in the fields, or with an hours game at play, or with an hours employment in some innocent recreation. 

But suppose now, that a new case were opened to the philosopher. Supposeit were told him, that the same party had been so delighted with theirdance upon the green, that they had resolved to meet once a month forthe purpose of dancing, and that they might not be prevented by badweather, to meet in a public room; that they had met according to theirresolution; that they had danced at their first meeting but for a shorttime; but that at their meetings after, wards, they had got into thehabit of dancing from eight or nine at night till twelve or one in themorning; that many of them now began to be unduly heated in the courseof this long exercise; that some of them in consequence of the heat inthis crowded room, were now occasionally ready to faint; that it was nowusual for some of them to complain the next morning of colds, others ofhead-achs, others of relaxed nerves, and almost all of them of a generallassitude or weariness--what could the philosopher say in the presentcase?

The philosopher would now probably think, that they acted unreasonablyas human beings; that they turned night into day; and that, as if theevils of life were not sufficient in number, they converted hours, whichmight have been spent calmly and comfortably at home, into hours ofindisposition and of unpleasant feelings to themselves. But this is notto the point. Would he or would he not say, that the arguments of theQuakers applied in the present case? It certainly does not appear, fromany thing that has yet transpired on this subject, that he could, withany shadow of reason, accuse the persons, meeting on this occasion, ofvanity or pride, or that he could see from any of the occurrences, thathave been mentioned, how these evils could be produced. Neither has anything yet come out, from which he could even imagine the sources of anyimproper passions. He might think perhaps, that they might be vexed forhaving brought fatigue and lassitude upon themselves, but he could seeno opening for serious anger to others, or for any of the feelings ofmalevolence. Neither could he tell what occurrence to fix upon for theproduction of a frivolous levity. He would almost question, judging onlyfrom what has appeared in the last case, whether there might not be uponthe whole more pain than pleasure from these meetings, and whetherthose, who on the day subsequent to these meetings felt themselvesindisposed, and their whole nervous system unbraced, were not so nearthe door of repentance, that serious thoughts would be more natural tothem than those of a lighter kind. 

But let us suppose one other case to be opened to the philosopher. Letus now suppose it to be stated to him, that those who frequented thesemonthly meetings, but particularly the females, had become habituated totalk, for a day or two beforehand, of nothing but of how they shoulddress themselves, or of what they should wear on the occasion: that sometime had been spent in examining and canvassing the fashions; that themilliner had been called in for this purpose; that the imagination hadbeen racked in the study of the decoration of the person; that both onthe morning and the afternoon of the evening, on which they had publiclymet to dance, they had been solely employed in preparations for deckingthemselves out; that they had been nearly two hours under one dresseronly, namely the hair-dresser; that frequently at intervals they hadlooked at their own persons in the glass; that they had walked up anddown parading before it in admiration of their own appearance, and thecritical detection of any little fold in their dress, which might appearto be out of place, and in the adjustment of the same--what would thephilosopher say in this new case?

He certainly could not view the case with the same complacentcountenance as before. He would feel some symptoms of alarm. He wouldbegin to think that the truth of the Quaker-arguments was unfoldingitself, and that what appeared to him to have been an innocentamusement, at the first, might possibly be capable of being carried outof the bounds of innocence by such and similar accompaniments. He couldnot conceive, if he had any accurate knowledge of the human heart, thatsuch an extraordinary attention to dress and the decoration of theperson, or such a critical examination of these with a view ofprocuring admiration, could produce any other fruits than conceit andaffectation, or vanity and pride. Nor could he conceive that all thesepreparations, all this previous talk, all this previous consultation, about the fashions, added to the employment itself of the decoration ofthe person, could tend to any thing else than to degrade the mind, andto render it light and frivolous. He would be obliged to acknowledgealso, that minds, accustomed to take so deep an interest in the fashionsand vanities of the world, would not only loath, but be disqualified forserious reflection. But if he were to acknowledge, that thesepreparations and accompaniments had on any one occasion a naturaltendency to produce these effects, he could not but consider thesepreparations, if made once a month, as likely to become in timesystematic nurseries for frivolous and affected characters. 

Having traced the subject up to a point, where it appears, that some ofthe Quaker-arguments begin to bear, let us take leave of ourphilosopher, and as we have advanced nearly to the ball-room door, letus enter into the room itself, and see if any circumstances occur there, which shall enable us to form a better judgment upon it. 

SECT. III. 

_Arguments of the Quakers still further examined--interior of theball-room displayed--view of the rise of many of the malevolentpassions--these rise higher and are more painful, than they aregenerally imagined--hence it is probable that the spectators are betterpleased than those interested in these dances--conclusion of thearguments of the Quakers on this subject. _

I am afraid I shall be thought more cynical than just, more prejudicedthan impartial, more given to censure than to praise, if in temples, apparently dedicated to good humour, cheerfulness and mirth, I shouldsay that sources were to be found, from whence we could trace the riseof immoral passions. But human nature is alike in all places, and, ifcircumstances should arise in the ball-room, which touch as it were thestrings of the passions, they will as naturally throw out their tonethere as in other places. Why should envy, jealousy, pride, malice, anger, or revenge, shut themselves out exclusively from these resorts, as if these were more than ordinarily sacred, or more than ordinaryrepositories of human worth. 

In examining the interior of a ball-room it must be confessed, that weshall certainly find circumstances occasionally arising, that give birthto feelings neither of a pleasant nor of a moral nature. It is notunusual, for instance, to discover among the females one that excels inthe beauty of her person, and another that excels in the elegance of herdress. The eyes of all are more than proportionally turned upon thesefor the whole night. This little circumstance soon generates a varietyof improper passions. It calls up vanity and conceit in the breasts ofthese objects of admiration. It raises up envy and jealousy, and evenanger in some of the rest. These become envious of the beauty of theformer, envious of their taste, envious of their cloathing, and, aboveall, jealous of the admiration bestowed upon them. In this evil state ofmind one passion begets another; and instances have occurred, where someof these have felt displeased at the apparent coldness and indifferenceof their own partners, because they have appeared to turn their eyesmore upon the favourites of the night, than upon themselves. 

In the same room, when the parties begin to take their places to dance;other little circumstances not infrequently occur, which give rise toother passions. Many aiming to be as near the top of the dance aspossible, are disappointed of their places by others, who have justslept into them, dissatisfaction, and sometimes murmurs, follow. Each inhis own mind, supposes his claims and pretensions to the higher place tobe stronger on account of his money, his connections, his profession, orhis rank. Thus his own dispositions to pride are only the more nursedand fostered. Malice too is often engendered on the occasion; and thoughthe parties would not be allowed by the master of the ceremonies todisturb the tranquillity of the room, animosities have sometimes sprungup between them, which have not been healed in a little time. I am awarethat in some large towns of the kingdom regulations are made with a viewto the prevention of these evils, but it is in some only; and even wherethey are made, though they prevent outward rude behaviour, they do notprevent inward dissatisfaction. Monied influence still feels itselfoften debased by a lower place. 

If we were to examine the ball-room further, we should find newcircumstances arising to call out new and degrading passions. We shouldfind disappointment and discontent often throwing irritable matter uponthe mind. Men, fond of dancing, frequently find an over proportion ofmen, and but few females in the room, and women, wishing to dance, sometimes find an over proportion of women, and but few men; so thatpartners are not to be had for all, and a number of each class must makeup their minds to sit quietly, and to loose their diversion for thenight. Partners too are frequently dissatisfied with each other. Onethinks his partner too old, another too ugly, another below him. Matchedoften in this unequal manner, they go down the dance in a sort ofdudgeon, having no cordial disposition towards each other, and havingpersons before their eyes in the same room with whom they could havecordially danced. Nor are instances wanting where the pride of some hasfixed upon the mediocrity of others, as a reason, why they shouldreluctantly lend them their hands, when falling in with them in thedance. The slight is soon perceived, and disgust arises in both parties. 

Various other instances might be mentioned, where very improper passionsare excited. I shall only observe, however, that these passions aregenerally stronger and give more uneasiness, and are called up to agreater height, than might generally be imagined from such apparentlyslight causes. In many instances indeed they have led to such seriousmisunderstandings, that they were only terminated by the duel. 

From this statement I may remark here, though my observation be notimmediately to the point, that there is not probably that portion ofentertainment, or that substantial pleasure, winch people expected tofind at these monthly meetings. The little jealousies arising aboutprecedency, or about the admiration of one more than of another; thefalling in occasionally with disagreeable partners; the slights andomissions that are often thought to be purposely made; the head-achs, colds, sicknesses, and lassitude afterwards, must all of them operate asso many drawbacks from this pleasure: and it is not unusual to hearpersons, fond of such amusements, complaining afterwards that they hadnot answered. There is therefore probably more pleasure in thepreparations for such amusements, and in the previous talk about them, than in the amusements themselves. 

It is also probable that the greatest pleasure felt in the ball-room, isfelt by those, who get into it as spectators only. These receivepleasure from the music, from the beat of the steps in unison with it, but particularly from the idea that all, who join in the dance, arehappy. These considerations produce in the spectator cheerfulness andmirth; and these are continued to him more pure and unalloyed than inthe former case, because he can have no drawbacks from the admissioninto his own breast of any of those uneasy, immoral passions, abovedescribed. 

But to return to the point in question. The reader has now had thedifferent cases laid before him as determined by the moral philosopher. He has been conducted also through the interior of the ball-room. Hewill have perceived therefore that the arguments of the Quakers havegradually unfolded themselves, and that they are more or lessconspicuous, or more or less true, as dancing is viewed abstractedly, orin connection with the preparations and accompaniments, that may beinterwoven with it. If it be viewed in connection with thesepreparations and accompaniments, and if these should be found to be soinseparably connected with it, that they must invariably go together, which is supposed to be the case where it is introduced into theball-room, he will have no difficulty in pronouncing that, in this case, it is objectionable as a christian recreation. For it cannot be doubtedthat it has an immediate tendency, in this case, to produce a frivolouslevity, to generate vanity and pride, and to call up passions of themalevolent kind. Now in this point of view it is, that the Quakersgenerally consider dancing. They never view it, as I observed before, abstractedly, or solely by itself. They have therefore forbidden it totheir society, believing it to be the duty of a Christian to be seriousin his conversation and deportment; to afford an example of humility;and to be watchful and diligent in the subjugation of his evilpassions. 

CHAP. VI. 

_Novels--novels forbidden--their fictitious nature no argument againstthem--arguments of the Quakers are, that they produce an affectationknowledge--a romantic spirit--and a perverted morality--and that bycreating an indisposition towards other kinds of reading, they preventmoral improvement and real delight of mind--hence novel-reading morepernicious than many other amusements_. 

Among the prohibitions, which the Quakers have adopted in their moraleducation, as barriers against vice, or as preservatives of virtue, Ishall consider that next, which relates to the perusal of improperbooks. George Fox seems to have forgotten nothing, that was connectedwith the morals of the society. He was anxious for the purity of itscharacter, he seemed afraid of every wind that blew, lest it shouldbring some noxious vapour to defile it. And as those things which werespoken or represented, might corrupt the mind, so those which werewritten and printed, might equally corrupt it also. He recommendedtherefore, that the youth of his newly formed society should abstainfrom the reading of romances. William Penn and others, expressed thesame sentiments on this subject. And the same opinion has been held bythe Quakers, as a body of christians, down to the present day. Hencenovels, as a particular species of romance, and as that which isconsidered as of the worst tendency, have been particularly marked forprohibition. 

Some Quakers have been inclined to think, that novels ought to berejected on account of the fictitious nature of their contents. But thisconsideration is, by no means, generally adopted by the society, as anargument against them. Nor would it be a sound argument, if it were. Ifnovels contain no evil within themselves, or have no evil tendency, themere circumstance of the subject, names or characters being feigned, will not stamp them as censurable. Such fiction will not be like thefiction of the drama, where men act and personate characters that arenot their own. Different men, in different ages of the world, have hadrecourse to different modes of writing, for the promotion of virtue. Some have had recourse to allegories, others to fables. The fables ofAesop, though a fiction from the beginning to the end, have been usefulto many. But we have a peculiar instance of the use and innocence offictitious descriptions in the sacred writings. For the author of thechristian religion made use of parables on many and weighty occasions. We cannot therefore condemn fictitious biography, unless it condemnitself by becoming a destroyer of morals. 

The arguments against novels, in which the Quakers agree as a body, aretaken from the pernicious influence they have upon the minds of those, who read them. 

The Quakers do not say, that all novels have this influence, but thatthey have it generally. The great demand for novels, inconsequence ofthe taste, which the world has shewn for this species of writing, hasinduced persons of all descriptions, and of course many who have beenbut ill qualified to write them. Hence, though some novels have appearedof considerable merit, the worthless have been greatly preponderant. Thedemand also has occasioned foreign novels, of a complexion by no meanssuited to the good sense and character of our country, to be translatedinto our language. Hence a fresh weight has only been thrown into thepreponderating scale. From these two causes it has happened, that thecontents of a great majority of our novels have been unfavourable to theimprovement of the moral character. Now when we consider thiscircumstance, and when we consider likewise, that professednovel-readers generally read all the compositions of this sort that comeinto their way, that they wait for no selection, but that they devourthe good, the bad, and the indifferent alike, we shall see the reasons, which have induced the Quakers to believe, that the effect of thisspecies of writing upon the mind has been generally pernicious. 

One of the effects, which the Quakers consider to be produced by novelsupon those who read them, is an affectation of knowledge, which leadsthem to become forward and presumptuous. This effect is highlyinjurious, for while it raises them unduly in their own estimation, itlowers them in that of the world. Nothing can be more disgusting, in theopinion of the Quakers, than to see persons assuming the authoritativeappearance of men and women before their age or their talents can havegiven them any pretensions to do it. 

Another effect is the following. The Quakers conceive that there isamong professed novel readers a peculiar cast of mind. They observe inthem a romantic spirit, a sort of wonder-loving imagination, and adisposition towards enthusiastic flights of the fancy, which to soberpersons has the appearance of a temporary derangement. As the formereffect must become injurious by producing forwardness, so this mustbecome so by producing unsteadiness, of character. 

A third effect, which the Quakers find to be produced among thisdescription of readers, is conspicuous in a perverted morality. Theyplace almost every value in feeling, and in the affectation ofbenevolence. They consider these as the true and only sources of good. They make these equivalent, to moral principle. And actions flowing fromfeeling, though feeling itself is not always well founded, andsometimes runs into compassion even against justice, they class as moralduties arising from moral principles. They consider also too frequentlythe laws of religion as barbarous restraints, and which their newnotions of civilized refinement may relax at will. And they do nothesitate, in consequence, to give a colour to some fashionable vices, which no christian painter would admit into any composition, which washis own. 

To this it may be added, that, believing their own knowledge to besupreme, and their own system of morality to be the only enlightenedone, they fall often into scepticism, and pass easily from thence toinfidelity. Foreign novels, however, more than our own, have probablycontributed to the production of this latter effect. 

These then are frequently the evils, and those which the Quakers insistupon, where persons devote their spare-time to the reading of novels, but more particularly among females, who, on account of the greaterdelicacy of their constitutions, are the more susceptible of suchimpressions. These effects the Quakers consider as particularlyfrightful, when they fall upon this sex. For an affectation ofknowledge, or a forwardness of character, seems to be much moredisgusting among women than among men. It may be observed also, that anunsteady or romantic spirit or a wonder-loving or flighty imagination, can never qualify a woman for domestic duties, or make her a sedate andprudent wife. Nor can a relaxed morality qualify her for the dischargeof her duty as a parent in the religious education of her children. 

But, independently of these, there is another evil, which the Quakersattach to novel-reading, of a nature too serious to be omitted in thisaccount. It is that those who are attached to this species of reading, become indisposed towards any other. 

This indisposition arises from the peculiar construction of novels. Their structure is similar to that of dramatic compositions. Theyexhibit characters to view. They have their heroes and heroines in thesame manner. They lay open the checkered incidents in the lives ofthese. They interweave into their histories the powerful passion oflove. By animated language, and descriptions which glow with sympathy, they rouse the sensibility of the reader, and fill his soul withinterest in the tale. They fascinate therefore in the same manner asplays. They produce also the same kind of [7] mental stimulus, or thesame powerful excitement of the mind. Hence it is that thisindisposition is generated. For if other books contain neithercharacters, nor incidents, nor any of the high seasoning, or grossstimulants, which belong to novels they become insipid. 

[Footnote 7: I have been told by a physician of the first eminence, thatmusic and novels have done more to produce the sickly countenances andnervous habits of our highly educated females, than any other causesthat can be assigned. The excess of stimulus on the mind from theinteresting and melting tales, that are peculiar to novels, affects theorgans of the body, and relaxes the tone of the nerves, in the samemanner as the melting tones of music have been described to act upon theconstitution, after the sedentary employment, necessary for skill inthat science, has injured it. ]

It is difficult to estimate the injury which is done to persons, by thislast mentioned effect of novel-reading upon the mind. For the contentsof our best books consist usually of plain and sober narrative. Works ofthis description give no extravagant representations of things, becausetheir object is truth. They are found often without characters orcatastrophies, because these would be often unsuitable to the nature ofthe subject of which they treat. They contain repellants rather thanstimulants, because their design is the promotion of virtue. Thenovel-reader therefore, by becoming indisposed towards these, excludeshimself from moral improvement, and deprives himself of the mostsubstantial pleasure, which reading can produce. In vain do books on thestudy of nature unfold to him the treasures of the mineral or thevegetable world. He foregoes this addition to his knowledge, and thisinnocent food for his mind. In vain do books on science lay open to himthe constitution and the laws of the motion of bodies. This constitutionand these laws are still mysteries to him. In vain do books on religiondiscover to him the true path to happiness. He has still this path toseek. Neither, if he were to dip into works like these, but particularlyinto those of the latter discription, could he enjoy them. This latterconsideration makes the reading of novels a more pernicious employmentthan many others. For though there may be amusements, which maysometimes produce injurious effects to those, who partake of them, yetthese may be counteracted by the perusal of works of a moral tendency. The effects, on the other hand, which are produced by the reading ofnovels, seem to admit of no corrective or cure; for how, for instance, shall a perverted morality, which is considered to be one of them, berectified, if the book which is to contain the advice for this purpose, be so uninteresting, or insipid, that the persons in question have nodisposition to peruse it?

CHAP. VII-SECT. I. 

_Diversions of the field--diversions of the field forbidden--generalthoughtlessness on this subject--sentiments of Thomson--sentiments ofGeorge Fox--of Edward Burroughs--similar sentiments of Cowper--law ofthe society on the subject. _

 The diversions of the field are usually followed by people, without anyconsideration, whether they are justifiable, either in the eye ofmorality or of reason. Men receive them as the customs of theirancestors, and they are therefore not likely to entertain doubtsconcerning their propriety. The laws of the country also sanction them;for we find regulations and qualifications on the subject. Those alsowho attend these diversions, are so numerous, and their rank, andstation, and character, are often such, that they sanction them again bytheir example, so that few people think of making any inquiry, how farthey are allowable as pursuits. 

But though this general thoughtlessness prevails upon this subject, andthough many have fallen into these diversions as into the common customsof the world, yet benevolent and religious individuals have not allowedthem to pass unnoticed, nor been backward in their censures andreproofs. 

It has been matter of astonishment to some, how men, who have the powersof reason, can waste their time in galloping after dogs, in a wild andtumultuous manner, to the detriment often of their neighbours, and tothe hazard of their own lives; or how men, who are capable of highintellectual enjoyments, can derive pleasure, so as to join in shouts oftriumph, on account of the death of an harmless animal; or how men, whohave organic feelings, and who know that other living creatures have thesame, can make an amusement of that, which puts brute-animals to pain. 

Good poets have spoken the language of enlightened nature upon thissubject. Thomson in his Seasons, introduces the diversions of the fieldin the following manner. 

 "Here the rude clamour of the sportsman's joy, The gun fast-thund'ring, and the winded horn, Would tempt the muse to sing the rural game. "

But further on he observes, "These are not subjects for the peaceful muse; Nor will she stain with such her spotless song; Then most delighted, when she social sees The whole mix'd animal-creation round. Alive and happy; 'Tis not joy to her This falsely cheerful barbarous game of death. "

Cowper, in his task, in speaking in praise of the country, takesoccasion to express his disapprobation of one of the diversions inquestion. 

 "They love the country, and none else, who seek For their own sake its silence and its shade, Delights, which who would leave, that has a heart Susceptible of pity, or a mind, Cultur'd, and capable of sober thought, For all the savage din of the swift pack And clamours of the field? Detested sport That owes its pleasures to another's pain, That feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endued With eloquence, that agonies inspire Of silent tears, and heart-distending sighs! Vain tears alas! and sighs, that never find A corresponding tone in jovial souls!"

In these sentiments of the poets the Quakers, as a religious body, havelong joined. George Fox specifically reprobated hunting and hawking, which were the field diversions of his own time. He had always shewn, asI stated in the introduction, a tender disposition to brute-animals, byreproving those, who had treated them improperly in his presence. Heconsidered these diversions, as unworthy of the time and attention ofmen, who ought to have much higher objects of pursuit. He believed also, that real christians could never follow them; for a christian was arenovated man, and a renovated man could not but know the works ofcreation better, than to subject them to his abuse. 

Edward Burroughs, who lived at the same time, and was an able ministerof the society, joined George Fox in his sentiments with respect to thetreatment of animals. He considered that man in the fall, or theapostate man, had a vision so indistinct and vitiated that he could notsee the animals of the creation, as he ought, but that the man, who wasrestored, or the spiritual christian, had a new and clear discernmentconcerning them, which would oblige him to consider and treat them in aproper manner. 

This idea of George Fox and of Edward Burroughs seems to have beenadopted or patronized by the Poet Cowper. 

 "Thus harmony, and family accord, Were driven from Paradise; and in that hour The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell'd To such gigantic and enormous growth, Were sown in human natures fruitful soil. Hence date the persecution and the pain, That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, Regardless of their plaints. To make him sport, To gratify the frenzy of his wrath, Or his base gluttony, are causes good, And just, in his account, why bird and beast Should suffer torture--"

Thus the Quakers censured these diversions from the first formation oftheir society, and laid down such moral principles with respect to thetreatment of animals, as were subversive of their continuance. Theseprinciples continued to actuate all true Quakers, who were theirsuccessors; and they gave a proof, in their own conduct, that they wereinfluenced by them, not only in treating the different animals undertheir care with tenderness, but in abstaining from all diversions inwhich their feelings could be hurt. The diversions however, of thefield, notwithstanding that this principle of the brute-creation hadbeen long recognized, and that no person of approved character in thesociety followed them, began in time to be resorted to occasionally bythe young and thoughtless members, either out of curiosity, or with aview of trying them, as means of producing pleasure. These deviations, however from the true spirit of Quakerism became at length known. Andthe Quakers, that no excuse might be left to any for engaging in suchpursuits again, came to a resolution in one of their yearly meetings, giving advice upon the subject in the following words. 

[8]"We clearly rank the practice of hunting and shooting for diversionwith vain sports; and we believe the awakened mind may see, that eventhe leisure of those whom providence hath permitted to have a competenceof worldly goods, is but ill filled up with these amusements. Therefore, being not only accountable for our substance, but also for our time, letour leisure be employed in serving our neighbour, and not indistressing the creatures of God for our amusement. "

[Footnote 8: Book of Extracts. ]

I shall not take upon me to examine the different reasons upon which wefind the foundation of this law. I shall not enquire how far a man'ssubstance, or rather his talent, is wasted or misapplied, in feeding anumber of dogs in a costly manner, while the poor of the neighbourhoodmay be starving, or how far the galloping after these is in the eye ofchristianity a misapplication of a person's time. I shall adhere only tothat part of the argument, how far a person has a right to make a[9]pleasure of that, which occasions pain and death to theanimal-creation: and I shall shew in what manner the Quakers argue uponthis subject, and how they persuade themselves, that they have no rightto pursue such diversions, but particularly when they considerthemselves as a body of professing christians. 

[Footnote 9: The Quakers and the poet Cowper likewise, in their laudablezeal for the happiness of the brute-creation, have given an improperdescription of the nature of the crime of these diversions. They havemade it to consist in a man's deriving pleasure from the sufferings of theanimals in question, whereas it should have been made to consist in hismaking a pleasure of a pursuit which puts them to pain. The mostabandoned sportsman, it is to be presumed, never hunts them becausehe enjoys their sufferings. His pleasure arises from considerations ofanother nature. ]

SECT. II. 

_Diversions of the field judged first by the morality of the OldTestament--original charter to kill animals--condition annexed toit--sentiments of Cowper--rights and duties springing from thischarter--violation of it the violation of a moral law--diversions inquestion not allowable by this standard. _

The Quakers usually try the lawfulness of field-diversions, whichinclude hunting and shooting, by two standards, and first by themorality of the old Testament. 

They believe in common with other christians, that men have a right totake away the lives of animals for their food. The great creator of theuniverse, to whom every thing that is in it belongs, gave to Noah andhis descendants a grant or charter for this purpose. In this charter noexception is made. Hence wild animals are included in it equally withthe tame. And hence a hare may as well be killed, if people haveoccasion for food, as a chicken or a lamb. 

They believe also that, when the creator of the universe gave mendominion over the whole brute-creation, or delivered this creation intotheir hands, he intended them the right of destroying such animals, ascircumstances warranted them in supposing would become injurious tothemselves. The preservation of themselves, which is the first law ofnature, and the preservation of other animals under their care, createdthis new privilege. 

But though men have the power given them over the lives of animals, there is a condition in the same charter, that they shall take them withas little pain as possible to the creatures. If the death of animals isto be made serviceable to men, the least they can do in return is tomitigate their sufferings, while they expire. This obligation theSupreme Being imposed upon those, to whom he originally gave thecharter, by the command of not eating their flesh, while the life'sblood was in it. The Jews obliged all their converts to religion, eventhe proselytes of the gate, who were not considered to be so religiousas the proselytes of the covenant, to observe what they called theseventh commandment of Noah, or that "they should[10] not eat the memberof any beast that was taken from it, while it was alive. " This lawtherefore of blood, whatever other objects it might have in view, enjoined that, while men were engaged in the distresing task of takingaway the life of an animal, they should respect its feelings, byabstaining from torture, or all unnecessary pain. 

[Footnote 10: It seems almost impossible, that men could be so depraved, as to take flesh to eat from a poor animal, while alive, and yet fromthe law enjoined to proselytes of the gate it is probable, that it wasthe case. Bruce, whose travels into Abyssynia are gaining in credit, asserts that such customs obtained there. And the Harleian Miscellany, vol. 6. P. 126, in which is a modern account of Scotland, written in1670, states the same practice as having existed in our own island. ]

 [11]On Noah, and in him on all mankind The Charter was conferr'd, by which we hold The flesh of animals in fee, and claim O'er all we feed on pow'r of life and death. But read the instrument, and mark it well. The oppression of a tyrannous control Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, Feed on the slain; but spare the living brute. 

[Footnote 11: Cowper. ]

From this charter, and from the great condition annexed to it, theQuakers are of opinion that rights and duties have sprung up; rights onbehalf of animals, and duties on the part of men; and that a breach ofthese duties, however often, or however thoughtlessly it may take place, is a breach of a moral law. For this charter did not relate to thoseanimals only, which lived in the particular country of the Jews, but tothose in all countries wherever Jews might exist. Nor was the observanceof it confined to the Jews only, but it was to extend to the Proselytesof the covenant and the gate. Nor was the observance of it confined tothese Proselytes, but it was to extend to all nations; because allanimals of the same species are in all countries organized alike, andhave all similar feelings; and because all animals of every kind aresusceptible of pain. 

In trying the lawfulness of the diversions of the field, as the Quakersdo by this charter, and the great condition that is annexed to it, Ipurpose, in order to save time, to confine myself to hunting, for thiswill appear to be the most objectionable, if examined in this manner. 

It must be obvious then, that hunting, even in the case of hares, isseldom followed for the purposes of food. It is uncertain in the firstplace, whether in the course of the chase they can be preserved wholewhen they are taken, so as to be fit to be eaten. And, in the second, itmay be observed, that we may see fifty horsemen after a pack of hounds, no one of whom has any property in the pack, nor of course any right tothe prey. These cannot even pretend, that their object is food, eitherfor themselves or others. 

Neither is hunting, where foxes are the objects in view, pursued uponthe principle of the destruction of noxious animals. For it may beobserved, that rewards are frequently offered to those, who will procurethem for the chase: that large woods or covers are frequently allottedthem, that they may breed, and perpetuate their species for the samepurposes, and that a poor man in the neighbourhood of a foxhunter, wouldbe sure to experience his displeasure, if he were caught in thedestruction of any of these animals. 

With respect to the mode of destroying them in either of these cases, itis not as expeditious, as it might be made by other means. It is on theother hand, peculiarly cruel. A poor animal is followed, not forminutes, but frequently for an hour, and sometimes for hours, in painand agony. Its sufferings begin with its first fear. Under this fear, perpetually accompanying it, it flies from the noise of horses, andhorsemen, and the cries of dogs. It pants for breath, till the pantingbecomes difficult and painful. It becomes wearied even to misery, yetdares not rest. And under a complication of these sufferings, it is atlength overtaken, and often literally torn to pieces by its pursuers. 

Hunting therefore does not appear, in the opinion of the Quakers, to befollowed for any of those purposes, which alone, according to theoriginal charter, give mankind a right over the lives of brutes. It isneither followed for food, nor for prevention of injury to man, or tothe creatures belonging to him. Neither is life taken away by means ofit, as mercifully as it ought to be, according to the meaning of the[12]great condition. But if hunting be not justifiable, when examined uponthese principles, it can never be justifiable in the opinion of theQuakers, when it is followed on the principle of pleasure, alldestruction of animal-life upon this last principle, must come withinthe charge of wanton cruelty, and be considered as a violation of amoral law. 

[Footnote 12: The netting of animals for food, is perfectlyunobjectionable upon these principles. ]

SECT. III. 

_Diversions of the field judged by the morality of theNew-Testament--the renovated man or christian has a clearer knowledge ofcreation and of its uses--he views animals as the creatures ofGod--hence he finds animals to have rights independently of any writtenlaw--he collects again new rights from the benevolence of his newfeelings--and new rights again from the written word of revelation. _

The Quakers try the lawfulness of these diversions again by the moralityof the New-Testament They adopt, in the first place, upon this occasion, the idea of George Fox and of Edward Burroughs, which has been alreadystated; and they follow it up in the manner which I shall now explain. 

They believe that a man under the new covenant, or one who is really achristian, is a renovated man. As long as Adam preserved his primevalinnocence, or continued in the image of his Maker, his spiritual visionwas clear. When he lost this image, it became dim, short, and confused. This is the case, the Quakers believe, with every apostate or wickedman. He sees through a vitiated medium. He sees of course nothing of theharmony of the creation. He has but a confused knowledge of the naturesand ends of things. These natures and these ends he never examines as heought, but in the confusion of his moral vision, he abuses and pervertsthem. Hence it generally happens, that an apostate man is cruel to hisbrute. But in proportion as he is restored to the divine image, orbecomes as Adam was before he fell, or in proportion as he exchangesearthly for spiritual views, he sees all things through a clearermedium. It is then, the Quakers believe, that the creation is open tohim, and that he finds his creator has made nothing in vain. It is thenthat he knows the natures of things; that he estimates their uses andtheir ends, and that he will never stretch these beyond their properbounds. Beholding animals in this sublime light, he will appreciatetheir strength, their capacities, and their feelings; and he will neveruse them but for the purposes intended by providence. It is then thatthe creation will delight him. It is then that he will find a growinglove to the animated objects of it. And this knowledge of their natures, and this love of them, will oblige him to treat them with tenderness andrespect. Hence all animals will have a security in the breast of everychristian or renovated man against oppression or abuse. He will neverdestroy them wantonly, nor put them to unnecessary pain. Now the Quakersare of opinion, that every person, who professes christianity, ought toview things as the man, who is renovated, would view them, and that itbecomes them therefore in particular, as a body of highly professingchristians, to view them in the same manner. Hence they uniformly lookupon animals, not as brute-machines, to be used at discretion, but asthe creatures of God, of whose existence the use and intention oughtalways to be considered, and to whom duties arise out of this spiritualfeeling, independently of any written law in the Old-Testament, or anygrant or charter, by which their happiness might be secured. 

The Quakers therefore, viewing animals in this light, believe that theyare bound to treat them accordingly. Hence the instigation of two horsesby whips and spurs for a trial of speed, in consequence of a moniedstake, is considered by the Quakers to be criminal. The horse was madefor the use of man, to carry his body and to transport his burdens; buthe was never made to engage in painful conflicts with other horses onaccount of the avarice of his owner. Hence the pitting together of twococks for a trial of victory is considered as equally criminal. For thecock, whatever may be his destined object among the winged creation, hasbeen long useful to man in awakening him from unseasonable slumber, andin sounding to him the approach of day. But it was never intended, thathe should be employed to the injury and destruction of himself, or tothe injury and destruction of his own species. In the same manner theQuakers condemn the hunting of animals, except on the plea of necessity, or that they cannot be destroyed, if their death be required, in anyother way. For whatever may be their several uses, or the several endsof their existence in creation, they were never created to be so used byman, that they should suffer, and this entirely for his sport. Whoeverputs animals to cruel and unnatural uses, disturbs, in the opinion ofthe Quakers, the harmony of the creation, and offends God. 

The Quakers in the second place, are of opinion that the renovated manmust have, in his own benevolent spirit, such an exalted sense of thebenevolent spirit of the Creator, as to believe, that he neverconstituted any part of animated nature, without assigning it its propershare of happiness during the natural time of its existence, or that itwas to have its moment, its hour, its day, or its year of pleasure. And, if this be the case, he must believe also, that any interruption of itstranquillity, without the plea of necessity, must be an innovation ofits rights as a living being. 

The Quakers believe also, that the renovated man, who loves all theworks of the creator, will carry every divine law, which has beenrevealed to him, as far as it is possible to be carried on account of asimilarity of natures through all animated creation, and particularlythat law, which forbids him to do to another, what he would dislike tobe done unto himself. Now this law is founded on the sense of bodily, and on the sense of the mental feelings. The mental feelings of men andbrutes, or the reason of man and the instinct of animals, are different. But their bodily feelings are alike; and they are in their dueproportions, susceptible of pain. The nature therefore of man and ofanimals is alike in this particular. He can anticipate and know theirfeelings by his own. He cannot therefore subject them to any actionunnecessarily, if on account of a similar construction of his ownorgans, such an action would produce pain to himself. His own power offeeling strongly commands sympathy to all that can feel: and thatgeneral sympathy, which arises to a man, when he sees pain inflicted onthe person of any individual of his own species, will arise, in theopinion of the Quakers, to the renovated man, when he sees it inflictedon the body of a brute. 

CHAP. VIII. 

_Objections started by philosophical moralists to the preceding systemof education--this system a prohibitory one--prohibitions sometimes thecause of greater evil than they prevent--they may confuse morality--andbreak the spirit--they render the vicious more vicious--and are not tobe relied upon as effectual, because built on a fake foundation--ignoranceno guardian of virtue--causes, not sub-causes, are to be contended against--no certain security but in knowledge and a love of virtue--prohibitions, where effectual, produce but a sluggish virtue. _

I have now stated the principal prohibitions, that are to be found inthe moral education of the Quakers, and I have annexed to these thevarious reasons, which the Quakers themselves give, why they wereintroduced into their society. I have therefore finished this part of mytask, and the reader will expect me to proceed to the next subject. Butas I am certain that many objections will be started here, I shall stopfor a few minutes to state, and to consider them. 

The Quakers differ on the subject of moral education, very materiallyfrom the world, and indeed from those of the world, who having had amore than ordinarily liberal education, may be supposed to have, in mostcases, a more than ordinarily correct judgment. The Quaker system, as wehave seen, consists principally of specific prohibitions. Theseprohibitions again, are extended occasionally to things, which are notin themselves vicious. They are extended, again, to these, because it ispossible that they may be made productive, of evil. And they arefounded apparently on the principle, that ignorance of such thingssecures innocence, or that ignorance, in such cases, has the operationof a preventive of vice, or a preservative of virtue. 

Philosophical moralists on the other hand, are friends to occasionalindulgences. They see nothing inherently or necessarily mischievous, either in the theatre or in the concert-room, or in the ball-room, or inthe circulating library, or in many other places of resort. If a youngfemale, say they, situated in a provincial town, were to see a playannually, would it not give her animation, and afford a spring to herheart? or if a youth were to see a play two or three times in the year, might not his parents, if they were to accompany him, make it each time, by their judicious and moral remarks, subservient to the improvement ofhis morals? neither do these moralists anticipate any danger by lookingto distant prospects, where the things are innocent in themselves. Andthey are of opinion, that all danger may be counteracted effectually, not by prohibitory checks and guards, but by storing the mind withknowledge, and filling it with a love of virtue. The argumentstherefore, which these will advance against the system of the moraleducation of the Quakers, may be seen in the following words. 

"All prohibitions, they contend, should be avoided, as much aspossible, in moral education; for prohibitions may often become thecause of greater immorality, than they were intended to prevent. Thefable of the hen, whose very prohibition led her chickens to the fatalwell, has often been realized in life, there is a certain curiosity inhuman nature to look into things forbidden. If Quaker youth should havethe same desires in this respect as others, they cannot gratify them butat the expence of their virtue. If they wish for novels, for example, they must get them clandestinely. If to go to the theatre, they must goin secret. But they must do more than this in the latter case, for asthey would be known by their dress, they must change it for that ofanother person. Hence they may be made capable of intrigue, hypocrisy, and deceit. "

"Prohibitions, again, they believe, except they be well founded, mayconfound the notions of children on the subject of morality; for if theyare forbidden to do what they see worthy and enlightened persons do, they may never know where to fix the boundaries between vice andvirtue. "

"Prohibitions, again, they consider, if made without an allowance ofexceptions, as having a tendency to break the spirit of youth. Break ahorse in the usual way, and teach him to stop with the check of thereins, and you break him, and preserve his courage. But put him in amill to break him, and you break his life and animation. Prohibitionstherefore may hinder elevated feeling, and may lead to poverty andsordidness of spirit. "

"Prohibitions, again, they believe, if youth once depart from the rightway, render them more vicious characters than common. This arises fromthe abruptness or suddenness of transition. For having been shut upwithin narrow boundaries for a part of their lives, they go greaterlengths, when once let loose, than others, who have not been equallycurbed and confined. "

"But while they are of opinion, that prohibitions are likely to be thusinjurious to Quaker-youth, they are of opinion, that they are never tobe relied upon as effectual guardians of morality, because they considerthem as built upon false principles. "

"They are founded, they conceive, on the principle, that ignorance is asecurity for innocence, or that vice is so attractive, that we cannotresist it but by being kept out of the way. In the first case, theycontend that the position is false; for ignorant persons are of allothers the most likely, when they fall into temptations, to be seduced, and in the second, they contend that there is a distrust of divineprovidence in his moral government of the world. "

"They are founded, again, they conceive, on false principles, inasmuchas the Quakers confound causes with sub-causes, or causes withoccasions. If a person, for example, were to get over a hedge, andreceive a thorn in his hand, and die of the wound, this thorn would beonly the occasion, and not the cause of his death. The bad state inwhich his body must have been, to have made this wound fatal, would havebeen the original cause. In like manner neither the theatre, nor theball-room are the causes of the bad passions, that are to be foundthere. All these passions must have existed in persons previously totheir entrance into these places. Plays therefore, or novels, or publicdances, are only the sub-causes, or the occasions of calling forth thepassions in question. The real cause is in the infected state of themind, or in the want of knowledge, or in the want of a love of virtue. "

"Prohibitions therefore, though they may become partial checks of vice, can never, they believe, be relied upon as effectual guardians ofvirtue. Bars and bolts seldom prevent thieves from robbing a house. Butif armed men should be in it, who would venture to enter in? In the samemanner the mind of man should be armed or prepared. It should be sofurnished, that men should be able to wander through a vicious world, amidst all its foibles and its follies, and pass uncontaminated by them. It should have that tone given to it, which should hinder allcircumstances from becoming occasions. But this can never be done bylocking up the heart to keep vice out of it, but by filling it withknowledge and with a love of virtue. "

"That this is the only method to be relied upon in moral education, theyconceive may be shewn by considering upon whom the pernicious effects ofthe theatre, or of the ball-room, or of the circulating library, principally fall. Do they not fall principally upon those, who havenever had a dignified education. 'Empty noddles, it is said, are fond ofplayhouses, ' and the converse, is true, that persons, whoseunderstandings have been enriched, and whose tastes have been corrected, find all such recreations tiresome. At least they find so much todisgust them, that what they approve does not make them adequate amends. This is the case also with respect to novels. These do harm principallyto barren minds. They do harm to those who have no proper employment fortheir time, or to those, who in the manners, conversation, and conduct, of their parents, or others with whom they associate, have no examplesof pure thinking, or of pure living, or of a pure taste. Those, on theother hand, who have been taught to love good books, will never runafter, or be affected by, bad ones. And the same mode of reasoning, theyconceive, is applicable to other cases. For if people are taught tolove virtue for virtue's sake, and, in like manner, to hate what isunworthy, because they have a genuine and living knowledge of itsunworthiness, neither the ball, nor concert-room, nor the theatre, northe circulating library, nor the diversions of the field, will havecharms enough to seduce them, or to injure the morality of their minds. "

To sum up the whole. The prohibitions of the Quakers, in the firstplace, may become injurious, in the opinion of these philosophicalmoralists, by occasioning greater evils, than they were intended toprevent. They can never, in the second place, be relied upon aseffectual guardians of virtue, because they consider them to be foundedon false principles. And if at any time they can believe them to beeffectual in the office assigned them, they believe them to to beproductive only of a cold or a sluggish virtue. 

MORAL EDUCATION. 

CHAP. IX. .. . SECT. I. 

_Reply of the Quakers to these objections--they say first, that they areto be guided by revelation in the education of their children--and thatthe education, which they adopt, is sanctioned by revelation, and by thepractice of the early Christians--they maintain again, that theobjections are not applicable to them, for they pre-supposecircumstances concerning them, which are not true--they allow the systemof filling the mind with virtue to be the most desirable--but theymaintain that it cannot be acted upon abstractedly--and, that if itcould, it would be as dangerous, as the philosophical moralists maketheir system of the prohibitions. _

To these objections the Quakers would make the following reply. 

They do not look up either to their own imaginations, or to theimaginations of others, for any rule in the education of their children. As a christian society, they conceive themselves bound to be guided byrevelation, and by revelation only, while it has any injunctions tooffer, which relate to this subject. 

In adverting to the Old Testament, they find that no less than nine, outof the ten commandments of Moses, are of a prohibitory nature, and, inadverting to the new, that many of the doctrines of Jesus Christ and theapostles are delivered in the form of prohibitions. They believe thatrevealed religion prohibits them from following all those pursuits, which the objections notice; for though there is no specific prohibitionof each, yet there is an implied one in the spirit of christianity, Violent excitements of the passions on sensual subjects must beunfavourable to religious advancement. Worldly pleasures must hinderthose, which are spiritual. Impure words and spectacles must affectmorals. Not only evil is to be avoided, but even the appearance of evil. While therefore these sentiments are acknowledged by christianity, it isto be presumed that the customs, which the objections notice, are to beavoided in christian education. And as the Quakers consider these to beforbidden to themselves, they feel themselves obliged to forbid them toothers. And, in these parcticular prohibitions, they consider themselvesas sanctioned both by the writings and the practice of the earlychristians. 

In looking at the objections, which have been made with a view ofreplying to them, they would observe first, that these objections do notseem to apply to them as a society, because they presupposecircumstances concerning them, which are not true. They presupposefirst, that their moral education is founded on prohibitions solely, whereas they endeavour both by the communication of positive precepts, and by their example, to fill the minds of their children with a love ofvirtue. They presuppose again, that they are to mix with the world, andto follow the fashions of the world, in which case a moderate knowledgeof the latter, with suitable advice when they are followed, isconsidered as enabling them to pass through life with less danger thanthe prohibition of the same, whereas they mix but little with others ofother denominations. They abjure the world, that they may not imbibe itsspirit. And here they would observe, that the knowledge, which isrecommended to be obtained, by going through perilous customs is notnecessary for them as a society. For living much at home, and mixingalmost solely with one another, they consider their education assufficient for their wants. 

If the Quakers could view the two different systems abstractedly, thatof filling the heart with virtue, and that of shutting it out from aknowledge of vice, so that they could be acted upon separately, and sothat the first of the two were practicable, and practicable withouthaving to go through scenes that were dangerous to virtue, they wouldhave no hesitation in giving the preference to the former; because ifmen could be taught to love virtue for virtue's sake, all the trouble ofprohibitions would be unnecessary. 

But the Quakers would conceive that the system of filling the mind withvirtue, if acted upon abstractedly, or by itself, would be impracticablewith respect to youth. To make it practicable children must be born withthe full grown intellect and experience of men. They must have an innateknowledge of all the tendencies, the bearings, the relations, and theeffects of virtue and vice. They must be also strong enough to looktemptation in the face; whereas youth have no such knowledge, orexperience, or strength, or power. 

They would consider also the system of filling the mind with virtue, asimpossible, if attempted abstractedly or alone, because it is not inhuman wisdom to devise a method of inspiring it with this essence, without first teaching it to abstain from vice. It is impossible, theywould say, for a man to be virtuous, or to be in love with virtue, except he were to lay aside his vicious practices. The first step tovirtue, according both to the Heathen and the Christian philosophy, isto abstain from vice. We are to cease to do evil, and to learn to dowell. This is the process recommended. Hence prohibitions are necessary. Hence sub-causes as well as causes are to be attacked. Hence abstinencefrom vice is a Christian, though it may be a sluggish, virtue. Henceinnocence is to be aimed at by an ignorance of vice. And hence we mustprohibit all evil, if we wish for the assistance of the moral governorof the world. 

But if the system of filling the heart with virtue were ever practicableof itself, that is, without the aid of prohibitions, yet if it be to befollowed by allowing young persons to pass through the variousamusements of the world which the Quakers prohibit, and by giving themmoral advice at the same time, they would be of opinion, that moredanger would accrue to their morality, than any, which the prohibitionscould produce. The prohibitions, as far as they have a tendency to curbthe spirit, would not be injurious, in the opinion of the Quakers, because it is their plan in education to produce humble, and passive, and obedient characters; and because spirit, or highmindedness, or highfeeling, is no trait in the Christian character. As far as thecuriosity, which is natural to man, would instigate him to look intothings forbidden, which he could not always do in the particularsituation of the Quakers, without the admission of intrigue, orhypocrisy, or deceit, prohibitions would be to be considered as evils, though they would always be necessary evils. But the Quakers wouldapprehend that the same number of youth would not be lost by passingthrough the ordeal of prohibitory education, as through the ordeal ofthe system, which attempts to fill the mind with virtue, by inuring itto scenes, which may be dangerous to its morality; for if tastes are tobe cultivated, and knowledge to be had, by adopting the amusementsprohibited by the Quakers, many would be lost, though some might beadvanced to virtue. For parents cannot always accompany their childrento such places, nor, if they could, can they prevent these fromfascinating. If these should fascinate, they will suggest repetitions. But frequent repetitions, where you accustom youth to see, to hear, andto think, what ought never to be heard, seen, or thought of byChristians, cannot but have the effect of tinging the character in time. This mode of education would be considered by the Quakers as answeringto that of "dear bought experience. " A person may come to see the beautyof virtue, when his constitution has been shattered by vice. But manywill perish in the midst of so hazardous a trial. [13]

[Footnote 13: Though no attempt is to be made to obtain knowledge, according to the Christian system, through the medium of customs whichmay be of immoral tendency, yet it does not follow that knowledge, properly obtained, is not a powerful guardian of virtue. This importantsubject may probably be resumed in a future volume. ]

SECT. II. 

_Quakers contend, by may of farther reply to the objections, that theireducation has been practically or experimentally beneficial--two factsin behalf of this assertion--the first is that young Quakers get earlierinto the wisdom of life than many others--the second, that there are fewdisorderly persons in the society--error corrected, that the Quakersturn persons out of the society, as soon as they begin to be vicious, that it may be rescued from the disgrace of a bad character. _

The answers, which have hitherto been given to the reader, may beconsidered as the statement of theory against theory. But the Quakers, would say farther upon this subject, that they have educated upon theseprinciples for a hundred and fifty years, and that, where they have beenattended to, their effects have been uniformly beneficial. They would befearful therefore of departing from a path, which they conceive theirown experience and that of their ancestors has shewn them to be safe, and which after all their inquiries, they believe to be that which ispointed out to them by the Christian religion. 

I shall not attempt to follow up this practical argument by any historyof the lives of the Quakers, but shall content myself with one or twosimple facts, which appear to me to be materially to the point. 

In the first place I may observe that it is an old saying, that it isdifficult to put old heads on young shoulders. The Quakers, however, dothis more effectually than any other people. It has often been observedthat a Quaker boy has an unnatural appearance. This idea has arisen fromhis dress and his sedateness, which together have produced anappearance of age above the youth in his countenance, or the stature ofhis person. This, however, is confessing, in some degree, in the casebefore us, that the discretion of age has appeared upon youthfulshoulders. It is certainly an undeniable fact, that the youth of thissociety, generally speaking, get earlier into a knowledge of justsentiments, or into a knowledge of human nature, or into a knowledge ofthe true wisdom of life, than those of the world at large. I have oftenbeen surprised to hear young Quakers talk of the folly and vanity ofpursuits, in which persons older than themselves were then embarking forthe purposes of pleasure, and which the same persons have afterwardsfound to have been the pursuits of uneasiness and pain. 

Let us stop for a while, just to look at the situation of some of thoseyoung persons, who, in consequence of a different education, areintroduced to the pleasures of the world, as to those, which are toconstitute their happiness. We see them running eagerly first after thisobject, then after that. One man says to himself "this will constitutemy pleasure. " He follows it. He finds it vanity and vexation of spirit. He says again "I have found my self deceived. I now see my happiness inother pleasures, and not in those where I fancied it. " He follows these. He becomes sickened. He finds the result different from hisexpectations. He pursues pleasure, but pleasure is not there. 

 [14]"They are lost In chase of fancied happiness, still woo'd, And never won. Dream after dream ensues; And still they dream, that they shall still succeed And still are disappointed. "

[Footnote 14: Cowper. ]

Thus after having wasted a considerable portion of his time, he isdriven at last by positive experience into the truth of those maxims, which philosophy and religion have established, and in the pursuit ofwhich alone he now sees that true happiness is to be found. Thus, inconsequence of his education, he looses two thirds of his time in tediousand unprofitable, if not in baneful pursuits. The young Quaker, on theother hand, comes, by means of his education, to the same maxims ofphilosophy and religion, as the foundation of his happiness, at a veryearly period of life, and therefore saves the time, and preserves theconstitution which the other has been wasting for want of this earlyknowledge. I know of no fact more striking, or more true in theQuaker-history, than this, namely, that the young Quaker, who is educatedas a Quaker, gets such a knowledge of human nature, and of the paths towisdom and happiness, at an early age, that, though he is known to be ayoung mariner by the youth displayed in his countenance, he is enabled toconduct his bark through the dangerous rocks and shoals of life, withgreater safety than many others, who have been longer on the ocean of thisprobationary world. 

I may observe again, as the second fact, that it is not unusual to hearpersons say, that you seldom see a disorderly Quaker, or, that aQuaker-prostitute or a Quaker criminal is unknown. These declarations, frequently and openly made, shew at least that there is an opinion amongthe world at large, that the Quakers are a moral people. 

The mention of this last fact leads me to the notice, and thecorrection, of an error, which I have found to have been taken up byindividuals. It is said by these that the Quakers are very wary withrespect to their disorderly members, for that when any of them behaveill, they are expelled the society in order to rescue it from thedisgrace of a bad character. Thus if a Quaker woman were discovered tobe a prostitute, or a Quaker man to be taken up for a criminal offence, no disgrace could attach to this society as it would to others; for if, in the course of a week, after a discovery had been made of theirseveral offences, any person were to state that two Quaker members hadbecome infamous, it would be retorted upon him, that they were notmembers of the society. 

It will be proper to observe upon the subject of this error, that it isnot so probable that the Quakers would disown these, after the discoveryof their infamy, to get rid of any stain upon the character of thesociety, as it is that these persons, long before the facts could beknown, had been both admonished and disowned. For there is great truthin the old maxim "Nemo fecit repente 'turpissimus;" or "no man was everall at once a rogue. "

So in the case of these persons, as of all others, they must have beenvicious by degrees: they must have shewn symptoms of some deviationsfrom rectitude, before the measure of their iniquity could have beencompleted. But by the constitution of Quakerism, as will appear soon, noperson of the society can be found erring even for the first time, without being liable to be privately admonished. These admonitions maybe repeated for weeks, or for months, or even for years, before thesubjects of them are pronounced so incorrigible as to be disowned. Thereis great reason therefore to presume, in the case before us, though theoffenders in question would have undoubtedly been disowned by theQuakers, after they were known to be such, yet that they had beendisowned long before their offences had been made public. 

Upon the whole it may be allowed, that young Quakers arrive at theknowledge of just sentiments, or at the true wisdom of life earlier thanthose, who are inured to the fashions of the world; and it may beallowed also that the Quakers, as a body, are a moral people. Now theseeffects will generally be considered as the result of education; andthough the prohibitions of the Quakers may not be considered as the onlyinstruments of producing these effects, yet they must be allowed to becomponent parts of the system, which produces them. 

DISCIPLINE OF THE QUAKERS. 

CHAP. I. .. . SECT. I. 

_Discipline of two kinds--as it relates to the regulation of theinternal affairs of the society--or to the cognizance of immoralconduct--difficulty of procuring obedience to moral precepts--thisattempted to be obviated by George Fox--outlines of his system for thispurpose--additions made to his system since his time--objections to thesystem considered--this system, or the discipline of the Quakers, as faras this branch of it is concerned, the great foundation-stone on whichtheir moral education is supported. _

The discipline of the Quakers is divisible into two parts. The first maycomprehend the regulation of the internal affairs of the society, suchas the management of the poor belonging to it, the granting ofcertificates of removal to its members, the hearing of their appealsupon various occasions, the taking cognizance of their proposals ofmarriage, and the like. The second may comprehend the notice orobservance of the moral conduct of individuals, with a view ofpreserving the rules, which the Quakers have thought it their duty tomake, and the testimonies which they have thought it their duty to bear, as a Christian people. It is to the latter part of the discipline that Ishall principally confine myself in the ensuing part of my work. 

Nothing is more true than that, when men err in their moral practice, itis not for want of good precepts or of wholesome advice. There are fewbooks from which we cannot collect some moral truths; and few men soblind, as not to be able to point out to us the boundaries of moralgood. The pages of revelation have been long unfolded to our view, anddiffusively spread among us. We have had the advantage too of havingtheir contents frequently and publicly repeated into our ears. And yet, knowing what is right, we cannot pursue it. We go off, on the otherhand, against our better knowledge, into the road to evil. Now, it wasthe opinion of George Fox, that something might be done to counteractthis infirmity of human nature, or to make a man keep up to the preceptswhich he believed to have been divinely inspired, or, in other words, that a system of Discipline might be devised, for regulating, exciting, and preserving the conduct of a Christian. 

This system he at length completed, and, as he believed, with the divineaid, and introduced it into the society with the approbation of thosewho belonged to it. 

The great principle, upon which he founded it, was, that every christianwas bound to watch over another for his good. This principle includedtwo ideas. First, that vigilance over the moral conduct of individualswas a christian duty. Secondly, that any interference with persons, whomight err, was solely for their good. Their reformation was to be theonly object in view. Hence religious advice was necessary. Hence it wasto be administered with tenderness and patience. Hence nothing was to beleft undone, while there was a hope that any thing could be done, fortheir spiritual welfare. 

From this view of the subject he enjoined it to all the members of hisnewly formed society, to be watchful over the conduct of one another, and not to hesitate to step in for the recovery of those, whom theymight discover to be overtaken with a fault. 

He enjoined it to them again, that they should follow the orderrecommended by Jesus Christ upon such occasions. [15] "If thy brothershall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee andhim alone. If he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother. But ifhe will not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, that in themouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established. And if heshall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the church; but, if he neglectto hear the church, let him be unto thee as a Heathen-man or aPublican. "

[Footnote 15: Matt. 18. 15, 16, 17. ]

For the carrying of this system into execution in the order thusrecommended, he appointed Courts, or meetings for dicipline, as theQuakers call them, with the approbation of the society, where the caseof the disorderly should be considered, if it should be brought to thecognizance of the church; and where a record should be kept of theproceedings of the society respecting it. In these courts or meetingsthe poor were to have an equal voice with the rich. --There was to be nodistinction but in favour of religious worth; And here it is to beremarked, that he was so desirous, that the most righteous judgmentshould be pronounced upon any offender, that he abandoned the usual modeof decision, in general so highly valued, by a majority, of voices, andrecommended the decision to be made according to the apparent will ofthe virtuous, who might be present. --And as expulsion from membershipwith the church was to be considered as the heaviest punishment, whichthe Quakers, as a religious body, could inflict, he gave the offender anopportunity of appealing to meetings, different from those in which thesentence had been pronounced against him, and where the decisive voiceswere again to be collected from the preponderant weight of religiouscharacter. 

He introduced also into his system of dicipline privileges in favour ofwomen, which marked his sense of justice, and the strength andliberality of his mind. The men he considered undoubtedly as the headsof the church, and from whom all laws concerning it ought to issue. Buthe did not deny women on that account any power, which he thought itwould be proper for them to hold. He believed them to be capable ofgreat usefulness, and therefore admitted them to the honour of being, inhis own society, of nearly equal importance with the men. --In thegeneral duty, imposed upon members, of watching over one another, helaid it upon the women, to be particularly careful in observing themorals of those of then own sex. He gave them also meetings fordicipline of their own, with the power, of recording their owntransactions, so that women were to act among courts or meetings ofwomen, as men among those of men. There was also to be no office in thesociety belonging to the men, but he advised there should be acorresponding one belonging to the women. By this new and impartial stephe raised the women of his own community beyond the level of women inothers, and laid the foundation of that improved strength of intellect, dignity of mind, capability of business, and habit of humane offices, which are so conspicuous among Female-Quakers at the present day. 

With respect to the numerous offices, belonging to the discipline, helaid it down as a principle, that the persons, who were to fill them, were to have no other emolument or reward, than that, which a faithfuldischarge of them would bring to their own consciences. 

These are the general outlines of the system of discipline, asintroduced by George Fox. This system was carried into execution, as hehimself had formed it, in his own time. Additions, however, have beenmade to it since, as it seemed proper, by the society at large. In thetime of George Fox, it was laid upon every member, as we have seen, towatch over his neighbour for his spiritual welfare. But in 1698, thesociety conceiving, that what was the business of every one mighteventually become the business of no one, appointed officers, whoseparticular duty it should be to be overseers of the morals ofindividuals; thus hoping, that by the general vigilance enjoined byGeorge Fox, which was still to continue, and by the particular vigilancethen appointed, sufficient care would be taken of the morals of thewhole body. In the time, again, of George Fox, women had, only theirmonthly and quarterly meetings for discipline, but it has since beendetermined, that they should have their yearly meetings equally with themen. In the time, again, of George Fox, none but the grave members wereadmitted into the meetings for discipline, but it has been since agreed, that young persons should have the privilege of attending them, andthis, I believe, upon the notion, that. While these meetings wouldquality them for transacting the business of the society, they mightoperate as schools far virtue. 

This system of discipline, as thus introduced by George Fox, and as thusenlarged by the society afterwards, has not escaped, notwithstanding theloveliness of its theory, the censure of the world. 

It has been considered in the first place, as a system of espionage, bywhich one member is made a spy upon, or becomes an informer againstanother. But against this charge it would be observed by the Quakers, that vigilance over morals is unquestionably a Christian duty. It wouldbe observed again that the vigilance which is exercised in this case, isnot with the intention of mischief, as in the case of spies andinformers, but with the intention of good. It is not to obtain money, but to preserve reputation and virtue. It is not to persecute but toreclaim. It is not to make a man odious, but to make him morerespectable. It is never an interference with innocence. Thewatchfulness begins to be offensive only, where delinquency is begun. 

The discipline, again, has been considered as too great aninfringement, of the liberty of those, who are brought under it. Againstthis the Quakers would contend, that all persona who live in civilsociety, must give up a portion of their freedom, that more happinessand security may be enjoyed. So, when men enter into Christiansocieties, they must part with a little of their liberty for their moralgood. 

But whatever may be the light in which persons, not of the society, mayview this institution, the Quakers submit to, and respect it. It ispossible there may be some, who may feel it a restraint upon theirconduct. And there is no doubt, that it is a restraint upon those, whohave irregular desires to gratify, or destructive pleasures to pursue. But generally speaking, the youth of the society, who receive aconsistent education, approve of it. Genuine Quaker parents, as I havehad occasion to observe, insist upon the subjugation of the will. It istheir object to make their children lowly, patient and submissive. Thosetherefore, who are born in the society, are born under the system, andare in general educated for it. Those who become converted to thereligion of the society, know beforehand the terms of their admission. And it will appear to all to be at least an equitable institution, because in the administration of it, there is no exception of persons. The officers themselves, who are appointed to watch over, fall under theinspection of the discipline. The poor may admonish the rich, and therich the poor. There, is no exception, in short, either for age, or sex, or station. 

It is not necessary, at least in the present place, that I should gofarther, and rake up all the objections, that may be urged upon thissubject. I shall therefore only observe here, that the discipline of theQuakers, notwithstanding all its supposed imperfections, whatever, theymay be, is the grand foundation-stone, upon which their moral educationis supported. It is the grand partition wall between them and vice. Ifthis part of the fabric were ever allowed to, be undermined, thebuilding would fall to pieces; though the Quakers might still be knownby their apparel and their language, they would no longer be soremarkable as they are now generally confessed to, be, for their moralcharacter. 

SECT. II. 

_Manner of the administration of the discipline of theQuakers--Overseers appointed to every particular meeting--Manner ofreclaiming an individual--first by admonition--this sometimessuccessful--secondly by dealing--this sometimes successful--but ifunsuccessful, the offender is disowned--but he may appeal afterwards totwo different courts or meetings for redress. --_

Having now given the general outlines of the discipline of the Quakers, Ishall proceed to explain the particular manner of the administration ofit. 

To administer it effectually all individuals of the society, as I havejust stated, whether men or women, are allowed the power of watchingover the conduct of one another for their good, and of interfering ifthey should see occasion. 

But besides this general care two or more persons of age and experience, and of moral lives and character, and two or more women of a similardescription, are directed to be appointed, to have the oversight ofevery congregation or particular meeting in the kingdom. These personsare called overseers, because it is their duty to oversee theirrespective flocks. 

If any of the members should violate the prohibitions mentioned in theformer part of the work, or should become chargeable with injustice, drunkenness, or profane swearing, or neglect of their public worship, orshould act in any way inconsistently with his character as a christian, it becomes the particular duty of these overseers, though it is also theduty of the members at large, to visit him in private, to set beforehim the error and consequences of his conduct, and to endeavour by allthe means in their power to reclaim him. This act on the part of theoverseer is termed by the society admonishing. The circumstances ofadmonishing and of being admonished are known only to the parties, except the case should have become of itself notorious; for secrecy isheld sacred on the part of the persons who admonish. Hence it mayhappen, that several of the society may admonish the same person, thoughno one of them knows that any other has been visiting him at all. Theoffender may be thus admonished by overseers and other individuals forweeks and months together, for no time is fixed by the society, and nopains are supposed to be spared for his reformation. It is expected, however, in all such admonitions, that no austerity of language ormanner should be used, but that he should be admonished in tendernessand love. 

If an overseer, or any other individual, after having thus laboured toreclaim another for a considerable length of time, finds that he has notsucceeded in his work, and feels also that he despairs of succeeding byhis own efforts, he opens the matter to some other overseer, or to oneor more serious members, and requests their aid. These persons now waitupon the offender together, and unite their efforts in endeavouring topersuade him to amend his life. This act, which now becomes more publicby the junction of two or three in the work of his reformation, is stillkept a secret from other individuals of the society, and still retainsthe name of admonishing. 

It frequently happens that, during these different admonitions, theoffender sees his error, and corrects his conduct. The visitations ofcourse cease, and he goes on in the estimation of the society as aregular or unoffending member, no one knowing but the admonishingpersons, that he has been under the discipline of the society. I mayobserve here, that what is done by men to men is done by women to women, the women admonishing and trying to reclaim those of their own sex, inthe same manner. 

Should, however, the overseers, and other persons before mentioned, findafter a proper length of time that all their united efforts have beenineffectual, and that they have no hope of success with respect to hisamendment, they lay the case, if it should be of a serious nature, before a [16]court, which has the name of the monthly meeting. Thiscourt, or meeting, make a minute of the case, and appoint a committee tovisit him. The committee in consequence, of their appointment wait uponhim. This act is now considered as a public act, or as an act of thechurch. It is not now termed admonishing, but changes its name to[17]dealing. The offender too, while the committee are dealing withhim, though he may attend the meetings of the society for worship, doesnot attend those of their discipline. 

[Footnote 16: Certain acts of delinquency are reported to the monthlymeeting, as soon as the truth of the facts can be ascertained, such as aviolation of the rules of the society, with respect to marriage, paymentof tythes, etc. ]

[Footnote 17: Women, though they may admonish, cannot deal with women, this being an act of the church, till they have consulted the meetingsof the men. Men are generally joined with women in the commission forthis purpose. ]

If the committee, after having dealt with the offender according totheir appointment, should be satisfied that he is sensible of his error, they make a report to the monthly court or meeting concerning him. Aminute is then drawn up, in which it is stated, that he has madesatisfaction for the offence. It sometimes happens, that he himselfsends to the same meeting a written acknowledgement of his error. Fromthis time he attends the meetings for discipline again, and is continuedin the society, as if nothing improper had taken place. Nor is any oneallowed to reproach him for his former faults. 

Should, however, all endeavours prove ineffectual, and should thecommittee, after having duly laboured with the offender, consider him atlast as incorrigible, they report their proceedings to the monthlymeeting. He is then publicly excluded from membership, or, as it iscalled, [18]disowned. This is done by a distinct document, called atestimony of disownment, in which the nature of the offence, and themeans that have been used to reclaim him, are described. A wish is alsogenerally expressed in this document, that he may repent, and be takeninto membership again. A copy of this minute is always required to begiven to him. 

[Footnote 18: Women cannot disown, the power of disowning, is an act ofthe church, being vested in the meetings of the men. ]

If the offender should consider this act of disowning him as an unjustproceeding, he may appeal to a higher tribunal, or to the quarterlycourt, or meeting. This quarterly court or meeting, then appoint acommittee, of which no one of the monthly meeting that condemned him canbe a member, to reconsider his ease. Should this committee report, andthe quarterly meeting in consequence decide against him, he may appealto the yearly. This latter meeting is held in London, and consists ofdeputies and others from all parts of the kingdom. The yearly meetingthen appoint a committee of twelve deputies, taken from twelve quarterlymeetings, none of whom can be from the quarterly meeting that passedsentence against him, to examine his case again. If this committeeshould confirm the former decisions, he may appeal to the yearly meetingat large; but beyond this there is no appeal. But if he should even bedisowned by the voice of the yearly meeting at large, he may, if helives to give satisfactory proof of his amendment, and sues forreadmission into the society, be received into membership again; but hecan only be received through the medium of the monthly meeting, by whichhe was first disowned. 

SECT. III

_Two charges usually brought against this administration of thediscipline--that it is managed with an authoritative spirit--and that itis managed partially--these charges are considered. _

As two charges are usually brought against the administration of thatpart of the discipline, which has been just explained, I shall considerthem in this place. 

The first usually is, that, though the Quakers abhor what they call theauthority of priest craft, yet some overseers possess a portion of thespirit of ecclesiastical dominion; that they are austere, authoritative, and over bearing in the course of the exercise of their office, andthat, though the institution may be of Christian origin, it is notalways conducted by these with a Christian spirit. To this first chargeI shall make the following reply. 

That there may be individual instances, where this charge may befounded, I am neither disposed, nor qualified, to deny. Overseers havetheir different tempers, like other people; and the exercise of dominionhas unquestionably a tendency to spoil the heart. So far there is anopening for the admission of this charge. But it must be observed, onthe other hand, that the persons, to be chosen overseers, are to be bythe laws of the society[19] "as upright and unblameable in theirconversation, as they can be found, in order that the advice, which theyshall occasionally administer to other friends, may be the betterreceived, and carry with it the greater weight and force on the minds ofthose, whom they shall be concerned to admonish. " It must be observedagain that it is expressly enjoined them, that "they are to exercisetheir functions in a meek, calm, and peaceable spirit, in order thatthe admonished may see that their interference with their conductproceeds from a principle of love and a regard for their good, andpreservation in the truth. "

[Footnote 19: Book of extracts. ]

And it must be observed again, that any violation of this injunctionwould render them liable to be admonished by others, and to come underthe discipline themselves. 

The second charge is, that the discipline is administered partially; orthat more favour is shewn to the rich than to the poor, and that thelatter are sooner disowned than the former for the same faults. 

This latter charge has probably arisen from a vulgar notion, that, asthe poor are supported by the society, there is a general wish to getrid of them. --But this notion is not true. There is more than ordinarycaution in disowning those who are objects of support, add to which, that, as some of the most orderly members of the body are to be foundamong the poor, an expulsion of these, in a hasty manner, would be adiminution of the quantum of respectability, or of the quantum of moralcharacter, of the society at large. 

In examining this charge, it must certainly be allowed, that though theprinciple "of no respect of persons" is no where carried to a greaterlength than in the Quaker Society, yet we may reasonably expect to finda drawback from the full operation of it in a variety of causes. We areall of us too apt, in the first place, to look up to the rich, but tolook down upon the poor. We are apt to court the good will of theformer, when we seem to care very little even whether we offend thelatter. The rich themselves and the middle classes of men respect therich more than the poor; and the poor show more respect to the rich thanto one another. Hence it is possible; that a poor man may find morereluctance in entering the doors of a rich man to admonish him, than onewho is rich to enter the doors of the poor for the same purpose, men, again, though they may be equally good, may not have all the samestrength of character. Some overseers may be more timid than others, andthis timidity may operate upon them more in the execution of their dutyupon one class of individuals, than upon another. Hence a rich man mayescape for a longer time without admonition, than a poorer member. Butwhen the ice is once broken; when admonition is once begun; whenrespectable persons have been called in by overseers or others, thosecauses, which might be preventive of justice, will decrease; and, if thematter should be carried to a monthly or a quarterly meeting, they willwholly vanish. For in these courts it is a truth, that those, who arethe most irreproachable for their lives, and the most likely of courseto decide justly on any occasion, are the most attended to, or carry themost weight, when they speak publicly. Now these are to be foundprincipally in the low and middle classes, and these, in all societies, contain the greatest number of individuals. As to the very rich, theseare few indeed compared with the rest, and these may be subdivided intotwo classes for the farther elucidation of the point. The first willconsist of men, who rigidly follow the rules of the society, and are asexemplary as the very best of the members. The second will consist ofthose, who we members according to the letter, but not according to thespirit, and who are content with walking in the shadow, that follows thesubstance of the body. Those of the first class will do justice, andthey will have on equal influence with any. Those of the second, whatever may be their riches, or whatever they may say, are seldom ifever attended to in the administration of the discipline. 

From hence it will appear, that if there be any partiality in theadministration of this institution, it will consist principally in this, that a rich man may be suffered in particular cases, to go longerwithout admonition than a poorer member; but that after admonition hasbeen begun, justice will be impartially administered; and that thecharges of a preference, where disowning is concerned, has no solidfoundation for its support. 

SECT. IV. 

_Three great principles discoverable in the discipline, as hithertoexplained--these applicable to the discipline of larger societies, or tothe criminal codes of states--lamentable, that as Christian principles, they have not been admitted into our own--Quakers, as far as they havehad influence in legislation, have adopted them--exertions of WilliamPenn--Legislature of Pennsylvania as example to other countries in thisparticular. _

I find it almost impossible to proceed to the great courts or meetingsof the Quakers, which I had allotted for my next subject, withoutstopping a while to make a few observations on the principles of thatpart of the discipline, which I have now explained. 

It may be observed, first, that the great object of this part of thediscipline is the reformation of the offending person: secondly, thatthe means of effecting this object consists of religious instruction oradvice: and thirdly, that no pains are to be spared, and no time to belimited, for the trial of these means, or, in other words, that nothingis to be left undone, while there is a hope that the offender may bereclaimed. Now these principles the Quakers adopt in the exercise oftheir discipline, because, as a Christian community, they believe theyought to be guided only by Christian principles, and they know of noother, which the letter, or the spirit of Christianity, can warrant. 

I shall trespass upon the patience of the reader in this place, onlytill I have made an application of these principles, or till I haveshewn him how far these might be extended, and extended with advantageto morals, beyond the limits of the Quaker-society, by being received asthe basis, upon which a system, of penal laws might be founded, amonglarger societies, or states. 

It is much to be lamented, that nations, professing Christianity, shouldhave lost sight, in their various acts of legislation, of Christianprinciples: or that they should not have interwoven some such beautifulprinciples as those, which we have seen adopted by the Quakers, into thesystem of their penal laws. But if this negligence or omission wouldappear worthy of regret, if reported of any Christian nation, it wouldappear most so, if reported of our own, where one would have supposed, that the advantages of civil and religious liberty, and those of areformed religion, would have had their influence is the correction ofour judgments, and in the benevolent dispositions of our will. And yetnothing is more true, than that these good influences have either neverbeen produced, or, if produced, that they have never been attended to, upon this subject. There seems to be no provision for religionsinstruction in our numerous prisons. We seem to make no patient trialsof those, who are confined in them, for their reformation. But, on theother hand, we seem to hurry them off the stage of life, by means of acode, which annexes death to two hundred different offences, as if wehad allowed our laws to be written by the bloody pen of the pagan Draco. And it seems remarkable, that this system should be persevered in, whenwe consider that death, as far as the experiment has been made in ourown country, has little or no effect as a punishment for crimes. Forgery, and the circulation of forged paper, and the counterfeiting ofthe money of the realm, are capital offences, and are never pardoned. And yet no offences are more frequently committed than these. And itseems still more remarkable, when we consider, in addition to this, thatin consequence of the experiments, made in other countries, it seems tobe approaching fast to an axiom, that crimes are less frequent, inproportion as mercy takes place of severity, or as there are judicioussubstitutes for the punishment of death. 

I shall not inquire, in this place, how far the right of taking awaylife on many occasions, which is sanctioned by the law of the land, canbe supported on the ground of justice, or how for a greater injury isdone by it, than the injury the criminal has himself done. AsChristians, it seems that we should be influenced by Christianprinciples. Now nothing can be more true, than that Christianitycommands us to be tender hearted one to another, to have a tenderforbearance one with another, and to regard one another as brethren. Weare taught also that men, independently of their accountableness totheir own governments, are accountable for their actions in a futurestate, and that punishments are unquestionably to follow. But where areour forbearance and our love, where is our regard for the temporal andeternal interests of man, where is our respect for the principles of thegospel, if we make the reformation of a criminal a less object than hispunishment, or if we consign him to death, in the midst of his sins, without having tried all the means in our power for his recovery?

Had the Quakers been the legislators of the world, they had long agointerwoven the principles of their discipline into their penal codes, and death had been long ago abolished as a punishment for crimes. As faras they have had any power with legislatures, they have procured anattention to these principles. George Fox remonstrated with the judgesin his time on the subject of capital punishments. But the Quakershaving been few in number, compared with the rest of their countrymen, and having had no seats in the legislature, and no predominant interestwith the members of it, they have been unable to effect any change inEngland on this subject. In Pennsylvania, however, where they were theoriginal colonists, they have had influence with their own government, and they have contributed to set up a model of jurisprudence, worthy ofthe imitation of the world. 

William Penn, on his arrival in America, formed a code of laws chieflyon Quaker principles, in which, however, death was inscribed as apunishment, but it was confined to murder. Queen Anne set this codeaside, and substituted the statute and common law of the mother country. It was, however, resumed in time, and acted upon for some years, when itwas set aside by the mother country again. From this time it continueddormant till the separation of America from England. But no sooner hadthis event taken place, which rendered the American states their ownlegislators, than the Pennsylvanian Quakers began to aim at obtaining analteration of the penal laws. In this they were joined by worthyindividuals of other denominations; and these, acting in union, procuredfrom the legislature of Pennsylvania, in the year 1786, a reform of thecriminal code. This reform, however, was not carried, in the opinion ofthe Quakers, to a sufficient length. Accordingly, they took the leadagain, and exerted themselves afresh upon this subject. Many of themformed themselves into a society "for alleviating the miseries of publicprisons. " Other persons co-operated with them in this undertaking also. At length, after great perseverance, they prevailed upon the samelegislature, in the year 1790, to try an ameliorated system. This trialanswered so well, that the same legislature again, in the year 1794, established an act, in which several Quaker principles wereincorporated, and in which only the crime of premeditated murder waspunishable with death. 

As there is now but one capital offence in Pennsylvania, punishments forother offences are made up of fine, imprisonment, and labour; and theseare awarded separately or conjointly, according to the magnitude of thecrime. 

When criminals have been convicted, and sent to the great gaol ofPhiladelphia to undergo their punishment, it is expected of them thatthey should maintain themselves out of their daily labour; that theyshould pay for their board and washing, and also for the use of theirdifferent implements of labour; and that they should defray the expencesof their commitment, and of their prosecutions and their trials. Anaccount therefore is regularly kept against them, and if at theexpiration of the term of their punishment, there should be a surplus ofmoney in their favour, arising out of the produce of their work, it isgiven to them on their discharge. 

An agreement is usually made about the price of prison-labour betweenthe inspector of the gaol and the employers of the criminals. 

As reformation is now the great object in Pennsylvania, where offenceshave been committed, it is of the first importance that the gaoler andthe different inspectors should be persons of moral character. Goodexample, religious advice, and humane treatment on the part of these, will have a tendency to produce attention, respect, and love on the partof the prisoners, and to influence their moral conduct. Hence it is arule never to be departed from, that none are to be chosen as successorsto these different officers, but such, as shall be found on inquiry tohave been exemplary in their lives. 

As reformation, again, is now the great object, no corporal punishmentis allowed in the prison. No keeper can strike a criminal. Nor can anycriminal be put into irons. All such punishments are considered as doingharm. They tend to extirpate a sense of shame. They tend to degrade aman and to make him consider himself as degraded in his own eyes;whereas it is the design of this change in the penal system, that heshould be constantly looking up to the restoration of his dignity as aman, and to the recovery of his moral character. 

As reformation, again, is now the great object, the following[20] systemis adopted. No intercourse is allowed between the males and the females, nor any between the untried and the convicted prisoners. While they areengaged in their labour, they are allowed to talk only upon the subject, which immediately relates to their work. All unnecessary conversationis forbidden. Profane swearing is never overlooked. A strict watch iskept, that no spirituous liquors may be introduced. Care is taken thatall the prisoners have the benefit of religious instruction. The prisonis accordingly open, at stated times, to the pastors of the differentreligious denominations of the place. And as the mind of man may beworked upon by rewards as well as by punishments, a hope is held out tothe prisoners, that the time of their confinement may be shortened bytheir good behaviour. For the inspectors, if they have reason to believethat a solid reformation has taken place in any individual, have a powerof interceding for his enlargement, and the executive government ofgranting it, if they think it proper. In the case, where the prisonersare refractory, they are usually put into solitary confinement, anddeprived of the opportunity of working. During this time the expences oftheir board and washing are going on, so that they are glad to get intoemployment again, that they may liquidate the debt, which, since thesuspension of their labour, has been accruing to the gaol. 

[Footnote 20: As cleanliness is connected with health, and health withmorals, the prisoner are obliged to wash and clean themselves everymorning before their work, and to bathe in the summer-season, in a largereservoir of water, which is provided in the court yard of the prisonfor this purpose. ]

In consequence of these regulations, those who visit the criminals inPhiladelphia in the hours of their labour, have more the idea of alarge manufactory, than of a prison. They see nail-makers, sawyers, carpenters, joiners, weavers, and others, all busily employed. They seeregularity and order among these. And as no chains are to be seen in theprison, they seem to forget their situation as criminals, and to lookupon them as the free and honest labourers of a community followingtheir respective trades. 

In consequence of these regulations, great advantages have arisen bothto the criminals, and to the state. The state has experienced adiminution of crimes to the amount of one half since the change of thepenal system, and the criminals have been restored, in a greatproportion, from the gaol to the community, as reformed persons. For fewhave been known to stay the whole term of their confinement. But noperson could have had any of his time remitted him, except he had beenconsidered both by the inspectors and the executive government asdeserving it. This circumstance of permission to leave the prison beforethe time expressed in the sentence, is of great importance to theprisoners. For it operates as a certificate for them of their amendmentto the world at large. Hence no stigma is attached to them for havingbeen the inhabitants of a prison. It may be observed also, that some ofthe most orderly and industrious, and such as have worked at the mostprofitable trades, have had sums of money to take on their discharge, by which they have been able to maintain themselves honestly, till theycould get into employ. 

Such is the state, and such the manner of the execution of the penallaws of Pennsylvania, as founded upon Quaker-principles, so happy havethe effects of this new system already been, that it is supposed it willbe adopted by the other American States. 

May the example be universally followed! May it be universally receivedas a truth, that true policy is inseparable from virtue; that inproportion as principles become lovely on account of their morality, they will become beneficial, when acted upon, both to individual and toStates; or that legislators cannot raise a constitution upon so fair andfirm a foundation, as upon the gospel of Jesus Christ!

CHAP. II. 

_Monthly court or meeting--constitution of this meeting--each county isusually divided into parts--in each of these parts or divisions areseveral meeting-houses, which have their several congregations attachedto them--one meeting-house in each division is fixed upon fortransacting the business of all the congregations in thatdivision--deputies appointed from every particular meeting orcongregation in each division to the place fixed upon for transactingthe business within it--nature of the business to be transacted--womenbecome deputies, and transact business, equally with the men. _

I come, after this long digression, to the courts of the Quakers. Andhere I shall immediately premise, that I profess to do little more thanto give a general outline of these. I do not intend to explain theproceedings, preparatory to the meetings there, or to state all theexceptions from general rules, or to trouble the memory of the readerwith more circumstances than will be sufficient to enable him to have ageneral idea of this part of the discipline of the Quakers. 

The Quakers manage their discipline by means of monthly, quarterly, andyearly courts, to which, however they themselves uniformly give the nameof meetings. 

To explain the nature and business of the monthly or first of thesemeetings, I shall fix upon some county in my own mind, and describe thebusiness, that is usually done in this in the course of the month. Foras the business, which is usually transacted in any one county, is doneby the Quakers in the same manner and in the same month in another, thereader, by supposing an aggregate of counties, may easily imagine, howthe whole business of the society is done for the whole kingdom. 

The Quakers[21] usually divide a county into a number of parts, according to the Quaker-population of it. In each of these divisionsthere are usually several meeting-houses, and these have their severalcongregations attached to them. One meeting-house, however, in eachdivision, is usually fixed upon for transacting the business of all thecongregations that are within it, or for the holding of these monthlycourts. The different congregations of the Quakers, or the members ofthe different particular meetings, which are settled in the northernpart of the county, are attached of course to the meeting-house, whichhas been fixed upon in the northern division of it because it gives themthe least trouble to repair to it on this occasion. The numbers of thoseagain, which are settled in the southern, or central, or other parts ofthe county, are attached to that, which has been fixed upon in thesouthern, or central, or other divisions of it, for the same reason. Thedifferent congregations in the northern division of the county appoint, each of them, a set of deputies once a month, which deputies are of bothsexes, to repair to the meeting-house, which has been thus assignedthem. The different congregations in the southern, central, or otherdivisions, appoint also, each of them, others, to repair to that, whichhas been assigned them in like manner. These deputies are all of thempreviously instructed in the matters, belonging to the congregations, which they respectively represent. 

[Footnote 21: This was the ancient method, when the society was numerousin every county of the kingdom, and the principle is still followedaccording to existing circumstances. ]

At length the day arrives for the monthly meeting. The deputies makeready to execute the duties committed to their trust. They repair, eachsett of them, to their respective places of meeting. Here a number ofQuakers, of different ages and of both sexes, from their differentdivisions, repair also. It is expected that[22] all, who canconveniently attend, should be present on this occasion. 

[Footnote 22: There may be persons, who on account of immoral conductcannot attend. ]

When they are collected at the meeting-house, which was said to havebeen fixed upon in each division, a meeting for worship takes place. Allpersons, both men and women, attend together. But when this meeting isover, they separate into different apartments for the purposes of thediscipline; the men to transact by themselves the business of the men, and of their own district, the women to transact that, which is morelimited, namely such as belongs to their own sex. 

In the men's meeting, and it is the same in the women's, the names ofthe deputies beforementioned, are first entered in a book, for, untilthis act takes place, the meeting for discipline is not considered to beconstituted. 

The minutes of the last monthly meeting are then generally read, bywhich it is seen if any business of the society was left unfinished. Should any thing occur of this sort, it becomes the [23]first object tobe considered and dispatched. 

[Footnote 23: The London monthly meetings begin differently from thosein the country. ]

The new business, in which the deputies were said to have beenpreviously instructed by the congregations which they represented comeson. This business may be of various sorts. One part of it uniformlyrelates to the poor. The wants of these are provided for, and theeducation of their children taken care of, at this meeting. Presentations of marriages are received, and births, marriages, andfunerals are registered. If disorderly members, after long and repeatedadmonitions, should have given no hopes of amendment, their case isfirst publicly cognizable in this court. Committees are appointed tovisit, advise, and try to reclaim them. Persons, reclaimed by thesevisitations, are restored to membership, after having been well reportedof by the parties deputed to visit them. The fitness of persons, applying for membership, from other societies, is examined here. Answersalso are prepared to the [24]queries at the proper time. Instructionsalso are given, if necessary, to particular meetings, suited to theexigencies of their cases; and certificates are granted to members onvarious occasions. 

[Footnote 24: These queries will be explained in the next chapter. ]

In transacting this, and other business of the society, all memberspresent we allowed to speak. The poorest man in the meeting-house, though he may be receiving charitable contributions at the time, isentitled to deliver his sentiments upon any point. He may bring forwardnew matter. He may approve or object to what others have proposed beforehim. No person may interrupt him, while he speaks. The youth, who aresitting by, are gaining a knowledge of the affairs and discipline of thesociety, and are gradually acquiring sentiments and habits, that are tomark their character in life. They learn, in the first place, the dutyof a benevolent and respectful consideration for the poor. In hearingthe different cases argued and discussed, they learn, in some measure, the rudiments of justice, and imbibe opinions of the necessity of moralconduct. In these courts they learn to reason. They learn also to hearothers patiently, and without interruption, and to transact business, that may come before them in maturer years with regularity and order. 

I cannot omit to mention here the orderly manner in which, the Quakers, conduct their business on these occasions. When a subject is broughtbefore them, it is canvassed to the exclusion of all extraneous matter, till some conclusion results. The clerk of the monthly meeting thendraws up a minute, containing, as nearly as he can collect, thesubstance of this conclusion. This minute is then read aloud to theauditory, and either stands or undergoes an alteration, as appears, bythe silence or discussion upon it, to be the sense of the meeting. Whenfully agreed upon, it stands ready to be recorded. When a second subjectcomes on, it is canvassed, and a minute is made of it, to be recorded inthe same manner, before a third is allowed to be introduced. Thus eachpoint is settled, till the whole business of the meeting is concluded. 

I may now mention that in the same manner as the men proceed in theirapartment on this occasion, the women proceed in their own apartment ormeeting also. There are women-deputies, and women-clerks. They enterdown the names of these deputies, read the minutes, of the last monthlymeeting, bring forward the new matter, and deliberate and argue on theaffairs of their own sex. They record their proceedings equally. Theyoung females also, are present, and have similar opportunities ofgaining knowledge, and of improving their judgments, and of acquiringuseful and moral habits, as the young men. 

It is usual, when the women have finished the business of their ownmeeting, to send one of their members to the apartments of the men, toknow if they have any thing to communicate. This messenger havingreturned, and every thing having been settled and recorded in bothmeetings, the monthly meeting is over, and men, women, and youth of bothsexes, return to their respective homes. 

In the same manner as the different congregations, or members of thedifferent meetings, in any one division of the county, meet together, and transact their monthly business, so other different congregations, belonging to other divisions of the same county, meet at other appointedplaces, and dispatch their business also. And in the same manner as thebusiness is thus done in one county, it is done in every other countyof the kingdom once a month. 

CHAP. III. 

_Quarterly court or meeting--constitution of this meeting--one place ineach county is now fixed upon for the transaction of business-this placemay be different in the different quarters of the year--deputies fromthe various monthly meetings are appointed to repair to thisplace--nature of the business to be transacted--certain queriesproposed--written answers carried to these by the deputies justmentioned--Queries proposed in the womens meeting also, and answered inthe same manner_. --

The quarterly meeting of the Quakers, which comes next in order, is muchmore numerously attended than the monthly. The monthly, as we have justseen, superintend the concerns of a few congregations or particularmeetings which were contained in a small division of the county. Thequarterly meeting, on the other hand, superintends the concerns of allthe monthly meetings in the county at large. It takes cognizance ofcourse of the concerns of a greater portion of population, and, as thename implies, for a greater extent of time. The Quaker population of a[25] whole county is now to assemble in one place. This place, however, is not always the same. It may be different, to accommodate the membersin their turn, in the different quarters of the year. 

[Footnote 25: I still adhere, to give the reader a clearer idea of thediscipline, and to prevent confusion, to the division by county, thoughthe district in question may not always comprehend a complete county. ]

In the same manner as the different congregations in a small division ofa county have been shewn to have sent deputies to the respective monthlymeetings within it, so the different monthly meetings in the same countysend each of them, deputies to the quarterly. Two or more of each sexare generally deputed from each monthly meeting. These deputies aresupposed to have understood, at the monthly meeting, where they werechosen, all the matters which the discipline required them to knowrelative to the state and condition of their constituents. Furnishedwith this knowledge, and instructed moreover by written documents on avariety of subjects, they repair at a proper time to the place ofmeeting. All the Quakers in the district in question, who are expectedto go, bend their direction hither. Any person travelling in the countyat this time, would see an unusual number of Quakers upon the roaddirecting their journey to the same point. Those who live farthest fromthe place where the meeting is held, have often a long journey toperform. The Quakers are frequently out two or three whole days, andsometimes longer upon this occasion. But as this sort of meeting takesplace but once in the quarter, the loss of their time, and the fatigueof their journey, and the expences attending it, are borne cheerfully. 

When all of them are assembled, nearly the same custom obtains at thequarterly, as has been described at the monthly meeting. A meeting forworship is first held. The men and women, when this is over, separateinto their different apartments, after which the meeting for disciplinebegins in each. 

I shall not detail the different kinds of business, which come on atthis meeting. I shall explain the principal subject only. 

The society at large have agreed upon a number of questions, or queriesas they call them, which they have committed to print, and which theyexpect to be read and answered in the course of these quarterly meetingsThe following is a list of them. 

I. Are meetings for worship and discipline kept up, and do Friendsattend them duly, and at the time appointed; and do they avoid allunbecoming behavieur therein?

II. Is there among you any growth in the truth; and hath anyconvincement appeared since last year?

III. Are Friends preserved in love towards each other; if differencesarise, is due care taken speedily to end them; and are Friends carefulto avoid and discourage tale-bearing and detraction?

IV. Do Friends endeavour by example and precept to train up theirchildren, servants, and all under their core, in a religions life andconversation, consistent with our Christian profession, in the frequentreading of the holy scriptures, and in plainness of speech, behaviourand apparel?

V. Are Friends just in their dealings and punctual in fulfilling theirengagements; and are they annually advised carefully to inspect thestate of their affairs once in the year?

VI. Are Friends careful to avoid all vain sports and places ofdiversion, gaming, all unnecessary frequenting of taverns, and otherpublic houses, excess in drinking, and other intemperance?

VII. Do Friends bear a faithful and Christian testimony againstreceiving and paying tythes, priests demands, and those calledchurch-rates?

VIII. Are Friends faithful in our testimony against bearing arms, andbeing in any manner concerned in the militia, in privateers, letters ofmarque, or armed vessels, or dealing in prize-goods?

IX. Are Friends clear of defrauding the king of his customs, duties andexcise, and of using, or dealing in goods suspected to be run?

X. Are the necessities of the poor among you properly inspected andrelieved; and is good care taken of the education of their offspring?

XI. Have any meetings been settled, discontinued, or united since lastyear?

XII. Are there any Friends prisoners for our testimonies; and if any onehath died a prisoner, or been discharged since last year, when and how?

XIII. Is early care taken to admonish such as appear inclinable to marryin a manner contrary to the rules of our society; and to deal with suchas persist in refusing to take counsel?

XIV. Have you two or more faithful friends, appointed by the monthlymeeting, as overseers in each particular meeting; are the rulesrespecting removals duly observed; and is due care taken, when any thingappears amiss, that the rules of our discipline be timely andimpartially put in practice?

XV. Do you keep a record of the prosecutions and sufferings of yourmembers; is due care taken to register all marriages, births, andburials; are the titles of your meeting houses, burial grounds, &c. Dulypreserved and recorded; and are all legacies and donations properlysecured, and recorded, and duly applied?

These are the Questions, which the society expect should be publiclyasked and answered in their quarterly courts or meetings. Some of theseare to be answered in one quarterly meeting, and [26] others in another;and all of them in the course of the year. 

[Footnote 26: The Quakers consider the punctual attendance of theirreligious meetings, the preservation of love among them, and the care ofthe poor, of such particular importance, that they require the first, third, and tenth to be answered every quarter. ]

The clerk of the quarterly meeting, when they come to this part of thebusiness, reads the first of the appointed queries to the memberspresent, and is then silent. Soon after this a deputy from one of themonthly meetings comes forward, and producing the written documents, oranswers to the queries, all of which were prepared at the meeting wherehe was chosen, reads that document, which contains a reply to the firstquery in behalf of the meeting he represents. A deputy from a secondmonthly meeting then comes forward, and produces his written documentsalso, and answers the same query in behalf of his own meeting in thesame manner. A deputy from a third where there are more than twomeetings then produces his documents in his turn, and replies to italso, and this mode is observed, till all the deputies from each of themonthly meetings in the county have answered the first query. 

When the first query has been thus fully answered, silence is observedthrough the whole court. Members present have now an opportunity ofmaking any observations they may think proper. If it should appear byany of the answers to the first query, that there is any departure fromprinciples on the subject it contains in any of the monthly meetingswhich the deputies represent, it is noticed by any one present. Theobservations made by one frequently give rise to observations fromanother. Advice is sometimes ordered to be given, adapted to the natureof this departure from principles; and this advice is occasionallycirculated, through the medium of the different monthly meetings, to theparticular congregation, where the deviation has taken place. 

When the first query has been thus read by the clerk, and answered bythe deputies, and when observations have been made upon it, andinstructions given as now described, a second query is read audibly, andthe same process takes place, and similar observations are sometimesmade, and instructions given. 

In the same manner a third query is read by the clerk, and answered byall the deputies, and observed upon by the meeting at large; and so on afourth, and a fifth, till all the queries, set apart for the day areanswered. 

It may be proper now to observe, that while the men in their ownmeeting-house are thus transacting the quarterly business forthemselves, the women, in a different apartment or meeting-house, areconducting it also for their own sex. They read, answer, and observeupon, the queries in the same manner. When they nave settled their ownbusiness, they send one or two of their members, as they did in the caseof the monthly meeting, to the apartment of the men, to know if theyhave any thing to communicate to them. When the business is finished inboth meetings, they break up, and prepare for their respective homes. 

CHAP. IV. 

_Great yearly court or meeting--constitution of this meeting--one placeonly of meeting fixed upon for the whole kingdom--this themetropolis--deputies appointed to it from the quarterlymeetings--business transacted at this meeting--matters decided, not bythe influence of numbers, but by the weight of religious character--nohead or chairman of this meeting--character of this discipline orgovernment of the Quakers--the laws, relating to it better obeyed thanthose under any other discipline or government--reasons of thisobedience_. 

In the order, in which I have hitherto mentioned the meetings for thediscipline of the Quakers, we have seen them rising by regular ascent, both in importance and power. We have seen each in due progressioncomprizing the actions of a greater population than the foregoing, andfor a greater period of time. I come now to the yearly meeting, which ispossessed of a higher and wider jurisdiction than any that have been yetdescribed. This meeting does not take cognizance of the conduct ofparticular or of monthly meetings, but, at one general view, of thestate and conduct of the members of each quarterly meeting, in order toform a judgment of the general state of the society for the wholekingdom. 

We have seen, on a former occasion, the Quakers with their severaldeputies repairing to different places in a county; and we have seenthem lately with their deputies again repairing to one great town in thedifferent counties at large. We are now to see them repairing to themetropolis of the kingdom. 

As deputies were chosen by each monthly meeting to represent it in thequarterly meeting, so the quarterly meetings choose deputies torepresent them in the yearly meeting. These deputies are commissioned tobe the bearers of certain documents to London, which contain answers inwriting to a [27]number of the queries mentioned in the last chapter. These answers are made up from the answers received by the severalquarterly meetings from their respective monthly meetings. Besides thesethey are to carry with them other documents, among which are accounts ofsufferings in consequence of a refusal of military service, and of thepayment of the demands of the church. 

[Footnote 27: Viz. Numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12]

The deputies who are now generally four in number for each quarterlymeeting, that is, four of each sex (except for the quarterly meetings ofYork and London, the former of which generally sends eight men and the[28] latter twelve, and each of them the like number of females) havingreceived their different documents, set forward on their journey. Besides these many members of the society repair to the metropolis. Thedistance of three or four hundred miles forms no impediment to thejourney. A man cannot travel at this time, but he sees the Quakers inmotion from all parts, shaping their course to London, there toexercise, as will appear shortly, the power of deputies, judges, andlegislators in turn, and to investigate and settle the affairs of thesociety for the preceding year. 

[Footnote 28: The quarterly meeting of London includes Middlesex. ]

It may not be amiss to mention a circumstance, which has notunfrequently occurred upon these occasions. A Quaker in lowcircumstances, but of unblemished life, has been occasionally chosen asone of the deputies to the metropolis even for a county, where theQuaker-population has been considered to be rich. This deputy hasscarcely been able, on account of the low state of his finances, toaccomplish his journey, and has been known to travel on foot fromdistant parts. I mention this circumstance to shew that the society inits choice of representatives, shews no respect to persons, but that itpays, even in the persons of the poor, the respect that is due tovirtue. 

The day of the yearly meeting at length arrives. Whole days are nowdevoted to business, for which various committees are obliged to beappointed. The men, as before, retire to a meeting-house allotted tothem, to settle the business for the men and the society at large, andthe women retire to another, to settle that, which belongs to their ownsex. There are nevertheless, at intervals, meetings for worship at theseveral meeting houses in the metropolis. 

One great part of the business of the yearly meeting is to know thestate of the society in all its branches of discipline for the precedingyear. This is known by hearing the answers brought to the queries fromthe several quarterly meetings, which are audibly read by the clerk orhis assistant, and are taken in rotation alphabetically. If anydeficiency in the discipline should appear by means of these documents, in any of the quarterly meetings, remarks follow on the part of theauditory, and written advices are ordered to be sent, if it shouldappear necessary, which are either of a general nature, or particularlydirected to those where the deficiency has been observed. 

Another part of the business of the yearly meeting is to ascertain theamount of the money, called "FRIENDS SUFFERINGS, " that is of the money, or the value of the goods, that have been taken from the Quakers for[29] tithes and church dues; for the society are principled against themaintenance of any religious ministry, and of course cannotconscientiously pay toward the support of the established church. Inconsequence of their refusal of payment in the latter case, their goodsare seized by a law-process, and sold to the best bidder. Those, whohave the charge of these executions, behave differently. Some wantonlytake such goods, as will not sell for a quarter of their value, andothers much more than is necessary, and others again kindly selectthose, which in the sale will be attended with the least loss. Thisamount, arising from this confiscation of their property, is easilyascertained from the written answers of the deputies. The sum for eachcounty is observed, and noted down. The different sums are then addedtogether, and the amount for the whole kingdom within the year isdiscovered. 

[Footnote 29: Distraints or imprisonment for refusing to serve in themilitia are included also under the head "sufferings. "]

In speaking of tithes and church-dues I must correct an error, that isprevalent. It is usually understood, when Quakers suffer on theseaccounts, that their losses are made up by the society at large. Nothingcan be more false than this idea. Were their losses made up on suchoccasions, there would be no suffering. The fact is, that whatever aperson loses in this way is his own total loss; nor is it ever refunded, though, in consequence of expensive prosecutions at law, it has amountedto the whole of the property of those, who have refused the payment ofthese demands. If a man were to come to poverty on this account, hewould undoubtedly be supported, but he would only be supported asbelonging to the poor of the society. 

Among the subjects, introduced at this meeting, may be that of any newregulations for the government of the society. The Quakers are not soblindly attached to antiquity, as to keep to customs, merely becausethey are of an ancient date. But they are ready, on conviction, tochange, alter, and improve. When, however, such regulations oralterations are proposed, they must come not through the medium of anindividual, but through the medium of one of the quarterly meetings. 

There is also a variety of other business at the yearly meeting. Reportsare received and considered on the subject of Ackworth school, which wasmentioned in a former part of the work as a public seminary of thesociety. 

Letters are also read from the branches of the society in foreign parts, and answers prepared to them. 

Appeals also are heard in various instances, and determined in thiscourt. 

I may mention here two circumstances, that are worthy of notice on theseoccasions. 

It may be observed that whether such business as that, which I have justdetailed or any of any other sort comes before the yearly meeting atlarge, it is decided, not by the influence of numbers, but by the weightof religious character. As most subjects afford cause for a differenceof opinion, so the Quakers at this meeting are found taking theirdifferent sides of the argument, as they believe it right. Thosehowever, who are in opposition to any measure, if they perceive by theturn the debate takes, either that they are going against the generalwill, or that they are opposing the sentiments of members of high moralreputation in the society, give way. And so far do the Quakers carrytheir condescension on these occasions, that if a few ancient andrespectable individuals seem to be dissatisfied with any measure thatmay have been proposed, though otherwise respectably supported, themeasure is frequently postponed, out of tenderness to the feelings ofsuch members, and from a desire of gaining them in time by forbearance. But, in whatever way the question before them is settled, no division isever called for. No counting of numbers is allowed. No protest issuffered to be entered. In such a case there can be no ostensible leaderof any party; no ostensible minority or majority. The Quakers are ofopinion that such things, if allowed, would be inconsistent with theirprofession. They would lead also to broils and divisions, and ultimatelyto the detriment of the society. Every measure therefore is settled bythe Quakers at this meeting in the way I have mentioned, in brotherlylove, and as the name of the society signifies, as Friends. 

The other remarkable circumstance is, that there is no ostensiblepresident or [30] head of this great assembly, nor any ostensiblepresident or head of any one of its committees; and yet the business ofthe society is conducted in as orderly a manner, as it is possible to beamong any body of men, where the number is so great, and where everyindividual has a right to speak. 

[Footnote 30: Christ is supposed by the Quakers to be the head, underwhose guidance all their deliberations ought to take place. ]

The state of the society having, by this time been ascertained, both inthe meetings of the women and of the men, from the written answers ofthe different deputies, and from the reports of different committees, and the [31]other business of the meeting having been nearly finished, acommittee, which had been previously chosen, meet to draw up a publicletter. 

[Footnote 31: This may relate to the printing of books, to testimoniesconcerning deceased ministers, addresses to the king, if thoughtnecessary, and the like. ]

This letter usually comprehends three subjects: first, the state of thesociety, in which the sufferings for tithes and other demands of thechurch are included. This state, in all its different branches, thecommittee ascertain by inspecting the answers, as brought by thedeputies before mentioned. 

A second subject, comprehended in the letter, is advice to the societyfor the regulation of their moral and civil conduct. This advice issuggested partly from the same written answers, and partly by thecircumstances of the times. Are there, for instance, any vicious customscreeping into the society, or any new dispositions among its memberscontrary to the Quaker principles? The answers brought by the deputiesshew it, and advice is contained in the letter adapted to the case. Arethe times, seasons of difficulty and embarrassment in the commercialworld? Is the aspect of the political horizon gloomy, and does it appearbig with convulsions? New admonition and, advices follow. 

A third subject, comprehended in the letter, and which I believe sincethe year 1787 has frequently formed a standing article in it, is theslave-trade. The Quakers consider this trade as so extensively big withmisery to their fellow creatures, that their members ought to have adeep and awful feeling, and a religious care and concern about it. Thisand occasionally other subjects having been duly weighed by thecommittee, they begin to compose the letter. 

When the letter is ready, it is brought into the public meeting, and thewhole of it, without interruption, is first read audibly. It is thenread over again, and canvassed, sentence by sentence. Every sentence, nay every word, is liable to alteration; for any one may make hisremarks, and nothing can stand but by the sense of the meeting. Whenfinally settled and approved, it is printed and dispersed among themembers throughout the nation. This letter may be considered asinforming the society of certain matters, that occurred in the precedingyear, and as conveying to them admonitions on various subjects. Thisletter is emphatically stiled "the General Epistle. " The yearlymeeting, having now lasted about ten days, is dissolved after a solemnpause, and the different deputies are at liberty to return home. 

This important institution of the yearly meeting brings with it, onevery return, its pains and pleasures. To persons of maturer years, whosit at this time on committee after committee, and have various officesto perform, it is certainly an aniversary of care and anxiety, fatigueand trouble. But it affords them, on the other hand, occasions ofinnocent delight. Some, educated in the same school, and others, unitedby the ties of blood and youthful friendship, but separated from oneanother by following in distant situations the various concerns of life, meet together in the intervals of the disciplinary business, and feel, in the warm recognition of their ancient intercourse, a pleasure, whichmight have been delayed for years, but for the intervention of thisoccasion. To the youth it affords an opportunity, amidst this concourseof members, of seeing those who are reputed to be of the most exemplarycharacter in the society, and whom they would not have had the samechance of seeing at any other time. They are introduced also at thisseason to their relations and family friends. They visit about, and formnew connections in the society, and are permitted the enjoyment of otherreasonable pleasures. 

Such is the organization of the discipline or government of theQuakers. Nor may it improperly be called a government, when we considerthat, besides all matters relating to the church, it takes cognizance ofthe actions of Quakers to Quakers, and of these to theirfellow-citizens, and of these again to the state; in fact of all actionsof Quakers, if immoral in the eye of the society, us soon at they weknown. It gives out its prohibitions. It marks its crimes. It imposesoffices on its subjects. It culls them to disciplinary duties. [32]Thisgovernment however, notwithstanding its power, has, as I observedbefore, no president or head, either permanent or temporary. There is nofirst man through the whole society. Neither has it any badge of office, or mace, or constables staff or sword. It may be observed also, that ithas no office of emolument, by which its hands can be strengthened, neither minister, elder, [33]clerk, overseer, nor deputy, being paid;and yet its administration is firmly conducted, and its laws betterobeyed, than laws by persons, under any other denomination orgovernment. The constant assemblage of the Quakers at their places ofworship, and their unwearied attendances at the monthly and quarterlymeetings, which they must often frequent at a great distance, to theirown personal inconvenience, and to the hindrance of their worldlyconcerns, must be admitted, in part, as proofs of the last remark. Butwhen we consider them as a distinct people, differing in their manner ofspeech and in their dress and customs from others, rebelling againstfashion and the fashionable world, and likely therefore to become ratherthe objects of ridicule than of praise; when we consider these things, and their steady and rigid perseverance in the peculiar rules andcustoms of the society, we cannot but consider their obedience to theirown discipline, which makes a point of the observance of thesesingularities, as extraordinary. 

[Footnote 32: The government or discipline is considered as atheocracy. ]

[Footnote 33: The clerk, who keeps the records of the society in London, is the only person who has a salary. ]

This singular obedience, however, to the laws of the society may beaccounted for on three principles. In the first place in no society isthere so much vigilance over the conduct of its members, as in that ofthe Quakers, as this history of their discipline must have alreadymanifested. This vigilance of course, cannot miss of its effect. But asecond cause is the following. The Quaker-laws and regulations are notmade by any one person, nor by any number even of deputies. They aremade by themselves, that is by the society in yearly meeting assembled. If a bad law, or the repeal of a good one, be proposed, every onepresent, without distinction, has a right to speak against the motion. The proposition cannot pass against the sense of the meeting. If personsare not present, it is their own fault. Thus it happens that every law, passed at the yearly meeting, may be considered, in some measure, as thelaw of every Quaker's own will, and people are much more likely tofollow regulations made by their own consent, than those which are madeagainst it. This therefore has unquestionably an operation as a secondcause. A third may be traced in the peculiar sentiments, which theQuakers hold as a religious body. They believe that many of theirmembers, when they deliver themselves publicly on any subject at theyearly meeting, are influenced by the dictates of the pure principle, orby the spirit of truth. Hence the laws of the society, which areconsidered to be the result of such influences, have with them thesanction of spiritual authority. They pay them therefore a greaterdeference on this account, than they would to laws, which they conceiveto have been the production of the mere imagination, or will, of man. 

CHAP. V. 

_Disowning--foundation of the right of disowning--disowning no slightpunishment--wherein the hardship or suffering consists_. 

I shall conclude the discipline of the Quakers by making a few remarkson the subject of disowning. 

The Quakers conceive they have a right to excommunicate or disown;because persons, entering into any society, have a right to make theirown reasonable rules of membership, and so early as the year 1663, thispractice had been adopted by George Fox, and those who were in religiousunion with him. Those, who are born in the society, are bound of course, to abide by these rules, while they continue to be the rules of thegeneral will, or to leave it. Those who come into it by convincement, are bound to follow them, or not to sue for admission into membership. This right of disowning, which arises from the reasonableness of thething, the Quakers consider to have been pointed out and established bythe author of the christian religion, who determined that [34]if adisorderly person, after having received repeated admonitions, should stillcontinue disorderly, he should be considered as an alien by the church. 

[Footnote 34: Matt. 18. V. 17. ]

The observations, which I shall make on the subject of disowning, willbe wholly confined to it as it must operate as a source of suffering tothose, who are sentenced to undergo it. People are apt to say, "where isthe hardship of being disowned? a man, though disowned by the Quakers, may still go to their meetings for worship, or he may worship if hechooses, with other dissenters, or with those of the church of England, for the doors of all places of worship are open to those, who desire toenter them. " I shall state therefore in what this hardship consists, andI should have done it sooner, but that I could never have made it sowell understood as after an explanation had been given of the disciplineof the Quakers, or as in the present place. 

There is no doubt that a person, who is disowned, will be differentlyaffected by different considerations. Something will depend upon thecircumstance, whether he considers himself as disowned for a moral or apolitical offence. Something, again, whether he has been in the habit ofattending the meetings for discipline, and what estimation he may putupon these. 

But whether he has been regular or not in these attendances, it iscertain that he has a power and a consequence, while he remains in hisown society, which he loses when he leaves it, or when he becomes amember of the world. The reader will have already observed, that in nosociety is a man, if I may use the expression, so much of a man, as inthat of the Quakers, or in no society is there such an equality of rankand privileges. A Quaker is called, as we have seen, to the exercise ofimportant and honourable functions. 

He sits in his monthly meeting, as it were in council, with the rest ofthe members. He sees all equal but he sees none superior, to himself. Hemay give his advice on any question. He may propose new matter. He mayargue and reply. In the quarterly meetings he is called to the exerciseof the same privileges, but on a larger scale. And at the yearly meetinghe may, if he pleases, unite in his own person the offices of council, judge, and legislator. But when he leaves the society, and goes out intothe world, he has no such station or power. He sees there every bodyequal to himself in privileges, and thousands above him. It is in thisloss of his former consequence that he must feel a punishment in havingbeen disowned. For he can never be to his own feelings what he wasbefore. It is almost impossible that he should not feel a diminution ofhis dignity and importance as a man. 

Neither can he restore himself to these privileges by going to a distantpart of the kingdom and residing among quakers there, on a suppositionthat his disownment may be concealed. For a Quaker, going to a new abodeamong Quakers, must carry with him a certificate of his conduct from thelast monthly meeting which he left, or he cannot be received as amember. 

But besides losing these privileges, which confer consequence upon him, he looses others of another kind. He cannot marry in the society. Hisaffirmation will be no longer taken instead of his oath. If a poor man, he is no longer exempt from the militia, if drawn by submitting to threemonths imprisonment; nor is he entitled to that comfortable maintenance, in case of necessity, which the society provide for their own poor. 

To these considerations it may not perhaps be superfluous to add, thatif he continues to mix with the members of his own society, he willoccasionally find circumstances arising, which will remind him of hisformer state: and if he transfers his friendship to others, he will feelawkward and uneasy, and out of his element, till he has made his temper, his opinions, and his manners, harmonize with those of his newassociates of the world. 

PECULIAR CUSTOMS OF THE QUAKERS. 

CHAP. I. SECT. I. 

_Dress--Quakers distinguished by their dress from others--greatextravagance in dress in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries--thisextravagance had reached the clergy--but religious individuals kept totheir antient dresses--the dress which the men of this description worein those days--dress of the women of this description also--George Foxand the Quakers springing out of these, carried their plain habits withthem into their new society. _

I have now explained, in a very ample manner, the moral education anddiscipline of the Quakers. I shall proceed to the explanation of suchcustoms, as seem peculiar to them as a society of christians. 

The dress of the Quakers is the first custom of this nature, that Ipurpose to notice. They stand distinguished be means of it from allother religious bodies The men wear neither lace, frills, ruffles, swords, nor any of the ornaments used by the fashionable world. Thewomen wear neither lace, flounces, lappets, rings, bracelets, necklaces, ear-rings, nor any thing belonging to this class. Both sexes are alsoparticular in the choice of the colour of their clothes. All gay colourssuch as red, blue, green, and yellow, are exploded. Dressing in thismanner, a Quaker is known by his apparel through the whole kingdom. Thisis not the case with any other individuals of the island, except theclergy; and these, in consequence of the black garments worn by personson account of the death of their relations, are not always distinguishedfrom others. 

I know of no custom among the Quakers, which has more excited thecuriosity of the world, than this of their dress, and none, in whichthey have been more mistaken in their conjectures concerning it. 

[35]In the early times of the English History, dress had been frequentlyrestricted by the government. --Persons of a certain rank and fortunewere permitted to wear only cloathing of a certain kind. But theserestrictions and distinctions were gradually broken down, and people, asthey were able and willing, launched out into unlimited extravagance intheir dress. The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and down from thenceto the time when the Quakers first appeared, were periods, particularlynoticed for prodigality in the use of apparel, there was nothing tooexpensive or too preposterous to be worn. Our ancestors also, to use anancient quotation, "were never constant to one colour or fashion twomonths to an end. " We can have no idea by the present generation, of thefolly in such respects, of these early ages. But these follies were notconfined to the laiety. Affectation of parade, and gaudy cloathing, wereadmitted among many of the clergy, who incurred the severest invectivesof the poets on that account. The ploughman, in Chaucer's CanterburyTales, is full upon this point. He gives us the following description ofa Priest

 "That hye on horse wylleth to ride, In glytter ande gold of great araye, 'I painted and pertred all in pryde, No common Knyght may go so gaye; Chaunge of clothyng every daye, With golden gyrdles great and small, As boysterous as is here at baye; All suche falshed mote nede fell. "

[Footnote 35: See Strut's Antiquities. ]

To this he adds, that many of them had more than one or two mitres, embellished with pearls, like the head of a queen, and a staff of goldset with jewels, as heavy as lead. He then speaks of their appearing outof doors with broad bucklers and long swords, or with baldrics abouttheir necks, instead of stoles, to which their basellards were attached. 

 "Bucklers brode and sweardes longe, Baudryke with baselards kene. "

He then accuses them with wearing gay gowns of scarlet and greencolours, ornamented with cut-work, and for the long pykes upon theirshoes. 

But so late as the year 1652 we have the following anecdote of thewhimsical dress of a clergyman. John Owen, Dean of Christ church, andVice-Chancellor of Oxford, is represented an wearing a lawn-band, ashaving his hair powdered and his hat curiously cocked. He is describedalso as wearing Spanish leather-boots with lawn-tops, and snake-boneband-strings with large tassels, and a large set of ribbands pointed athis knees with points or tags at the end. And much about the same time, when Charles the second was at Newmarket, Nathaniel Vincent, doctor ofdivinity, fellow of Clare-hall, and chaplain in ordinary to his majesty, preached before him. But the king was so displeased with the foppery ofthis preacher's, dress, that he commanded the duke of Monmouth, thenchancellor of the university, to cause the statutes concerning decencyof apparel among the clergy to be put into execution, which wasaccordingly done. These instances are sufficient to shew, that the tastefor preposterous and extravagant dress must have operated like acontagion in those times, or the clergy would scarcely have dressedthemselves in this ridiculous and censurable manner. 

But although this extravagance was found among many orders of society atthe time of the appearance of George Fox, yet many individuals had settheir faces against the fashions of the world. These consistedprincipally of religious people of different denominations, most of whomwere in the middle classes of life. Such persons were found in plain andsimple habits notwithstanding the contagion of the example of theirsuperiors in rank. The men of this description generally wore plainround hats with common crowns. They had discarded the sugar-loaf hat, and the hat turned up with a silver clasp on one side, as well as allornaments belonging to it, such as pictures, feathers, and bands ofvarious colours. They had adopted a plain suit of clothes. They worecloaks, when necessary, over these. But both the clothes and the cloakswere of the same colour. The colour of each of them was either drab orgrey. Other people who followed the fashions, wore white, red, green, yellow, violet, scarlet, and other colours, which were expensive, because they were principally dyed in foreign parts. The drab consistedof the white wool undyed, and the grey of the white wool mixed with theblack, which was undyed also. These colours were then the colours of theclothes, because they were the least expensive, of the peasants ofEngland, as they are now of those of Portugal and Spain. They haddiscarded also, all ornaments, such as of lace, or bunches of ribbandsat the knees, and their buttons were generally of alchymy, as thiscomposition was then termed, or of the same colour as their clothes. 

The grave and religious women also, like the men, had avoided thefashions of their times. These had adopted the cap, and the black hoodfor their headdress. The black hood had been long the distinguishingmark of a grave matron. All prostitutes, so early as Edward the third, had been forbidden to wear it. In after-times it was celebrated by theepithet of venerable by the poets, and had been introduced by paintersas the representative of virtue. When fashionable women had discardedit, which was the case in George Fox's time, the more sober, on accountof these ancient marks of its sanctity, had retained it, and it was thencommon among them. With respect to the hair of grave and sober women Inthose days, it was worn plain, and covered occasionally by a plain hator bonnet. They had avoided by this choice those preposteroushead-dresses and bonnets, which none but those, who have seen paintingsof them, could believe ever to have been worn. They admitted none of thelarge ruffs, that were then in use, but chose the plain handkerchief fortheir necks, differing from those of others, which had rich point, andcurious lace. They rejected the crimson sattin doublet with black velvetskirts, and contented themselves with a plain gown, generally of stuff, and of a drab, or grey, or buff, or buffin colour, as it was called, andfaced with buckram. These colours, as I observed before, were thecolours worn by country people; and were not expensive, because theywere not dyed. To this gown was added a green apron. Green aprons hadbeen long worn in England, yet, at the time I allude to, they were outof fashion, so as to be ridiculed by the gay. But old fashioned peoplestill retained them. Thus an idea of gravity was connected with them;and therefore religious and steady women adopted them, as the grave andsober garments of ancient times. 

It may now be observed that from these religious persons, habited inthis manner, in opposition to the fashions of the world, the primitiveQuakers generally sprung. George Fox himself wore the plain grey coatthat has been noticed, with alchymy buttons, and a plain leather girdleabout his waist. When the Quakers therefore first met in religiousunion, they met in these simple clothes. They made no alteration intheir dress on account of their new religion. They prescribed no form orcolour as distinguishing marks of their sect, but they carried with themthe plain habits of their ancestors into the new society, as the habitsof the grave and sober people of their own times. 

SECT. II. 

_But though George Fox introduced no new dress into the society, he wasnot indifferent on the subject--he recommended simplicity andplainness--and declaimed against the fashions of the times--supported byBarclay and Penn--these explained the objects of dress--the influence ofthese explanations--dress at length incorporated into thediscipline--but no standard fixed either of shape or colour--theobjects of dress only recognized, and simplicity recommended--a newEra--great variety allowable by the discipline--Quakers have deviatedless from the dress of their ancestors than other people. _

Though George Fox never introduced any new or particular garments, whenhe formed the society, as models worthy of the imitation of those whojoined him, yet, as a religious man, he was not indifferent upon thesubject of dress. Nor could he, as a reformer, see those extravagantfashions, which I have shewn to have existed in his time, withoutpublicly noticing them. We find him accordingly recommending to hisfollowers simplicity and plainness of apparel, and bearing his testimonyagainst the preposterous and fluctuating apparel of the world. 

In the various papers, which he wrote or gave forth upon this subject, he bid it down as a position, that all ornaments, superfluities, andunreasonable changes in dress, manifested an earthly or worldly spirit. He laid it down again, that such things, being adopted principally forthe lust of the eye, were productive of vanity and pride, and that, inproportion as men paid attention to these outward decorations andchanges, they suffered some loss in the value and dignity of theirminds. He considered also all such decorations and changes, as contraryboth to the letter and the spirit of the scriptures. Isaiah, one of thegreatest prophets under the law, had severely reproved the daughters ofIsrael on account of their tinkling ornaments, cauls, round tires, chains, bracelets, rings, and ear-rings. St. Paul also and St. Peter hadboth of them cautioned the women of their own times, to adorn themselvesin modest apparel, and not with broidered hair, or gold, or pearls, orcostly array. And the former had spoken to both sexes indiscriminatelynot to conform to the world, in which latter expression he evidentlyincluded all those customs of the world, of whatsoever nature, that werein any manner injurious to the morality of the minds of those whofollowed them. 

By the publication of these sentiments, George Fox shewed to the world, that it was his opinion, that religion, though it prescribed noparticular form of apparel, was not indifferent as to the generalsubject of dress. These sentiments became the sentiments of hisfollowers. But the society was coming fast into a new situation. Whenthe members of it first met in union, they consisted of grown uppersons; of such, as had had their minds spiritually exercised, andtheir judgments convinced in religious matters; of such in fact as hadbeen Quakers in spirit, before they had become Quakers by name. Alladmonitions therefore on the subject of dress were unnecessary for suchpersons. But many of those, who had joined the society, had brought withthem children into it, and from the marriages of others, children weredaily springing up. To the latter, in a profligate age, where thefashions were still raging from without, and making an inroad upon theminds and morals of individuals, some cautions were necessary for thepreservation of their innocence in such a storm. For these were thereverse of their parents. Young, in point of age, they were Quakers byname, before they could become Quakers in spirit. Robert Barclaytherefore, and William Penn, kept alive the subject of dress, whichGeorge Fox had been the first to notice in the society. They followedhim on his scriptural ground. They repeated the arguments, thatextravagant dress manifested an earthly spirit, and that it wasproductive of vanity and pride. But they strengthened the case by addingarguments of their own. Among these I may notice, that they consideredwhat were the objects of dress. They reduced these to two, to decency, and comfort, in which latter idea was included protection from thevaried inclemencies of the weather. Every thing therefore beyond thesethey considered as superfluous. Of course all ornaments would becomecensurable, and all unreasonable changes indefensible, upon such asystem. 

These discussions, however, on this subject never occasioned the moreancient Quakers to make any alteration in their dress, for theycontinued as when they had come into the society, to be a plain people. But they occasioned parents to be more vigilant over their children inthis respect, and they taught the society to look upon dress, as asubject connected with the christian religion, in any case, where itcould become injurious to the morality of the mind. In process of timetherefore as the fashions continued to spread, and the youth of thesociety began to come under their dominion, the Quakers incorporateddress among other subjects of their discipline. Hence no member, afterthis period, could dress himself preposterously, or follow the fleetingfashions of the world, without coming under the authority of friendlyand wholesome admonition. Hence an annual inquiry began to be made, ifparents brought up their children to dress consistently with theirchristian profession. The society, however, recommended only simplicityand plainness to be attended to on this occasion. They prescribed nostandard, no form, no colour, for the apparel of their members. Theyacknowledged the two great objects of decency and comfort, and lefttheir members to clothe themselves consistently with these, as it wasagreeable to their convenience or their disposition. 

A new æra commenced from this period. Persons already in the society, continued of course in their ancient dresses: if others had come into itby convincement, who had led gay lives, they laid aside their gaudygarments, and took those that were more plain. And the children of both, from this time, began to be habited from their youth as their parentswere. 

But though the Quakers had thus brought apparel under the disciplinarycognizance of the society, yet the dress of individuals was not alwaysalike, nor did it continue always one and the same even with theprimitive Quakers. Nor has it continued one and the same with theirdescendants. For decency and comfort having been declared to be the trueand only objects of dress, such a latitude was given, as to admit ofgreat variety in apparel. Hence if we were to see a groupe of modernQuakers before us, we should probably not find any two of them dressedalike. Health, we all know, may require alteration in dress. Simplicitymay suggest others. Convenience again may point out others; and yet allthese various alterations may be consistent with the objects beforespecified. And here it may be observed that the society, during itsexistence for a century and a half, has without doubt, in some degree, imperceptibly followed the world, though not in its fashions, yet in itsimprovements of cloathing. 

It must be obvious again, that some people are of a grave, and thatothers are of a lively disposition, and that these will probably neverdress alike. Other members again, but particularly the rich, have alarger intercourse than the rest of them, or mix more with the world. These again will probably dress a little differently from others, andyet, regarding the two great objects of dress, their cloathing may comewithin the limits which these allow. Indeed if there be any, whoseapparel would be thought exceptionable by the society, these would befound among the rich. Money, in all societies, generally takes theliberty of introducing exceptions. Nothing, however is more true, thanthat, even among the richest of the Quakers, there is frequently as muchplainness and simplicity in their outward dress, as among the poor; andwhere the exceptions exist, they are seldom carried to an extravagant, and never to a preposterous extent. 

From this account it will be seen, that the ideas of the world areerroneous on the subject of the dress of the Quakers; for it has alwaysbeen imagined, that, when the early Quakers first met in religiousunion, they met to deliberate and fix upon some standard, which shouldoperate as a political institution, by which the members should bedistinguished by their apparel from the rest of the world. The wholehistory, however, of the shape and colour of the garments of the Quakersis, as has been related, namely, that the primitive Quakers dressed likethe sober, steady, and religious people of the age, in which the societysprung up, and that their descendants have departed less in a course oftime, than others, from the dress of their ancestors. The mens hats arenearly the same now, except that they have stays and loops, and many oftheir clothes are nearly of the same shape and colour, as in the days ofGeorge Fox. The dress of the women also is nearly similar. The blackhoods indeed have gone, in a certain degree, out of use. But many ofsuch women, as are ministers and elders, and indeed many others of ageand gravity of manners, still retain them. The green apron also has beennearly, if not wholly laid aside. There was here and there an ancientwoman, who used it within the last ten years, but I am told that thelast of these died lately. No other reasons can be given, than thosewhich have been assigned, why Quaker-women should have been found in theuse of a colour, which is so unlike any other which they now use intheir dress. Upon the whole, if the females were still to retain the useof the black hood and the green apron, and the men were to discard thestays and loops for their hats, we should find that persons of bothsexes in the society, but particularly such as are antiquated, or as maybe deemed old fashioned in it, would approach very near to the first orprimitive Quakers in their appearance, both as to the sort and to theshape, and to the colour of their clothes. Thus has George Fox, by meansof the advice he gave upon this subject, and the general disciplinewhich he introduced into the society, kept up for a hundred and fiftyyears, against the powerful attacks of the varying fashions of theworld, one steady, and uniform, external appearance among hisdescendants; an event, which neither the clergy by means of theirsermons, nor other writers, whether grave or gay, were able toaccomplish during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and which noneof their successors have been able to accomplish from that time to thepresent. 

SECT III. 

_The world usually make objections to the Quaker-dress--the charge isthat there is a preciseness in it which is equivalent to the worshippingof forms--the truth of this charge not to be ascertained but by aknowledge of the heart--but outward facts mate against it-such as theorigin of the Quaker-dress--and the Quaker-doctrine on dress--doctrineof christianity on this subject--opinion of the early christians uponit--reputed advantages of the Quaker-dress. _

I should have been glad to have dismissed the subject of theQuaker-dress in the last section, but so many objections are usuallymade against it, that I thought it right to stop for a while to considerthem in the present place. Indeed, if I were to choose a subject, uponwhich the world had been more than ordinarily severe on the Quakers, Ishould select that of their dress. Almost every body has something tosay upon this point. And as in almost all cases, where arguments arenumerous, many of them are generally frivolous, so it has happened inthis also. There is one, however, which it is impossible not to noticeupon this subject. 

The Quakers, it is confessed by their adversaries, are not chargeablewith the same sort of pride and vanity, which attach to the charactersof other people, who dress in a gay manner, and who follow the fashionsof the world, but it is contended, on the other hand, that they arejustly chargeable with a preciseness, that is disgusting, in the littleparticularities of their cloathing. This precise attention toparticularities is considered as little better than the worshipping oflifeless forms, and is usually called by the world the idolatry of theQuaker-dress. 

This charge, if it were true, would be serious indeed. It would beserious, because it would take away from the religion of the Quakers oneof its greatest and best characters. For how could any people bespiritually minded, who were the worshippers of lifeless forms? It wouldbe serious again, because it would shew their religion, like the box ofPandora, to be pregnant with evils within itself. For people, who placereligion in particular forms, must unavoidably become superstitious. Itwould be serious again, because if parents were to carry such notionsinto their families, they would produce mischief. The young would bedissatisfied, if forced to cultivate particularities, for which they seeno just or substantial reason. Dissentions would arise among them. Theirmorality too would be confounded, if they were to see these minutiaeidolized at home, but disregarded by persons of known religiouscharacter in the world. Add to which, that they might adopt erroneousnotions of religion. For they might be induced to lay too much stressupon the payment of the anise and cummin, and too little upon theobservance of the weightier matters of the law. 

As the charge therefore is unquestionably a serious one, I shall notallow it to pass without some comments. And in the first place it maybeobserved that, whether this preciseness, which has been imputed to someQuakers, amounts to an idolizing of forms, can never be positivelydetermined, except we had the power of looking into the hearts of those, who have incurred the charge. We may form, however, a reasonableconjecture, whether it does or not by presumptive evidence, taken fromincontrovertible outward facts. 

The first outward fact that presents itself to us, is the fact of theorigin of the Quaker-dress, if the early Quakers, when they met inreligious union, had met to deliberate and fix upon a form or standardof apparel for the society, in vain could any person have expected torepel this charge. But no such standard was ever fixed. The dress of theQuakers has descended from father to son in the way that has beendescribed. There is reason therefore to suppose, that the Quakers as areligious body, have deviated less than others front the primitivehabits of their ancestors, rather from a fear of the effects ofunreasonable changes of dress upon the mind, than from an attachment tolifeless forms. 

The second outward fact, which may be resorted to as furnishing a groundfor reasonable conjecture, is the doctrine of the Quakers upon thissubject. The Quakers profess to follow christianity in all cases, whereits doctrines can be clearly ascertained. I shall state therefore whatchristianity says upon this point. I shall shew that what Quakerism saysis in unison with it. And I shall explain more at large the principle, that has given birth to the discipline of the Quakers relative to theirdress. 

Had christianity approved of the make or colour of any particulargarment, it would have approved of those of its founder and of hisapostles. We do not, however, know, what any of these illustriouspersonages wore. They were probably dressed in the habits of Judeanpeasants, and not with any marked difference from those of the same rankin life. And that they were dressed plainly, we have every reason tobelieve, from the censures, which some of them passed on thesuperfluities of apparel. But christianity has no where recorded thesehabits as a pattern, nor has it prescribed to any man any form or colourfor his clothes. 

But christianity, though it no where places religion in particularforms, is yet not indifferent on the general subject of dress. For inthe first place it discards all ornaments, as appears by the testimoniesof St. Paul and St. Peter before quoted, and this it does evidently onthe ground of morality, lest these, by puffing up the creature, shouldbe made to give birth to the censurable passions of vanity and lust. Inthe second place it forbids all unreasonable changes on the plea ofconformity with the fashions of the world: and it sets its face againstthese also upon moral grounds; because the following of the fashions ofthe world begets a worldly spirit, and because, in proportion as menindulge this spirit, they are found to follow the loose and changeablemorality of the world, instead of the strict and steady morality of thegospel. 

That the early christians understood these to be the doctrines ofchristianity, there can be no doubt. The Presbyters and the Asceticks, I believe, changed the Palluim for the Toga in the infancy of thechristian world; but all other christians were left undistinguished bytheir dress. These were generally clad in the sober manner of their owntimes. They observed a medium between costliness and sordidness. Thatthey had no particular form for their dress beyond that of other gravepeople, we team from Justin Martyr. "They affected nothing fantastic, says he, but, living among Greeks and barbarians, they followed thecustoms of the country, and in clothes, and in diet, and in all otheraffairs of outward life, they shewed the excellent and admirableconstitution of their discipline and conversation. " That they discardedsuperfluities and ornaments we may collect from various authors of thosetimes. Basil reduced the objects of cloathing to two, namely, "Honestyand necessity, " that is, to decency and protection. Tertullian laid itdown as a doctrine that a Christian should not only be chaste, but thathe should appear so outwardly. "The garments which we should wear, saysClemens of Alexandria, should be modest and frugal, and not wrought ofdivers colours, but plain. " Crysastum commends Olympias, a lady of birthand fortune, for having in her garment nothing that was wrought orgaudy. Jerome praises Paula, another lady of quality, for the samereason. We find also that an unreasonable change of cloathing, or achange to please the eye of the world, was held improper. Cyril says, "we should not strive for variety, having clothes for home, and othersfor ostentation abroad. " In short the ancient fathers frequentlycomplained of the abuse of apparel in the ways described. 

Exactly in the same manner, and in no other, have the Quakers consideredthe doctrines of Christianity on the subject of dress. They have neveradopted any particular model either as to form or colour for theirclothes. They have regarded the two objects of decency and comfort. Butthey have allowed of various deviations consistently with these. Theyhave in fact fluctuated in their dress. The English Quaker wore formerlya round hat. He wears it now with stays and loops. But even this fashionis not universal, and seems rather now on the decline. The AmericanQuaker, on the other hand, has generally kept to the round hat. Blackhoods were uniformly worn by the Quaker-women, but the use of these ismuch less than it was, and is still decreasing. The Green aprons alsowere worn by the females, but they are now wholly out of use. But thesechanges could never have taken place, had there been any fixed standardfor the Quaker dress. 

But though the Quakers have no particular model for their clothing, yetthey are not indifferent to dress where it may be morally injurious. They have discarded all superfluities and ornaments, because they maybe hurtful to the mind. They have set their faces also against allunreasonable changes of forms for the same reasons. They have allowedother reasons to weigh with them in the latter case. They have receivedfrom, their ancestors a plain suit of apparel, which has in some littledegree followed the improvements of the world, and they see no goodreason why they should change it; at least they see in the fashions ofthe world none but a censurable reason for a change. And here it may beobserved, that it is not an attachment to forms, but an unreasonablechange or deviation from them, that the Quakers regard. Upon the latteridea it is, that their discipline is in a great measure founded, or, inother words, the Quakers, as a religious body, think it right to watchin their youth any unreasonable deviation from the plain apparel of thesociety. 

This they do first, because any change beyond usefulness must be madeupon the plea of conformity to the fashions of the world. 

Secondly, because any such deviation in their youth is considered toshew, in some measure, a deviation from simplicity of heart. It bespeaksthe beginning of an unstable mind. It shews there must have been someimproper motive for the change. Hence it argues a weakness in thedeviating persons, and points them out as objects to be strengthened bywholesome admonition. 

Thirdly, because changes, made without reasonable motives, would lead, if not watched and checked, to other still greater changes, and becausean uninterrupted succession of such changes would bring the minds oftheir youth under the most imperious despotisms, the despotism offashion; in consequence of which they would cleave to the morality ofthe world instead of the morality of the gospel. 

And fourthly, because in proportion as young persons deviate from theplainness and simplicity of the apparel as worn by the society, theyapproach in appearance to the world; they mix with it, and imbibe itsspirit and admit its customs, and come into a situation which subjectsthem to be disowned. And this is so generally true, that of thosepersons, whom the society has been obliged to disown, the commencementof a long progress in irregularity may often be traced to a deviationfrom the simplicity of their dress. And here it may be observed, that aneffect has been produced by this care concerning dress, so beneficial tothe moral interests of the society, that they have found in it a newreason for new vigilance on this subject. The effect produced is ageneral similarity of outward appearance, in all the members, thoughthere is a difference both in the form and colour of their clothing;and this general appearance is such, as to make a Quaker still known tothe world. The dress therefore of the Quakers, by distinguishing themembers of the society, and making them known as such to the world, makes the world overseers as it were of their moral conduct. And that itoperates in this way, or that it becomes a partial check in favour ofmorality, there can be no question. For a Quaker could not be seeneither at public races, or at cock fightings, or at assemblies, or inpublic houses, but the fact would be noticed as singular, and probablysoon known among his friends. His clothes would betray him. Neithercould be, if at a great distance from home, and if quite out of the eyeand observation of persons of the same religious persuasion, do whatmany others do. For a Quaker knows, that many of the customs of thesociety are known to the world at large, and that a certain conduct isexpected from a person in a Quakers habit. The fear therefore of beingdetected, and at any rate of bringing infamy on his cloth, if I may usethe expression, would operate so as to keep him out of many of thevicious customs of the world. 

From hence it will be obvious that there cannot be any solid foundationfor the charge, which has been made against the Quakers on the subjectof dress. They are found in their present dress, not on the principleof an attachment to any particular form, or because any one form is moresacred than another, but on the principle, that an unreasonabledeviation from any simple and useful clothing is both censurable andhurtful, if made in conformity with the fashions of the world. These twoprinciples, though they may produce, if acted upon, a similar outwardappearance in persons, are yet widely distinct as to their foundation, from one another. The former is the principle of idolatry. The latterthat of religion. If therefore there are persons in the society, whoadopt the former, they will come within the reach of the chargedescribed. But the latter only can be adopted by true Quakers. 

CHAP. II. 

_Quakers are in the use of plain furniture--this usage founded onprinciples, similar to those on dress--this usage general--Quakers haveseldom paintings, prints, or portraits in their houses, as, articles offurniture--reasons for their disuse of such articles. _

As the Quakers are found in the use of garments, differing from thoseof others in their shape and fashion, and in the graveness of theircolour, and in the general plainness of their appearance, so they arefound in the use of plain and frugal furniture in their houses. 

The custom of using plain furniture has not arisen from thecircumstance, that any particular persons in the society, estimable fortheir lives and characters, have set the example in their families, butfrom the, principles of the Quaker-constitution itself. It has arisenfrom principles similar to those, which dictated the continuance of theancient Quaker-dress. The choice of furniture, like the choice ofclothes, is left to be adjudged by the rules of decency and usefulness, but never by the suggestions of shew. The adoption of taste, instead ofutility, in this case, would be considered as a conscious conformitywith the fashions of the world. Splendid furniture also would beconsidered as pernicious as splendid clothes. It would be classed withexternal ornaments, and would be reckoned equally productive of pride, with these. The custom therefore of plainness in the articles ofdomestic use is pressed upon all Quakers: and that the subject may notbe forgotten, it is incorporated in their religious discipline; inconsequence of which, it is held forth to their notice, in a publicmanner, in all the monthly and quarterly meetings of the kingdom, and inall the preparative meetings, at least once in the year. 

It may be admitted as a truth, that the society practice, with fewexceptions, what is considered to be the proper usage on such occasions. The poor, we know, cannot use any but homely-furniture. The middleclashes are universally in such habits. As to the rich, there is adifference in the practice of these. Some, and indeed many of them, useas plain and frugal furniture, as those in moderate circumstances. Others again step beyond the practice of the middle classes, and buywhat is more costly, not with a view of shew, so much as to accommodatetheir furniture to the size and goodness of their houses. In the housesof others again, who have more than ordinary intercourse with the world, we now and then see what is elegant, but seldom what would be consideredto be extravagant furniture. We see no chairs with satin bottoms andgilded frames, no magnificent pier-glasses, no superb chandeliers, nocurtains with extravagant trimmings. At least, in all my intercoursewith the Quakers, I have never observed such things. If there arepersons in the society, who use them, they must be few in number, andthese must be conscious that, by the introduction of such finery[36]into their houses, they are going against the advices annually giventhem in their meetings on this subject, and that they are thereforeviolating the written law, as well as departing from the spirit ofQuakerism. 

[Footnote 36: Turkey carpets are in use, though generally gaudy, onaccount of their wearing better than others. ]

But if these or similar principles are adopted by the society on thissubject, it must be obvious, that in walking through the rooms of theQuakers, we shall look in vain for some articles that are classed amongthe furniture of other people. We shall often be disappointed, forinstance, if we expect to find either paintings or prints in frame. Iseldom remember to have seen above three or four articles of thisdescription in all my intercourse with the Quakers. Some families hadone of these, others a second, and others a third, but none had themall. And in many families neither the one nor the other was to be seen. 

One of the prints, to which I allude, contained a representation of theconclusion of the famous treaty between William Penn and the Indians ofAmerica. This transaction every body knows, afforded, in all itscircumstances, a proof to the world, of the singular honour anduprightness of those ancestors of the Quakers who were concerned in it. The Indians too entertained an opinion no less favourable of theircharacter, for they handed down the memory of the event under such[37]impressive circumstances, that their descendants have a particularlove for the character, and a particular reliance on the word, of aQuaker at the present day. The print alluded to was therefore probablyhung up as the pleasing record of a transaction, so highly honourable tothe principles of the society; where knowledge took no advantage ofignorance, but where she associated herself with justice, that she mightpreserve the balance equal. "This is the only treaty, " says a celebratedwriter, "between the Indians and the Christians, that was never ratifiedby an oath, and was never broken. "

[Footnote 37: The Indians denominated Penn, brother Onas, which meansin their language a pen, and respect the Quakers as his descendants. ]

The second was a print of a slave-ship, published a few years ago, whenthe circumstances of the slave-trade became a subject of nationalinquiry. In this the oppressed Africans are represented, as stowed indifferent parts according to the number transported and to the scale ofthe dimensions of the vessel. This subject could not be indifferent tothose, who had exerted themselves as a body for the annihilation of thisinhuman traffic. The print, however, was not hung up by the Quakers, either as a monument of what they had done themselves, or as a stimulusto farther exertion on the same subject, but, I believe, from the puremotive of exciting benevolence; of exciting the attention of those, whoshould come into their houses, to the case of the injured Africans, andof procuring sympathy in their favour. 

The third contained a plan of the building of Ackworth-school. This washung up as a descriptive view of a public seminary, instituted and keptup by the subscription and care of the society at large. 

But though all the prints, that have been mentioned, were hung up inframes on the motives severally assigned to them, no others were to beseen as their companions. It is in short not the practice[38] of thesociety to decorate their houses in this manner. 

[Footnote 38: There are still individual exceptions. Some Quakers havecome accidentally into possession of printings and engravings in frame, which, being innocent in their subject and their lesson, they would havethought it superstitious to discard. ]

Prints in frames, if hung up promiscuously in a room, would beconsidered as ornamental furniture, or as furniture for shew. They wouldtherefore come under the denomination of superfluities; and theadmission of such, in the way that other people admit them would beconsidered as an adoption of the empty customs or fashions of the world. 

But though the Quakers are not in the practice of hanging up prints inframes, yet there are amateurs among them, who have a number and varietyof prints in their possession. But these appear chiefly in collections, bound together in books, or preserved in book covers, and not in framesas ornamental furniture for their rooms. These amateurs, however, arebut few in number. The Quakers have in general only a plain and usefuleducation. They are not brought up to admire such things, and they havetherefore in general but little taste for the fine and masterlyproductions of the painters' art. 

Neither would a person, in going through the houses of the Quakers, findany portraits either of themselves, or of any of their families, orancestors, except, to the latter case, they had been taken before theybecame Quakers. The first Quakers never had their portraits taken withtheir own knowledge and consent. Considering themselves as poor andhelpless creatures, and little better than dust and ashes, they had buta mean idea of their own images. They were of opinion also, that prideand self-conceit would be likely to arise to men from the view, andostentatious parade, of their own persons. They considered also, that itbecame them, as the founders of the society, to bear their testimonyagainst the vain and superfluous fashions of the world. They believedalso, if there were those whom they loved, that the best method ofshewing their regard to these would be not by having their fleshlyimages before their eyes, but by preserving their best actions in theirthoughts, as worthy of imitation; and that their own memory, in the samemanner, should be perpetuated rather in the loving hearts, and keptalive in the edifying conversation of their descendants, than in theperishing tablets of canvas, fixed upon the walls of their habitations. Hence no portraits are to be seen of many of those great and eminent menin the society, who are now mingled with the dust. 

These ideas, which thus actuated the first Quakers on this subject, arethose of the Quakers as a body at the present day. There may be here andthere an individual, who has had a portrait of some of his family taken. But such instances may be considered as rare exceptions from the generalrule. In no society is it possible to establish maxims, which shallinfluence an universal practice. 

CHAP. III. .. .. SECT. I. 

_Language--Quakers differ in their language from others--the firstalteration made by George Fox of thou for you--this change had beensuggested by Erasmus and Luther--sufferings of the Quakers inconsequence of adapting this change--a work published in theirdefence--this presented to King Charles and others--other works on thesubject by Barclay and Penn--in these the word thou shewn to be properin all languages--you to be a mark of flattery--the latter ideacorroborated by Harwell, Maresius, Godeau, Erasmus. _

As the Quakers are distinguishable from their fellow-citizens by theirdress, as was amply shewn in a former chapter, so they are no lessdistinguishable from them by the peculiarities of their language. 

George Fox seemed to look at every custom with the eye of a reformer. The language of the country, as used in his own times, struck him ashaving many censurable defects. Many of the expressions, then in use, appeared to him to contain gross flattery, others to be idolatrous, others to be false representatives of the ideas they were intended toconvey. Now he considered that christianity required truth, and hebelieved therefore that he and his followers, who professed to bechristians in word and deed, and to follow the christian pattern in allthings, as far as it could be found, were called upon to depart from allthe censurable modes of speech, as much as they were from any of thecustoms of the world, which Christianity had deemed objectionable. Andso weightily did these improprieties in his own language lie upon hismind, that he conceived himself to have had an especial commission tocorrect them. 

The first alteration, which he adopted, was in the use of the pronounthou. The pronoun you, which grammarians had fixed to be of the pluralnumber, was then occasionally used, but less than it is now, inaddressing an individual. George Fox therefore adopted thou in its placeon this occasion, leaving the word you to be used only where two or moreindividuals were addressed. 

George Fox however was not the first of the religious writers, who hadnoticed the improper use of the pronoun you. Erasmus employed a treatisein shewing the propriety of thou when addressed to a single person, andin ridiculing the use of you on the same occasion. Martin Luther alsotook great pains to expunge the word you from the station which itoccupied, and to put thou in its place. In his Ludus, he ridicules theuse of the former by the, following invented sentence, "Magister, Vosestis iratus?" This is as absurd, as if he had said in English"gentlemen art thou angry"?

But though George Fox was not the first to recommend the substitution ofthou for you, he was the first to reduce this amended use of it topractice. This he did in his own person, wherever he went, and in allthe works which he published. All his followers did the same. And, fromhis time to the present, the pronoun thou has come down so prominent inthe speech of the society, that a Quaker is generally known by it at thepresent day. 

The reader would hardly believe, if historical facts did not prove it, how much noise the introduction or rather the amended use of this littleparticle, as reduced to practice by George Fox, made in the world, andhow much ill usage it occasioned the early Quakers. Many magistrates, before whom they were carried in the early times of their institutionoccasioned their sufferings to be greater merely on this account. Theywere often abused and beaten by others, and sometimes put in danger oftheir lives. It was a common question put to a Quaker in those days, who addressed a great man in this new and simple manner, "why you illbred clown do you thou me?" The rich and mighty of those times thoughtthemselves degraded by this mode of address, as reducing them from aplural magnitude to a singular, or individual, or simple station inlife. "The use of thou, says George Fox, was a sore cut to proud flesh, and those who sought self-honour. "

George Fox, finding that both he and his followers were thus subject tomuch persecution on this account, thought it right the world shouldknow, that, in using this little particle which had given so muchoffence, the Quakers were only doing what every grammarian ought to do, if he followed his own rules. Accordingly a Quaker-work was produced, which was written to shew that in all languages thou was the proper andusual form of speech to a single person, and you to more than one. Thiswas exemplified by instances, taken out of the scriptures, and out ofbooks of teaching in about thirty languages. Two Quakers of the names ofJohn Stubbs and Benjamin Furley, took great pains in compiling it: andsome additions were made to it by George Fox himself, who was then aprisoner in Lancaster castle. 

This work, as soon as it was published, was presented to King Charlesthe second, and to his council. Copies of it were also sent to theArchbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, and to each of theuniversities. The King delivered his sentiments upon it so far as tosay, that thou was undoubtedly the proper language of all nations. TheArchbishop of Canterbury, when he was asked what he thought of it, isdescribed to have been so much at a stand, that he could not tell whatto say. The book was afterwards bought by many. It is said to havespread conviction, wherever it went. Hence it had the effect oflessening the prejudices of some, so that the Quakers were neverafterwards treated, on this account, in the same rugged manner as theyhad been before. 

But though this book procured the Quakers an amelioration of treatmenton the amended use of the expression thou, there were individuals in thesociety, who thought they ought to put their defence on a betterfoundation, by stating all the reasons, for there were many besidesthose in this book, which had induced them to differ from their fellowcitizens on this subject. This was done both by Robert Barclay andWilliam Penn in works, which defended other principles of the Quakers, and other peculiarities in their language. 

One of the arguments, by which the use of the pronoun thou was defended, was the same as that, on which it had been defended by Stubbs andFurley, that is, its strict conformity with grammar. The translators ofthe Bible had invariably used it. The liturgy had been compiled on thesame principle. All addresses made by English Christians in theirprivate prayers to the Supreme Being, were made in the language of thou, and not of you. And this was done, because the rules of the Englishgrammar warranted the expression, and because any other mode ofexpression would have been a violation of these rules. 

But the great argument (to omit all others) which Penn and Barclayinsisted upon for the change of you, was that the pronoun thou, inaddressing an individual, had been anciently in use, but that it hadbeen deserted for you for no other purpose, than that of flattery tomen; and that this dereliction of it was growing greater and greater, upon the same principle, in their own times. Hence as christians, whowere not to puff up the fleshly creature, it became them to return tothe ancient and grammatical use of the pronoun thou, and to reject thisgrowing fashion of the world. "The word you, says William Penn, wasfirst ascribed in the way of flattery, to proud Popes and Emperors, imitating the heathens vain homage to their gods, thereby ascribing aplural honour to a single person; as if one Pope had been made up ofmany gods, and one Emperor of many men; for which reason you, only to beaddressed to many, became first spoken to one. It seemed the word thoulooked like too lean and thin a respect; and therefore some, bigger thanthey should be, would have a style suitable to their own ambition. "

It will be difficult for those, who now use the word you constantly to asingle person, and who, in such use of it, never attach any idea offlattery to it, to conceive how it ever could have had the originascribed to it, or, what is more extraordinary, how men could believethemselves to be exalted, when others applied to them the word youinstead of thou. But history affords abundant evidence of the fact. 

It is well known that Caligula ordered himself to be worshipped as agod. Domitian, after him, gave similar orders with respect to himself. In process of time the very statues of the emperors began to beworshipped. One blasphemous innovation prepared the way for another. Thetitle of Pontifex Maximus gave way at length for those of Eternity, Divinity, and the like. Coeval with these appellations was the change ofthe word thou for you, and upon the same principles. These changes, however, were not so disagreeable, as they might be expected to havebeen, to the proud Romans; for while they gratified the pride of theiremperors by these appellations, they made their despotism, in their ownconceit, more tolerable to themselves. That one man should be lord evermany thousand Romans, who were the masters of the world was in itself adegrading thought. But they consoled themselves by the haughtyconsideration, that they were yielding obedience, not to man, but to anincarnate demon or good genius, or especial envoy from heaven. Theyconsidered also the emperor as an office, and as an office, includingand representing many other offices, and hence considering him as a manin the plural number, they had less objection to address him in a pluralmanner. 

The Quakers, in behalf of their assertions on this subject, quote theopinions of several learned men, and of those in particular, who, fromthe nature of their respective writings, had occasion to look into theorigin and construction of the words and expressions of language. 

Howell, in his epistle to the nobility of England before his French andEnglish Dictionary, takes notice, "that both in France, and in othernations, the word thou was used in speaking of one, but by succession oftime, when the Roman commonwealth grew into an empire, the courtiersbegan to magnify the emperor, as being furnished with power to conferdignities and offices, using the word you, yea, and deifying him withmore remarkable titles, concerning which matter we read in the epistlesof Symmachus to the emperors Theodosius and Valentinian, where he useththese forms of speaking, Vestra Æternitas, vestrum numen, vestraserenitas, vestra Clementia, that is, your, and not thy eternity, godhead, serenity, clemency. So that the word you in the plural number, together with the other titles and compellations of honour, seem to havetaken their rise from despotic government, which afterwards, by degrees, came to be derived to private persons. " He says also in his History ofFrance, that "in ancient times, the peasants addressed their kings bythe appellation of thou, but that pride and flattery first put inferiorsupon paying a plural respect to the single person of every superior, andsuperiors upon receiving it. "

John Maresius, of the French Academy, in the preface to his Clovis, speaks much to the same effect. "Let none wonder, says he, that the wordthou is used in this work to princes and princesses, for we use the sameto God, and of old the same was used to Alexanders, Caesars, queens, andempresses. The use of the word you, when only base flatteries of men oflater ages, to whom it seemed good to use the plural number to oneperson, that he may imagine himself alone to be equal to many others indignity and worth, from whence it came at last to persons of lowerquality. "

Godeau, in his preface to the translation of the New Testament, makes anapology for differing from the customs of the times in the use of thou, and intimates that you was substituted for it, as a word of superiorrespect. "I had rather, says he, faithfully keep to the express words ofPaul, than exactly follow the polished style of our tongue. Therefore Ialways use that form of calling God in the singular number not in theplural, and therefore I say rather thou than you. I confess indeed, thatthe civility and custom of this word, requires him to be honored afterthat manner. But it is likewise on the contrary true, that the originaltongue of the New Testament hath nothing common with such manners andcivility, so that not one of these many old versions we have dothobserve it. Let not men believe, that we give not respect enough to God, in that we call him by the word thou, which is nevertheless farotherwise. For I seem to myself (may be by the effect of custom) more tohonor his divine majesty, in calling him after this manner, than if Ishould call him after the manner of men, who are so delicate in theirforms of speech. "

Erasmus also in the treatise, which he wrote on the impropriety ofsubstituting you for thou, when a person addresses an individual, statesthat this strange substitution originated wholly in the flattery of men. 

SECT. II. 

_Other alterations in the language of the Quakers--they address oneanother by the title of friends--and others by the title of friends andneigbours, or by their common names--the use of sir and madamabolished--also of master or mister--and of humble servant--also oftitles of honor--reasons of this abolition--example of Jesus Christ. _

Another alteration, that took place in the language of the Quakers, wasthe expunging of all expressions from their vocabulary, which wereeither superfluous, or of the same flattering tendency as the former. 

In addressing one another, either personally or by letter, they made useof the word friend, to signify the bond of their own union, and thecharacter, which man, under the christian dispensation, was bound toexhibit in his dealings with his fellow-man. They addressed each otheralso, and spoke of each other, by their real names. If a man's name wasJohn, they called him John; they talked to him as John, and added onlyhis sir-name to distinguish him from others. 

In their intercourse with the world they adopted the same mode ofspeech: for they addressed individuals either by their plain names, orthey made use of the appellations of friends or neighbours. 

They rejected the words sir or madam, as then in use. This they did, because they considered them like the word you, as remnants of ancientflattery, derived from the papal and anti-christian ages; and becausethese words still continued to be considered as tides of flattery, thatpuffed up people in their own times. Howell, who was before quoted onthe pronoun thou, is usually quoted by the Quakers on this occasionalso. He states in his history, that "sir and madam were originallynames given to none, but the king, his brother, and their wives, both inFrance and England. Yet now the ploughman in France is called sir andhis wife madam; and men of ordinary trades in England sir, and theirwives dame, which is the legal title of a lady, and is the same as madamin French. So prevalent hath pride and flattery been in all ages, theone to give, and the other to receive respect"

The Quakers banished also the word master, or mister as it is nowpronounced, from their language, either when they spoke concerning anyone, or addressed any one by letter. To have used the word master to aperson, who was no master over them, would have been, they considered, to have indicated a needless servility, and to have given a falsepicture of their own situation, as well as of those addressed. 

Upon the same or similar principles they hesitated to subscribethemselves as the humble or obedient servants of any one, as is nowusual, at the bottom of their letters. "Horrid apostacy, says Barclay, for it is notorious that the use of these compliments implies not anydesign of service. " This expression in particular they reprobated foranother reason. It was one of those, which had followed the last degreeof impious services and expressions, which had poured in after thestatues of the emperors had been worshipped, after the titles ofeternity and divinity had been ushered in, and after thou had beenexchanged for you, and it had taken a certain station, and flourishedamong these. Good christians, however, had endeavoured to keepthemselves clear of such inconsistencies Casaubon has preserved a letterof Paulinus, Bishop of Nola, in which he rebukes Sulpicius Severus forhaving subscribed himself "his humble servant. " A part of the letterruns thus. [39] "Take heed hereafter, how thou, being from a servantcalled unto liberty, dost subscribe thyself servant to one, who is thybrother and fellow servant: for it is a sinful flattery, not a testamentof humility, to pay those honours to a man and to a sinner, which aredue to the one Lord, one Master, and one God. "

[Footnote 39: Paulinus flourished in the year 460. He is reported byPaulus Diacenus to have been an exemplary christian. Among other acts heis stated to have expended all his revenues in the redemption ofchristian captives; and, at last, when he had nothing left in his purse, to have pawned his own person in favour of a widow's son. Thebarbarians, says the same author, struck with this act of unparralleleddevotion to the cause of the unfortunate, released him, and manyprisoners with him without ransom. ]

The Quakers also banished from the use of their society all those modesof expression, which were considered as marks or designations of honouramong men. Hence, in addressing any peer of the realm, they never usedthe common formula of "my lord, " for though the peer in question mightjustly be the lord over many possessions, and tenants, and servants, yethe was no lord over their heritages or persons. Neither did they everuse the terms excellency, or grace, or honour, upon similar occasions. They considered that the bestowing of these titles might bring themunder the necessity of uttering what might be occasionally false. "Forthe persons, says Barclay, obtaining these titles, either by election orhereditarily, may frequently be found to have nothing really in themdeserving them, or answering to them, as some, to whom it is said yourexcellency may have nothing of excellency in them, and he, who is calledyour grace, may be an enemy to grace, and he, who is called your honour, may be base and ignoble. " They considered also, that they might besetting up the creature, by giving him the titles of the creator, sothat he might think more highly of himself than he ought, and moredegradingly than he ought, of the rest of the human race. 

But, independently of these moral considerations, they rejected thesetitles, because they believed, that Jesus Christ had set them an exampleby his own declarations and conduct on a certain occasion. When a personaddressed him by the name of good master, he was rebuked as having donean improper thing. [40] "Why, says our Saviour, callest thou me good?There is none good but one, that is God. " This censure they believe tohave been passed upon him, because Jesus Christ knew, that when headdressed him by this title, he addressed him, not in his divine natureor capacity, but only as a man. 

[Footnote 40: Matt. Xix. 17. ]

But Jesus Christ not only refused to receive such titles of distinctionhimself in his human nature, but on another occasion exhorted hisfollowers to shun them also. They were not to be like the Scribes andPharisees, who wished for high and eminent distinctions, that is, to becalled Rabbi Rabbi of men; but says he, "be[41] ye not called Rabbi, forone is your master, even Christ, and all ye are brethren;" and he makesthe desire which he discovered in the Jews, of seeking after worldlyinstead of heavenly honours, to be one cause of their infidelity towardsChrist, [42] for that such could not believe, as received honour from oneanother, and sought not the honour, which cometh from God only; that is, that those persons, who courted earthly honours, could not have thathumility of mind, that spirit that was to be of no reputation in theworld, which was essential to those, who wished to become the followersof Christ. 

[Footnote 41: Matt xxiii. 8. ]

[Footnote 42: John. V. 44. ]

These considerations, both those of a moral nature, and those of theexample of Jesus Christ, weighed so much with the early Quakers, thatthey made no exceptions even in favour of those of royal dignity, or ofthe rulers of their own land. George Fox wrote several letters to greatmen. He wrote twice to the king of Poland, three or four tunes to OliverCromwell, and several times to Charles the second; but he addressed themin no other manner man by their plain names, or by simple titles, expressive of their situations as rulers or kings. [43]

[Footnote 43: The Quakers never refuse the legal titles in thesuperscription or direction of their letter. They would direct to theking, as king: to a peer according to his rank, either as a duke, marquis, earl, viscount, or baron: to a clergyman, not as reverend, butas clerk. ]

These several alterations, which took place in the language of the earlyQuakers, were adopted by their several successors, and are in force inthe society at the present day. 

SECT. III. 

_Other alterations in the language--the names of the days and monthsaltered--reasons for this change--the word saint disused--various newphrases introduced_. 

Another alteration, which took place in the language of the Quakers wasthe disuse of the common names of the days of the week, and of those ofthe months of the year. 

The names of the days were considered to be of heathen origin. Sundayhad been so called by the Saxons, because it was the day, on which theysacrificed to the sun. Monday on which they sacrificed to the moon. Tuesday to the god Tuisco. Wednesday to the god Woden. Thursday to thegod Thor, and so on. Now when the Quakers considered that Jehovah hadforbidden the Israelites to make mention even of the names of othergods, they thought it inconsistent in Christians to continue to use thenames of heathen idols for the common divisions of their time, so thatthese names must be almost always in their mouths. They thought too, that they were paying a homage, in continuing the use of them, thatbordered on idolatry. They considered also as neither Monday, norTuesday, nor any other of these days, were days, in which thesesacrifices were now offered, they were using words, which conveyed falsenotions of things. Hence they determined upon the disuse of these words, and to put other names in their stead. The numerical way of naming thedays seemed to them to be the most rational, and the most innocent. Theycalled therefore Sunday the first day, Monday the second, Tuesday thethird, and soon to Saturday, which was of course the seventh. They usedno other names but these, either in their conversation, or in theirletters. 

Upon the same principles they altered the names of the months also. These, such as March and June, which had been so named by the ancientRomans, because they were sacred to Mars and Juno, were exploded, because they seemed in the use of them to be expressive of a kind ofidolatrous homage. Others again were exploded, because they were not therepresentatives of the truth. September, for example, means the[44]seventh month from the storms. It took this seventh station in thekalendar of Romulus, and it designated there its own station as well asthe reason of its name. But when it[45] lost its place in the kalendarby the alteration of the style in England, it lost its meaning. Itbecame no representative of its station, nor any representative of thetruth. For it still continues to signify the seventh month, whereas itis made to represent, or to stand in the place of, the ninth. TheQuakers therefore banished from their language the ancient names of themonths, and as they thought they could not do better than they had donein the case of the days, they placed numerical in their stead. Theycalled January the first month, February the second, March the third, and so on to December, which they called the twelfth. Thus the Quakerkalendar was made up by numerical distinctions, which have continued tothe present day. 

[Footnote 44: Septem ab imbribus. ]

[Footnote 45: This was in the year 1752, prior to this time the yearbegan on the 25th of March: and therefore September stood in the Englishas in the Roman kalendar. The early Quakers, however, as we find by aminute in 1697, had then made these alterations; but when the new stylewas introduced, they published their reasons for having done so. ]

Another alteration, which took place very generally in the language ofthe Quakers, was the rejection of the word saint, when they spoke eitherof the apostles, or of the primitive fathers. The papal authority hadcanonized these. This they considered to be an act of idolatry, and theythought they should be giving a sanction to superstition, if theycontinued the use of such a title, either in their speech or writings. After this various other alterations took place according as individualsamong them thought it right to expunge old expressions, and tosubstitute new; and these alterations were adopted by the rest, as theyhad an opinion of those who used them, or as they felt the propriety ofdoing it. Hence new phrases came into use, different from those whichwere used by the world on the same occasions; and these were graduallyspread, till they became incorporated into the language of the society. Of these the following examples may suffice. 

It is not usual with Quakers to use the words lucky or fortunate, in theway in which many others do. If a Quaker had been out on a journey, andhad experienced a number of fine days, he would never say that he hadbeen lucky in his weather. In the same manner if a Quaker had recoveredfrom an indisposition, he would never say, in speaking of thecircumstance, that he had fortunately recovered, but he would say, thathe had recovered, and "that it was a favour. " Luck, chance, or fortune, are allowed by the Quakers to have no power in the settlement of humanaffairs. 

It is not usual with Quakers to beg ten thousand pardons, as some of theworld do, for any little mistake. A Quaker generally on such an occasionasks a persons excuse. 

The Quakers never make use of the expression "christian name. " This nameis called christian by the world, because it is the name given tochildren in baptism, or in other words, when they are christened, orwhen they are initiated as christians. But the Quakers are neverbaptised. They have no belief that water-baptism can make a christian, or that it is any true mark of membership with the christian church. Hence a man's christian name is called by them his first name, becauseit is the first of the two, or of any other number of names, that maybelong to him. 

The Quakers, on meeting a person, never say "good morrow, " because alldays are equally good. Nor in parting with a person at night, do theysay "good evening, " for a similar reason, but they make use of theexpression of "farewell. "

I might proceed, till I made a little vocabulary of Quaker-expressions;but this is not necessary, and it is not at all consistent with mydesign. I shall therefore only observe, that it is expected of Quakers, that they should use the language of the society; that they shouldsubstitute thou for you; that they should discard all flattering titlesand expressions; and that they should adopt the numerical, instead ofthe heathen names, of the days and months. George Fox gave the examplehimself in all these instances. Those of the society, who depart fromthis usage, are said by the Quakers to depart from "the plain language. "

SECT. IV. 

_Great objections by the world against the preceding alterations by theQuakers--first against the use of thou for you--you said to be no longera mark of flattery--the use of it is said to be connected often withfalse Grammar--Custom said to give it, like a noun of number, a singularas well as plural Meaning--Consideration of these objections. _

There will be no difficulty in imagining, if the Quakers have foundfault with the words and expressions adopted by others, and these thegreat majority of the world, that the world will scrutinize, and findfault with, those of the Quakers in return. This in fact has turned outto be the case. --And I know of no subject, except that of dress, wherethe world have been more lavish of their censures, than in that beforeus. 

When the Quakers first appeared as a religious community, manyobjections were thrown but against the peculiarities of their language. These were noticed by Robert Barclay and William Penn. But, since thattime, other objections have been started. But as these have not beenpublished (for they remain where they have usually been, in the mouthsof living persons) Quaker writers have not felt themselves called uponto attempt to answer them. These objections, however, of bothdescriptions, I shall notice in the present place. 

As the change of the pronoun thou for you was the first article, that Ibrought forward on the subject of the language of the Quakers, I shallbegin with the objections, that are usually started against it. 

"Singularity, it is said, should always be avoided, if it can be donewith a clear conscience. The Quakers might have had honest scruplesagainst you for thou, when you was a mark of flattery. But they can haveno reasonable scruples now, and therefore they should cease to besingular, for the word you is clearly no mark of flattery at the presentday. However improper it might once have been, it is now an innocentsynonime. "

"The use again of the word thou for you, as insisted upon by theQuakers, leads them frequently into false grammar. 'Thee knowest, ' andterms like these, are not unusual in Quaker mouths. Now the Quakers, though they defended the word thou for you on the notion, that theyought not to accustom their lips to flattery, defended it alsostrenuously on the notion, that they were strictly adhering togrammar-rules. But all such terms as 'thee knowest, ' and others of asimilar kind, must recoil upon themselves as incorrect, and ascensurable, even upon their own ground. "

"The word you again may be considered as a singular, as well as a pluralexpression. The world use it in this manner. And who are the makers oflanguage, but the world? Words change their meaning, as the leaves theircolour in autumn, and custom has always been found powerful enough togive authority for a change. "

With respect to these objections, it may be observed, that the word youhas certainly so far lost its meaning, as to be no longer a mark offlattery. The Quakers also are occasionally found in the use of theungrammatical expressions, that have been brought against them. Andunquestionably, except they mean to give up the grammatical part of thedefence by Penn and Barclay, these ought to be done away. That you, however, is of the singular number, is not quite so clear. For whilethou is used in the singular number in the Bible, and in the liturgy, and in the prayers of individuals, and while it is the language, as itis, of a great portion of the inhabitants of the northern part of thekingdom, it will be a standing monument against the usurpation andmutilated dominion of you. 

SECT. V. 

_Secondly against the words friend and neighbour, as used by theQuakers--Quakers also said to be wrong in their disuse of titles--forthe use of these is sanctioned by St. Luke and St. Paul--answer ofBarclay to the latter assertion--this answer not generally deemedsatisfactory--observations upon the subject in dispute. _

The subject, that comes next in order, will be that of the objections, that are usually made against certain terms used by the Quakers, andagainst their disuse of titles of honour, as sanctioned by the world. 

On the use of the words "friend, and neighbour, " it is usually observed, that these are too limited in their meaning, to be always, if usedpromiscuously, representatives of the truth. If the Quakers are so nice, that they will use no expression, that is not precisely true, theyshould invent additional terms, which should express the relativecondition of those, with whom they converse. The word "friend" denotesesteem, and the word "neighbour" proximity of dwelling. But all thepersons, to whom the Quakers address themselves, are not persons, whomthey love and respect, or who are the inhabitants of the sameneighbourhood with themselves. There is, it is said, as much untruth incalling a man friend, or neighbour, who is not so, as excellency, inwhom there may be nothing that is excellent. 

The Quakers, in reply to this, would observe, that they use the wordfriend, as significative of their own union, and, when they speak toothers, as significative of their Christian relation to one another. Inthe same sense they use the word neighbour. Jesus Christ, when thelawyer asked him who was his neighbour, gave him a short[46] history ofthe Samaritan, who fell among thieves; from which he suggested oninference, that the term neighbour was not confined to those, who livednear one another, or belonged to the same sect, but that it might extendto those, who lived at a distance, and to the Samaritan equally with theJew. In the same manner he considered all men as[47] brethren. That is, they were thus scripturally related to one another. 

[Footnote 46: Luke x. 39. ]

[Footnote 47: Matt, xxiii. 8. ]

Another objection which has been raised against the Quakers on thispart of the subject, is levelled against their disuse of the titles ofhonour of the world. St. Luke, it has been said, makes use of the termsmost excellent, when he addresses Theophilus, and St. Paul of the wordsmost noble, when he addresses Festus. Now the teachers and promulgatorsof christianity would never have given these titles, if they had notbeen allowable by the gospel. 

As this last argument was used in the time of Barclay, he has noticed itin his celebrated apology. --"Since Luke, says he, wrote by the dictatesof the infallible spirit of God, I think it will not be doubted butTheophilus did deserve it, as being really endued with that virtue; inwhich case we shall not condemn those, who do it by the same rule. Butit is not proved, that Luke gave Theophilus this title, as that whichwas inherent to him, either by his father, or by any patent Theophilushad obtained from any of the princes of the earth, or that he would havegiven it to him, in case he had not been truly excellent; and withoutthis be proved, which never can, there can nothing hence be deducedagainst us. The like may be said of that of Paul to Festus, whom hewould not have called such, if he had not been truly noble; as indeed hewas, in that he suffered him to be heard in his own cause, and would notgive way to the fury of the Jews against him. It was not because of anyoutward title bestowed upon Festus, that he so called him, else he wouldhave given the same compilation to his predecessor Felix, who had thesame office, but being a covetous man we find he gives him no suchtitle. "

This is the answer of Barclay. It has not however been deemed quitesatisfactory by the world. It has been observed that one good actionwill never give a man a right to a general title. This is undoubtedly anobservation of some weight. But it must be contended on the other hand, that both Luke and Paul must have been apprised that the religion, theywere so strenuous in propagating, required every man to speak the truth. They must have been apprised also, that it inculcated humility of mind. And it is probable therefore that they would never have bestowed titlesupon men, which should have been false in their application, orproductive of vanity and pride. St. Luke could not be otherwise thanaware of the answer of Jesus Christ, when he rebuked the person forgiving him the title of good, because he was one of the evangelists, who[48] recorded it, and St. Paul could not have been otherwise thanaware of it also, on account of his intimacy with St. Luke, as well asfrom other causes. 

[Footnote 48: Luke xviii, 18. ]

Neither has this answer been considered as satisfactory for anotherreason. It has been presumed that the expressions of excellent and ofnoble were established titles of rank, and if an evangelist and anapostle used them, they could not be objectionable if used by others. But let us admit for a moment, that they were titles of rank. Howhappens it that St. Paul, when he was before Festus, and not in ajudicial capacity (for he had been reserved for Caesar's tribunal)should have given him this epithet of noble; and that, when summonedbefore Felix, and this in a judicial capacity, he should have omittedit? This application of it to the one and not to the other, eitherimplies that it was no title, or, if it was a title as we have supposed, that St. Paul had some reason for this partial use of it. And in thiscase, no better reason can be given, than that suggested by Barclay. St. Paul knew that Festus had done his duty. He knew, on the other hand, theabandoned character of Felix. The latter was then living, as Josephusrelates, in open adultery with Drusilla, who had been married to Azis, and brought away from her husband by the help of Simon a Magician; andthis circumstance probably gave occasion to Paul to dwell upontemperance, or continence as the word might be rendered, among othersubjects, when he made Felix tremble. But, besides this, he must haveknown the general character of a man, of whom Tacitus complained, that"his government was distinguished by[49] servility and every species ofcruelty and lust. "--

[Footnote 49: "Per omnem Saevitiam et Libidinem jus regium serviliingenio exercuit. "]

If therefore the epithet of noble was an established title for thoseRomans, who held the government of Judea, the giving of it to one, andthe omission of it to the other, would probably shew the discriminationof St. Paul as a Christian, that he had no objection to give it, whereit could be applied with truth, but that he refused it, when it was notapplicable to the living character. 

But that the expression of excellent or of noble was any title at all, there is no evidence to shew. And first, let us examine the word, whichwas used upon this occasion. The [50]original Greek word has no meaningas a title in any Lexicon that I have seen. It relates both to personaland civil power, and in a secondary sense, to the strength anddisposition of the mind. It occurs but in four places in the NewTestament. In two of these it is translated excellent and in the othersnoble. But Gilbert Wakefield, one of our best scholars has expunged theword noble, and substituted excellent throughout. Indeed of all themeanings of this word noble is the least proper. No judgment thereforecan be pronounced in favour of a title by any analysis of the word. 

[Footnote 50: [Greek: kralistos]]

Let us now examine it as used by St. Luke. And here almost everyconsideration makes against it, as an established title. In the firstplace, the wisest commentators do not know who Theophilus was. It hasbeen supposed by many learned fathers, such as Epephanius, Salvian, andothers, that St. Luke, in addressing his gospel to Theophilus, addressedit as the words, "excellent Theophilus" import, to every "firm lover ofGod, " or, if St. Luke uses the style of [51]Athanasius, to "every goodChristian. " But on a supposition that Theophilus had been a livingcharacter, and a man in power, the use of the epithet is against it as atitle of rank; because St. Luke gives it to Theophilus in the beginningof his gospel, and does not give it to him, when he addresses him in theacts. If therefore he had addressed him in this manner, becauseexcellent was his proper title, on one occasion, it would have been akind of legal, and at any rate a disrespectful omission, not to havegiven it to him on the other. With respect to the term noble as used bySt. Paul to Festus, the sense of it must be determined by general aswell as by particular considerations. There are two circumstances, whichat the first sight make in favour of it as a title, [52]Lysias addresseshis letter to the "most excellent Felix, " and the orator [53]Tertullussays, "we except it always and in all places most noble Felix!" Butthere must be some drawback from the latter circumstance, as an argumentof weight. There is reason to suppose that this expression was used byTertullus, as a piece of flattery, to compass the death of Paul; for itis of a piece with the other expressions which he used, when he talkedof the worthy deeds done by the providence of so detestable a wretch, as Felix. And it will always be an objection to noble as a legal title, that St. Paul gave it to one governor, and omitted it to another, excepthe did it for the reasons, that have been before described. To this itmay be added, that legal titles of eminence were not then, as at thistime of day, in use. Agrippa had no other, or at least Paul gave him noother title, than that of king. If Porcius Festus had been descendedfrom a Patrician, or had had the statues of his ancestors, he might, onthese accounts, be said to have been of a noble family. But we know, that nobody on this account, would have addressed him as noble in thosedays, either by speech or letter. The first Roman, who was ever honouredwith a legal title, as a title of distinction, was Octavius, upon whomthe senate, but a few years before the birth of Paul, had conferred thename of Augustus. But no procurator of a province took this title. Neither does it appear that the circumstance gave birth to inferiortitles to those in inferior offices in the government. And indeed on thetitle "Augustus" it may be observed, that though it followed thesuccessors of Octavius, it was but sparingly used, being mostly used onmedals, monumental pillars, and in public acts of the state. Pliny, inhis letters to Trajan, though reputed an excellent prince, addressed himas only sir or master, and he wrote many years after the death of Paul. Athenagoras, in addressing his book, in times posterior to these, to theemperors M. Aurelius Antoninus, and L. Aurelius Commodus, addressesthem only by the title of "great princes. " In short titles were not inuse. They did not creep in, so as to be commonly used, till after thestatues of the emperors had begun to be worshipped by the military as alegal and accustomary homage. The terms "eternity and divinity" withothers were then ushered in, but these were confined wholly to theemperors themselves. In the time of Constantine we find the title ofillustrious. This was given to those princes, who had distinguishedthemselves in war, but it was not continued to their descendants. Inprocess of time, however, it became more common, and the son of everyprince began to be called illustrious. 

[Footnote 51: [Greek: makarios] and [Greek: philochrisos] aresubstituted by Athanasius for the word christian. ]

[Footnote 52: Acts, xxiii, 26. ]

[Footnote 53: Acts, xxiv. 3. ]

SECT. VI. 

_Thirdly against the alteration of the names of the days andmonths--people, it is said do not necessarily pay homage to Idols, whocontinue in the use of the ancient names--if the Quaker principles alsowere generally adopted on this subject, language would be thrown intoconfusion--Quakers also, by attempting to steer clear of Idolatry, fallinto it--replies of the Quakers to these objections. _

The next objections for consideration, which are made against thelanguage of the Quakers, are those which relate to their alteration ofthe names of the days and the months. These objections are commonlymade, when the language of the Quakers becomes a subject of conversationwith the world. 

"There is great absurdity, it is said, in supposing, that persons payany respect to heathen idols, who retain the use of the ancient names ofthe divisions of time. How many thousands are there, who know nothing oftheir origin? The common people of the country know none of the reasons, why the months, and the days are called as they are. The middle classesare mostly ignorant of the same. Those, who are well informed on thesubject, never once think, when they mention the months and days, on thereason of the rise of their names. Indeed the almost hourly use ofthose names secures the oblivion of their origin. Who, when he speaks ofWednesday and Thursday, thinks that these were the days sacred to Wodenand Thor? but there can be no idolatry, where there is no intention toidolize. "

"Great weakness, it is said again, is manifested by the Quakers, inquarrelling with a few words in the language, and in living at peacewith others, which are equally objectionable. Every reason, it is said, must be a weak one, which is not universal. But if some of the reasons, given by the Quakers, were universally applied, they would throwlanguage into as much confusion as the builders of Babel. The word Smithfor example, which is the common name of many families, ought to beobjected to by this rule, if the person, to whom it belongs, happens tobe a carpenter. And the word carpenter which is likewise a family-name, ought to be objected to, if the person so called should happen to be asmith. And, in this case, men would be obliged to draw lots for numbers, and to be called by the numerical ticket, which they should draw. "

"It is objected again to the Quakers, that, by attempting to steer clearof idolatry, they fall into it. The Quakers are considered to be genuineidolaters, in this case. The blind pagan imagined a moral being, eitherheavenly or infernal, to inhere in a log of wood or a block of stone. The Quakers, in like manner, imagine a moral being, truth or falsehood, to exist in a lifeless word, and this independently of the sense inwhich it is spoken, and in which it is known that it will be understood. What is this, it is said, but a species of idolatry and a degradingsuperstition?"

The Quakers would reply to these observations, first, that they do notcharge others with idolatry, in the use of these names, who know nothingof their origin, or who feel no impropriety in their use. 

Secondly, that if the principle, upon which they found their alterationsin language, cannot, on account of existing circumstances, be followedin all cases, there is no reason, why it should not be followed, whereit can. In the names of men it would be impossible to adopt it. Oldpeople are going off, and young people are coming up, and people of alldescriptions are themselves changing, and a change of names to suitevery persons condition, and qualification, would be impossible. 

Thirdly, that they pay no more homage or obeisance to words, than theobeisance of truth. There is always a propriety in truth, and animpropriety in falsehood. And in proportion as the names of thingsaccord with their essences, qualities, properties, character, and thelike, they are more or less proper. September, for example, is not anappropriate name, if its meaning be enquired into, for the month whichit represents: but the ninth month is, and the latter appellation willstand the test of the strictest enquiry. 

They would say again that this, as well as the other alterations intheir language has had a moral influence on the society, and has beenproductive of moral good. In the same manner as the dress, which theyreceived from their ancestors has operated as a guardian, orpreservative of virtue, so has the language which they received fromthem also. The language has made the world overseers of the conduct ofthe society. A Quaker is known by his language as much as by his dress. It operates, by discovering him, as a check upon his actions. It keepshim also, like the dress distinct from others. And the Quakers believe, that they can never keep up their Christian discipline, except they keepclear of the spirit of the world. Hence it has been considered as ofgreat importance to keep up the plain language; and this importance hasbeen further manifested by circumstances, that have taken place withinthe pale of the society. For in the same manner as those, who begin todepart from the simplicity of dress, are generally in the way to go offamong the world, so are those who depart from the simplicity of thelanguage. Each deviation is a sign of a temper for desertion. Eachdeviation brings them in appearance nearer to the world. But the nearerthey resemble the world in this respect, the more they are found to mixwith it. They are of course the more likely to be seduced from thewholesome prohibitions of the society. The language therefore of theQuakers has grown up insensibly as a wall of partition, which could notnow, it is contended, be taken away without endangering the innocence oftheir youth. 

SECT. VII. 

_Advantages and disadvantages of the system of the Quaker, language--disadvantages are that it may lead to superstition--andhypocrisy--advantages are that it excludes flattery--is founded upontruth--promotes truth, and correctness in the expression ofideas--observation of Hobbes--would be the most perfect model for auniversal calendar--the use or disuse of this system may either of thembe made useful to morality. _

I have now given to the reader the objections, that are usually made tothe alterations, which the Quakers have introduced into the language ofthe country, as well as the replies, which the Quakers would make tothese objections. I shall solicit the continuance of his patience alittle longer, or till I have made a few remarks of my own upon thissubject. 

It certainly becomes people, who introduce great peculiarities intotheir system, to be careful, that they are well founded, and to considerhow far they may bring their minds into bondage, or what moral effectsthey may produce on their diameter in a course of time. 

On the reformed language of the Quakers it may be observed, that bothadvantages and disadvantages may follow according to the due or undueestimation in which individuals may hold it. 

If individuals should lay too great a stress upon language, that is, ifthey should carry their prejudices so far against outward and lifelesswords, that they should not dare to pronounce them, and this as a matterof religion, they are certainly in the way of becoming superstitious, and of losing the dignified independence of their minds. 

If again they should put an undue estimate upon language, so as toconsider it as a criterion of religious purity, they may be encouragingthe growth of hypocrisy within their own precincts. For if the use ofthis reformed language be considered as an essential of religion, thatis, if men are highly thought of in proportion as they conform to itrigidly, it may be a covering to many to neglect the weightier mattersof righteousness; at least the fulfilling of such minor duties mayshield them from the suspicion of neglecting the greater: and if theyshould be reported as erring in the latter case, their crime would beless credited under their observance of these minutiae of the law. 

These effects are likely to result to the society, if the peculiaritiesof their language be insisted on beyond their due bounds. But, on theother hand, it must be confessed, that advantages are likely to followfrom the same system, which are of great importance in themselves, andwhich may be set off as a counterbalance to the disadvantages described. 

The Quakers may say, and this with the greatest truth, "we have nevercringed or stooped below the dignity of men. We have never been guiltyof base flattery; we have never been instrumental in raising thecreature, with whom we have conversed, above his condition, so that inthe imagination of his own consequence, he should lose sight of hisdependence on the Supreme Being, or treat his fellow-men, because theyshould happen to be below him, as worms or reptiles of the earth. "

They may say also that the system of their language originated in thepurest motives, and that it is founded on the sacred basis of truth. 

It may be said also, that the habits of caution which the differentpeculiarities in their language have introduced and interwoven intotheir constitution, have taught them particularly to respect the truth, and to aim at it in all their expressions whether in speech or letters, and that it has given them a peculiar correctness in the expression oftheir ideas, which they would scarcely have had by means of the ordinaryeducation of the world. Hobbes says[54] "animadverte, quam sit abimproprietate verborum pronum hominibus prolabi in errores circa res, "or "how prone men are to fall into errors about things, when they useimproper expressions. " The converse of this proposition may be observedto be true with respect to the Quakers, or it may be observed, that thestudy of proper expressions has given them correct conceptions ofthings, and has had an influence in favor of truth. There are no people, though the common notion may be otherwise, who speak so accurately asthe Quakers, or whose letters, if examined on any subject, would be sofree from any double meaning, so little liable to be mistaken, and soeasy to be understood. 

[Footnote 54: Hobbesii Examen. Et Emend. Hod. Math. P. 55. Edit. Amstel. ]

It may be observed also on the language of the Quakers, that is, on thatpart of it, which relates to the alteration of the names of the monthsand days, that this alteration would form the most perfect model for anuniversal calendar of any that has yet appeared in the world. The Frenchnation chose to alter their calendar, and, to make it useful tohusbandry, they designated their months, so that they should berepresentatives of the different seasons of the year. They called themsnowy, and windy, and harvest, and vintage-months, and the like. But inso large a territory, as that of France, these new designations were notthe representatives of the truth. The northern and southern parts werenot alike in their climate. Much less could these designations speakthe truth for other parts of the world: whereas numerical appellationsmight be adopted with truth, and be attended with usefulness to all thenations of the world, who divided their time in the same manner. 

On the latter subject of the names of the days and months, thealteration of which is considered as the most objectionable by theworld, I shall only observe, that, if the Quakers have religiousscruples concerning them, it is their duty to persevere in the disuse ofthem. Those of the world, on the other hand, who have no such scruples, are under no obligation to follow their example. And in the same manneras the Quakers convert the disuse of these ancient terms to theimprovement of their moral character, so those of the world may convertthe use of them to a moral purpose. Man is a reasonable, and moralbeing, and capable of moral improvement; and this improvement may bemade to proceed from apparently worthless causes. If we were to findcrosses or other Roman-Catholic relics fixed in the walls of our placesof worship, why should we displace them? Why should we not rather sufferthem to remain, to put us in mind of the necessity of thankfulness forthe reformation in our religion? If again we were to find an altar, which had been sacred to Moloc, but which had been turned into astepping stone, to help the aged and infirm upon their horses, whyshould we destroy it? Might it not be made useful to our morality, asfar as it could be made to excite sorrow for the past and gratitude forthe present? And in the same manner might it not be edifying to retainthe use of the ancient names of the days and months? Might not thankfulfeelings be excited in our hearts, that the crime of idolatry had ceasedamong us, and that the only remnant of it was a useful signature of thetimes? In fact, if it be the tendency of the corrupt part of our natureto render innocent things vicious, it is, on the other hand, in theessence of our nature, to render vicious things in process of timeinnocent; so that the remnants of idolatry and superstition may be madesubservient to the moral improvement of mankind. 

CHAP. IV. 

_Address--all nations have used ceremonies of address--George Fox bearshis testimony against those in use in his own times--sufferings of theQuakers on this account--makes no exception in favor of royalty--hisdispute with Judge Glynn--modern Quakers follow his example--use noceremonies even to majesty--various reasons for their disuse of them. _

All nations have been in the habit of using outward gestures orceremonies, as marks of affection, obeisance or respect. And theseoutward ceremonies have been different from one another, so much so, that those, which have been adjudged to be suitable emblems of certainaffections or dispositions of the mind among one people, would have beenconsidered as very improper emblems of the same, and would have beeneven thought ridiculous by another, yet all nations have supposed, thatthey employed the most rational modes for these purposes. And indeed, there were probably none of these outward gestures and ceremonies, which, in their beginning, would not have admitted of a reasonabledefence while they continued to convey to the minds of those, whoadopted them, the objects, for which they were intended, or while those, who used them, persevered with sincerity in their use, little or noobjection could be made to them by the moralist. But as soon as the endsof their institution were lost, or they were used without anyappropriate feeling of the heart, they became empty civilities, andlittle better than mockery or grimace. 

The customs of this sort, which obtained in the time of George Fox, weresimilar to those, which are now in use on similar occasions. Peoplepulled off their hats, and bowed, and scraped with their feet. And thesethings they did, as marks of civility, friendship, or respect to oneanother. 

George Fox was greatly grieved about these idle ceremonies. He lamentedthat men should degrade themselves by the use of them, and that theyshould encourage habits, that were abhorrent of the truth. His feelingswere so strong upon this subject, that he felt himself called upon tobear his testimony against them. Accordingly he never submitted to themhimself, and those, who received his religious doctrines, followed hisexample. 

The omission of these ceremonies, however, procured both for him and hisfollowers, as had been the case in the change of thou for you, muchill-will, and harsh treatment. The Quakers were derided and abused. Their hats were taken forcibly from their heads, and thrown away. Theywere beaten and imprisoned on this sole account. And so far did theworld carry their resentment towards them for the omission of theselittle ceremonies, that they refused for some time to deal with them astradesmen, or to buy things at their shops, so that some Quakers couldhardly get money enough to buy themselves bread. 

George Fox, however, and his associates, persevered, notwithstandingthis ill usage, in the disuse of all honours, either by the moving ofthe hat, or the usual bendings of the body; and as that, which was aright custom for one, was a right one for another, they made noexception even in favour of the chief magistrate of the land. GeorgeFox, when he visited Oliver Cromwell as protector, never pulled off hishat; and it is remarkable that the protector was not angry with him forit. 

Neither did he pull off his hat to the judges at any time, notwithstanding he was so often brought before them. Controversiessometimes took place between him and them in the public court, uponthese occasions, one of which I shall notice, as it marks the manner ofconducting the jurisprudence of those times. 

When George Fox, and two other friends, were brought out of Launcestongaol, to be tried before judge Glynn, who was then chief justice ofEngland, they came into court with their hats on. The judge asked themthe reason of this, but they said nothing. He then told them, that thecourt commanded them to pull off their hats. Upon this George Foxaddressed them in the following manner. "Where, says he, did ever anymagistrate, king or judge, from Moses to Daniel, command any to put offtheir hats, when they came before them in their courts, either amongstthe Jews, who were God's people, or among the heathen? And if the law ofEngland doth command any such thing, shew me that law, either written orprinted. " Judge Glynn upon this grew angry, and replied, that "he didnot carry his law-books upon his back. " But says George Fox, "tell mewhere it is printed in any statute-book, that I may read it" The judge, in a vulgar manner, ordered him away, and he was accordingly taken away, and put among thieves. The judge, however, in a short time afterwardsordered him up again, and, on his return put to him the followingquestion, "Come, says he, where had they hats from Moses to Daniel?Come, answer me. I have you fast now. " George. Fox replied, that "hemight read in the third chapter of Daniel, that the three children werecast into the fiery furnace by Nebuchadnezzar's command, with theircoats, their hose, and their hats on. " The repetition of this appositetext stopped the judge from any farther comments on the custom, and heordered him and his companions to be taken away again. And they wereaccordingly taken away and they were thrust again among thieves. Inprocess of time, however, this custom of the Quakers began to be knownamong the judges, who so far respected their scruples, as to take carethat their hats should be taken off in future in the courts. 

These omissions of the ceremonies of the world, as begun by theprimitive Quakers, are continued by the modern. They neither bow norscrape, nor pull off their hats to any, by way of civility or respect, and they carry their principles, like their predecessors, so far, thatthey observe none of these exterior parts of politeness even in thepresence of royalty. The Quakers are in the habit on particularoccasions of sending deputies to the king. And it is remarkable that hispresent majesty always sees them himself, if he be well, and not byproxy. Notwithstanding this, no one in the deputation ever pulls off hishat. Those, however, who are in waiting in the anti-chamber, knowingthis custom of the Quakers, take their hats from their heads, beforethey enter the room, where the king is. On entering the room, theyneither bow nor scrape, nor kneel, and as this ceremony cannot beperformed for them by others, they go into the royal presence in a lessservile, or more dignified manner, than either the representatives ofsovereigns, or those, who have humbled nations by the achievement ofgreat victories. 

The ground, upon which the Quakers decline the use of the ordinaryceremonies just mentioned, is, the honours are the honours of the world. Now, as that these of the world, they consider them as objectionable onseveral accounts. 

First, they are no more the criterions of obeisance and respect, thanmourning garments are the criterions of sorrow. But Christianity isnever satisfied but with the truth. It forbids all false appearances. Itallows no image to be held out, that is not a faithful picture of itsoriginal, or no action to be resorted to, that is not correspondent withthe feelings of the heart. 

In the second place the Quakers presume, that, as honours of the world, all such ceremonies are generally of a complimentary nature. No one bowsto a poor man. But almost every one to the rich, and the rich to oneanother. Hence bowing is as much a species of flattery through themedium of the body, as the giving of undeserved titles through themedium of the tongue. 

As honours of the world again the Quakers think them censurable, becauseall such honours were censured by Jesus Christ. On the occasion, onwhich he exhorted his followers not to be like the Scribes andPharisees, and to seek flattering titles, so as to be called Rabbi Rabbiof man, he exhorted them to avoid all ceremonious salutations, such asgreetings in the market-places. He couples the two different customs offlattering titles and salutations in the same sentence, and mentionsthem in the same breath. And though the word "greetings" does notperhaps precisely mean those bowings and scrapings, which are used atthe present day, yet it means, both according to its derivation and thenature of the Jewish customs, those outward personal actions orgestures, which were used as complimentary to the Jewish world. 

With respect to the pulling off the hat the Quakers have an additionalobjection to this custom, quite distinct from the objections, that havebeen mentioned above. Every minister in the Quaker society takes off hishat, either when he preaches, or when he prays. St Paul[55] enjoins thiscustom. But if they take off their hats, that is, uncover their heads, as an outward act enjoined in the service of God, they cannot with anypropriety take them off, or uncover their heads to men, because theywould be giving to the creature the same outward honour which they giveto the creator. And in this custom they conceive the world to bepeculiarly inconsistent. For men go into their churches, and into theirmeetings, and pull off their hats, or uncover their heads, for the samereason as the Quaker-ministers when they pray (for no other reason canbe assigned) and, when they come out of their respective places ofworship, they uncover them again on every trivial occasion, to thosewhom they meet, using to man the same outward mark of homage, as theyhad just given to God. 

[Footnote 55: 1 Cor. Chap. Xi. ]

CHAP. V. 

_Manners and conversation--Quakers esteemed reserved--this anappearance owing to their education--their hospitality in their ownhouses--the freedom allowed and taken--their conversationlimited--politics generally excluded--subjects of conversation examinedin our towns--also in the metropolis--no such subjects among theQuakers--their conversation more dignified--extraordinary circumstancethat takes place occasionally in the company of the Quakers. _

The Quakers are generally supposed to be a stiff and reserved people, and to be a people of severe and uncourteous manners. I confess there issomething in their appearance that will justify the supposition in theeyes of strangers, and of such as do not know them: I mean of such, asjust see them occasionally out of doors, but do not mix with them intheir own houses. 

It cannot be expected that persons, educated like the Quakers, shouldassimilate much in their manners to other people. The very dress theywear, which is so different from that of others, would give them a stiffappearance in the eyes of the world, if nothing else could be found tocontribute towards it. Excluded also from much intercourse with theworld, and separated at a vast distance from it by the singularity ofmany of their customs, they would naturally appear to others to be closeand reserved. Neither is it to be expected that those, whose spiritsare never animated by music, or enlivened by the exhibitions of thetheatre, or the diversions which others follow, would have other thancountenances that were grave. Their discipline also, which calls them sofrequently to important duties, and the dispatch of serious business, would produce the same feature. I may observe also, that a peculiarityof gait, which might be mistaken for awkwardness, might not unreasonablybe expected in those, who had neither learned to walk under the guidanceof a dancing, master, nor to bow under the direction of the dominion offashion. If those and those only are to be esteemed really polished andcourteous, who bow and scrape, and salute each other by certainprescribed gestures, then the Quakers will appear to have contractedmuch rust, and to have an indisputable right to the title of a clownishand inflexible people. 

I must observe however that these appearances, though they may besubstantial in the estimation of those who do not know them, graduallyvanish with those, who do. Their hospitality in their own houses, andtheir great attention and kindness, soon force out of sight all ideas ofuncourteousness. Their freedom also soon annihilates those of stiffnessand reserve. Their manners, though they have not the polished surface ofthose which are usually attached to fashionable life, are agreeable, when known. 

There is one trait in the Quaker-manners, which runs through the wholesociety, as far as I have seen in their houses, and which is worthy ofmention. The Quakers appear to be particularly gratified, when those, who visit them, ask for what they want. Instead of considering this asrudeness or intrusion, they esteem it as a favour done them. Thecircumstance of asking, on such an occasion, is to them a proof, thatthere visitors feel themselves at home. Indeed they almost always desirea stranger who has been introduced to them "to be free. " This is theirusual expression. And if he assures them that he will, and if they findhim asking for what he wishes to have, you may perceive in theircountenances the pleasure, which his conduct has given them. Theyconsider him, when he has used this freedom, to have acted as theyexpress it "kindly. " Nothing can be more truly polite than that conductto another, by which he shall be induced to feel himself as comfortablysituated, as if he were in his own house. 

As the Quakers desire their visitors to be free, and to do as theyplease, so they do not fail to do the same themselves, never regardingsuch visitors as impediments in the way of their concerns. If they haveany business or engagement out of doors, they say so and go, using noceremony, and but few words as an apology. Their visitors, I mean suchas stay for a time in their houses, are left in the interim to amusethemselves as they please. This is peculiarly agreeable, because theirfriends know, when they visit them, that they neither restrain, norshackle, nor put them to inconvenience. In fact it may be truly saidthat if satisfaction in visiting depends upon a man's own freedom to doas he likes, to ask and to call for what he wants, to go out and come inas he pleases; and if it depends also on the knowledge he has, that, indoing all these things, he puts no person out of his way, there are nohouses, where people will be better pleased with their treatment, thanin those of the Quakers. 

This trait in the character of the Quakers is very general. I would notpretend, however, to call it universal. But it is quite general enoughto be pronounced a feature in their domestic character. I do not mean bythe mention of it, to apologize, in any manner for the ruggedness ofmanners of some Quakers. There are undoubtedly solitary families, whichhaving lived in places, where there have been scarcely any of their ownsociety with whom to associate, and which, having scarcely mixed withothers of other denominations except in the way of trade, have anuncourteousness, ingrafted in them as it were by these circumstances, which no change of situation afterwards has been able to obliterate. 

The subjects of conversation among the Quakers differ, like those ofothers, but they are not so numerous, neither are they of the same kind, as those of other people. 

The Quaker conversation is cramped or fettered for two reasons, first bythe caution, that prevails among the members of the society relative tothe use of idle words, and secondly by the caution, that prevails amongthem, relative to the adapting of their expressions to the truth. Hencethe primitive Quakers were persons of few words. 

The subjects also of the Quaker conversation are limited for severalreasons. The Quakers have not the same classical or philosophicaleducation, as those of other denominations in an equal situation inlife. This circumstance will of course exclude many topics from theirdiscourse. 

Religious considerations also exclude others. Politics, which generallyengross a good deal of attention, and which afford an inexhaustible fundof matter for conversation to a great part of the inhabitants of theisland, are seldom introduced, and, if introduced, very tenderlyhandled in general among the Quaker-society. I have seen aged Quakersgently reprove others of tenderer years, with whom they happened to bein company, for having started them. It is not that the Quakers have notthe same feelings as other men, or that they are not equally interestedabout humanity, or that they are incapable of opinions on the changeablepolitical events, that are passing over the face of the globe, that thissubject is so little agitated among them. They are usually silent uponit for particular reasons. They consider first, that, as they are notallowed to have any direction, and in many cases could notconscientiously interfere, in government-matters, it would be folly todisquiet their minds with vain and fruitless speculations. They consideragain, that political subjects frequently irritate people, and make themwarm. Now this is a temper, which they consider to be peculiarlydetrimental to their religion. They consider themselves also in thislife as but upon a journey to another, and that they should get throughit as quietly and as inoffensively as they can. They believe again withGeorge Fox, that, "in these lower regions, or in this airy life, allnews is uncertain. There is nothing stable. But in the higher regions, or in the kingdom of Christ, all things are stable: and the news isalways good and certain. " [56]

[Footnote 56: There is always an exception in favour of conversation onpolitics, which is, when the government are agitating any question, their interests or their religious freedom is involved. ]

As politics do not afford matter for much conversation in theQuaker-society, so neither do some other subjects, that may bementioned. 

In a country town, where people daily visit, it is not uncommon toobserve, whether at the card, or at the tea-table, that what is usuallycalled scandal forms a part of the pleasures of conversation. Thehatching up of suspicions on the accidental occurrence of trivialcircumstances, the blowing up of these suspicions into substances andforms, animadversions on character, these, and such like themes, wearout a great part of the time of an afternoon or an evening visit. Suchsubjects, however, cannot enter where Quakers converse with one another. To avoid tale-bearing and detraction is a lesson inculcated into them inearly youth. The maxim is incorporated into their religion, and ofcourse follows them through life. It is contained in one of theirqueries. This query is read to them in their meetings, and the subjectof it is therefore repeatedly brought to their notice and recollection. Add to which, that, if a Quaker were to repeat any unfounded scandal, that operated to the injury of another's character, and were not to giveup the author, or make satisfaction for the same, he would be liable, by the rules of the society, to be disowned. 

I do not mean to assert here, that a Quaker never says a harsh thing ofanother man. All, who profess to be, are not Quakers. Subjects of ascandalous nature may be in introduced by others of anotherdenomination, in which, if Quakers are present, they may unguardedlyjoin. But it is certainly true, that Quakers are more upon their guard, with respect to scandalizing others, than many other people. Nor is thisunlikely to be the case, when we consider that caution in thisparticular is required of them by the laws of their religion. It iscertainly true also, that such subjects are never introduced by them, like those at country tea-tables, for the sole purpose of producingconversation. And I believe I may add with truth, that it would even bedeemed extraordinary by the society, if such subjects were introduced bythem at all. 

In companies also in the metropolis, as well as in country towns, avariety of subjects affords food for conversation which never enter intothe discourse of the Quakers. 

If we were to go into the company of persons of a certain class in themetropolis, we should find them deriving the enjoyments of conversationfrom some such subjects as the following. One of the company wouldprobably talk of the exquisitely fine manner, in which an actressperformed her part on a certain night. This, would immediately givebirth to a variety of remarks. The name of one actress would bring upthat of another, and the name of one play that of another, till atlength the stage would become the source of supplying a subject for aconsiderable time. Another would probably ask, as soon as thistheatrical discussion was over, the opinion of the company on thesubject of the duel, which the morning papers had reported to have takenplace. This new subject would give new fuel to the fire, and newdiscussions would take place, and new observations fly about from allquarters. Some would applaud the courage of the person, who had beenkilled. Others would pity his hard fate. But none would censure hiswickedness for having resorted to such dreadful means for thedetermination of his dispute. From this time the laws of honour would becanvassed, and disquisitions about punctilio, and etiquette, and honour, would arrest the attention of the company, and supply them withmaterials for a time. These subjects would be followed by observationson fashionable head-dresses, by the relation of elopements, by thereports of affairs of gallantry. Each subject would occupy its ownportion of time. Thus each would help to swell up the measure ofconversation, and to make up the enjoyment of the visit. 

If we were to go among persons of another class in the metropolis, weshould probably find them collecting their entertainment from othertopics. One would talk on the subject of some splendid route. He wouldexpatiate on the number of rooms that were opened, on the superb manner, in which they were fitted up, and on the sum of money that was expendedin procuring every delicacy that was out of season. A second wouldprobably ask, if it were really known, how much one of their femaleacquaintance had lost at faro. A third would make observations on thedresses at the last drawing room. A fourth would particularize theliveries brought out by individuals on the birth-day. A fifth would ask, who was to have the vacant red ribbon. Another would tell, how theminister had given a certain place to a certain nobleman's third son, and would observe, that the whole family were now provided for bygovernment. Each of these topics would be enlarged upon, as successivelystarted, and thus conversation would be kept going during the time ofthe visit. 

These and other subjects generally constitute the pleasures ofconversation among certain classes of persons. But among the Quakers, they can hardly ever intrude themselves at all. Places and pensions theyneither do, nor can, hold. Levees and drawing rooms they neither do, norwould consent to, attend, on pleasure. Red ribbons they would not wearif given to them. Indeed, very few of the society know what theseinsignia mean. As to splendid liveries, these would never occupy theirattention. Liveries for servants, though not expressly forbidden, arenot congenial with the Quaker-system; and as to gaming, plays, orfashionable amusements, these are forbidden, as I have amply statedbefore, by the laws of the society. 

It is obvious then, that these topics cannot easily enter intoconversation, where Quakers are. Indeed, nothing so trifling, ridiculous, or disgusting, occupies their minds. The subjects, thattake up their attention, are of a more solid and useful kind. There is adignity, in general, in the Quaker-conversation, arising from the natureof these subjects, and from the gravity and decorum with which it isalways conducted. It is not to be inferred from hence, that theirconversation is dull and gloomy. There is often no want ofsprightliness, wit, and humour. But then this sprightliness, neverborders upon folly, for all foolish jesting is to be avoided, and it isalways decorous. When vivacity makes its appearance among the Quakers;it is sensible, and it is uniformly in an innocent and decent dress. 

In the company of the Quakers a circumstance sometimes occurs, of sopeculiar a nature, that it cannot be well omitted in this place. Itsometimes happens, that you observe a pause in the conversation. Thispause continues. Surprized at the universal silence now prevailing, youlook round, and find all the Quakers in the room apparently thoughtful. The history of the circumstance is this. In the course of theconversation the mind of some one of the persons present has been soovercome with the weight or importance of it, or so overcome by inwardsuggestions or other subjects, as to have given himself up tomeditation, or to passive obedience to the impressions upon his mind. This person is soon discovered by the rest on account of his particularsilence and gravity. From this moment the Quakers in company cease toconverse. They become habitually silent, and continue so, both old andyoung, to give the apparently meditating person an opportunity ofpursuing uninterruptedly the train of his own thoughts. Perhaps, in thecourse of his meditations, the subject, that impressed his mind, gradually dies away, and expires in silence. In this case you find himresuming his natural position, and returning to conversation with thecompany as before. It sometimes happens, however, that, in the midst ofhis meditations, he feels an impulse to communicate to those present thesubject of his thoughts, and breaks forth, seriously explaining, exhorting, and advising, as the nature of it permits and suggests. Whenhe has finished his observations, the company remain silent for a shorttime, after which they converse again as before. 

Such a pause, whenever it occurs in the company of the Quakers, may beconsidered as a devotional act. For the subject, which occasions it, isalways of a serious or religious nature. The workings in the mind of themeditating person are considered either as the offspring of a solemnreflection upon that subject, suddenly and almost involuntarily as itwere produced by duty, or as the immediate offspring of the agency ofthe spirit. And an habitual silence is as much the consequence, as ifthe person present had been at a place of worship. 

It may be observed, however, that such pauses seldom or never occur inordinary companies, or where Quakers ordinarily visit one another. Whenthey take place, it is mostly when a minister is present, and when sucha minister is upon a religious visit to families of a certain district. In such a case such religious pauses and exhortations are notunfrequent. A man however may be a hundred times in the company of theQuakers, and never be present at one of them, and never know indeed thatthey exist at all. 

CHAP. VI. 

_Custom before meals--ancients formerly made an oblation to Vesta beforetheir meals--Christians have substituted grace--Quakers agree withothers in the necessity of grace or thankfulness-but do not adopt it asa devotional act, unless it comes from the heart--allow a silent pausefor religious impressions on these occasions--observations on a Scotchgrace. _

There was a time in the early ages of Greece, when men apparently littlebetter than beasts of prey, could not meet at entertainments, withoutquarrelling about the victuals before them. The memory of thiscircumstance is well preserved in the expressions of early writers. Inprocess of time however, regulations began to be introduced, andquarrels to be prevented, by the institution of the office of a divideror distributer of the feast, who should carve the food into equalportions, and help every individual to his proper share. Hence the terms[Greek: Aatfrn] or equal feast, which so frequently occur in Homer, andwhich were in use in consequence of the division just mentioned, weremade use of to shew, that the feasts, then spoken of by him, weredifferent from those of former times. When Homer wishes to describepersons as more civilized than others, he describes them as having thisequal feast. That is, men did not appear at these feasts, like dogs andwolves, and instantly devour whatever they could come at, and tear eachother to pieces in the end; but they waited till their differentportions of meat had been assigned them, and then ate them in amity andpeace. 

At the time when we find the custom of one man carving for all hisguests to have been in use, we find also that another had beenintroduced among the same people. The Greeks, in the heroic ages, thought it unlawful to eat, till they had first offered a part of theirprovision to the gods. Hence oblations to Vesta, and afterwards toothers, whom their superstition had defied, came into general use, sothat these were always made, before the victuals on the table wereallowed to be tasted by any of the guests. 

These two customs, since that time, have come regularly down to thepresent day. Every person helps his family and his friends at his owntable. But as Christians can make no sacrifices to heathen deities, weusually find them substituting thanksgiving for oblation, and giving tothe Creator of the universe instead of an offering of the first fruitsfrom their tables, an offering of gratitude from their hearts. 

This oblation, which is now usually denominated grace, consists of aform of words, which, being expressive either of praise or thankfulnessto God for the blessings of food, with which he continues to supplythem, is repeated by the master of the family, or by a minister of thegospel if present, before any one partakes of the victuals, that are setbefore him. These forms, however, differ, as used by Christians. Theydiffer in length, in ideas, in expression. One Christian uses one form, another uses another. It may however be observed, that the sameChristian generally uses the same form of words, or the same grace, onthe same occasion. 

The Quakers, as a religious body, agree in the propriety of grace beforetheir meals, that is in the propriety of giving thanks to the author ofevery good gift for this particular bounty of his providence as to thearticles of their daily subsistence, but they differ as to the mannerand seasonableness of it on such occasions. They think that people whoare in the habit of repeating a determined form of words, may cease tofeel, as they pronounce them, in which case the grace becomes anoblation from the tongue, but not from the heart. They think also that, if grace is to be repeated regularly, just as the victuals come, or asregularly and as often as they come upon the table, it may be repeatedunseasonably, that is unseasonably with the state of the heart of him, who is to pronounce it; that the heart of man is not to-day as it wasyesterday, nor at this hour what it was at a former, nor on any givenhour alike disposed; and that if this grace is to be said when the heartis gay, or light, or volatile, it ceases to be a devotional act, andbecomes at least a superflous and unmeaning, if not a censurable form. 

The Quakers then to avoid the unprofitableness of such artificialgraces on the one hand, and, on the other, to give an opportunity to theheart to accord with the tongue, whenever it is used in praise of theCreator, observe the following custom. When they are all seated attable, they sit in solemn silence, and in a thoughtful position, forsome time. If the master of the family, during this silence, should feelany religious impression on his mind, whether of praise or thankfulnesson the occasion, he gives utterance to his feelings. Such praise orthanksgiving in him is considered as a devotional act, and as the Quakergrace. But if, after having waited in silence for some time, he feels nosuch religious disposition, he utters no religious expression. TheQuakers hold it better to say no grace, than to say that, which is notaccompanied by the devotion of the heart. In this case he resumes hisnatural position, breaks the silence by means of natural discourse, andbegins to carve for his family or his friends. 

This is the ordinary way of proceeding in Quaker families, when alone, or in ordinary company. But if a minister happens to be at the table, the master of the family, conceiving such a man to be more in the habitof religious impressions than himself, or any ordinary person, looks upas it were to him, as to a channel, from whence it is possible, thatsuch religious exercise may come. If the minister, during the solemn, silent pause, is impressed, he gives utterance as before: if not, herelieves himself from his grave and thoughtful position, and breaks thesilence of the company by engaging in natural discourse. After this thecompany proceed to their meals. 

If I were to be asked whether the graces of the Quakers were frequent, Ishould reply in the negative. I never heard any delivered, but when aminister was present. The ordinary grace therefore of private familiesconsists in a solemn, silent, pause, between the time of sitting down tothe table and the note of carving the victuals, during which anopportunity is given for the excitement of religious feelings. A personmay dine fifty times at the tables of the Quakers, and see no othersubstitution for grace than this temporary silent pause. 

Indeed no other grace than this can be consistent withQuaker-principles. It was coeval with the institution of the society, and must continue while it lasts. For thanksgiving is an act ofdevotion. Now no act, in the opinion of the Quakers, can be devotionalor spiritual, except it originate from above. Men, in religious matterscan do nothing of themselves, or without the divine aid. And they musttherefore wait in silence for this spiritual help, as well in the caseof grace, as in the case of any other kind of devotion, if they meantheir praise or thanksgiving on such occasions to be an act of religion. 

There is in the Quaker-grace, and its accompaniments, whenever it isuttered, an apparent beauty and an apparent solemnity, which are seldomconspicuous in those of others. How few are there, who repeat the commonartificial graces feelingly, and with minds intent upon the subject!Grace is usually said as a mere ceremony or custom. The Supreme Being isjust thanked in so many words, while the thoughts are often rambling toother subjects. The Quaker-grace, on the other hand, whenever it isuttered; does not come out in any mechanical form of words which menhave used before, but in expressions adapted to the feelings. It comesforth also warm from the heart. It comes after a solemn, silent, pause, and it becomes therefore, under all these circumstances, an act of realsolemnity and genuine devotion. 

It is astonishing how little even men of acknowledged piety seem to havetheir minds fixed upon the ideas contained in the mechanical graces theyrepeat. I was one afternoon at a friends house, where there happened tobe a clergyman of the Scottish church. He was a man deservedly esteemedfor his piety. The company was large. Politics had been discussed sometime, when the tea-things were introduced. While the bread and butterwere bringing in, the clergyman, who had taken an active part in thediscussion, put a question to a gentleman, who was sitting in a cornerof the room. The gentleman began to reply, and was proceeding in hisanswer, when of a sudden I heard a solemn voice. Being surprised, Ilooked round, and found it was the clergyman, who had suddenly startedup, and was saying grace. The solemnity, with which he spoke, occasionedhis voice to differ so much from its ordinary tone, that I did not, tillI had looked about me, discover who the speaker was. I think he might beengaged from three or four minutes in the delivery of this grace. Icould not help thinking, during the delivery of it, that I never knewany person say grace like this man. Nor was I ever so much moved withany grace, or thought I ever saw so dearly the propriety of sayinggrace, as on this occasion. But when I found that on the very instantthe grace was over politics were resumed; when I found that, no soonerhad the last word in the grace been pronounced, than the next, whichcame from the clergyman himself, began by desiring the gentleman beforementioned to go on with his reply to his own political question, I wasso struck with the inconsistency of the thing, that the beauty andsolemnity of his grace all vanished. This sudden transition frompolitics to grace, and from grace to politics, afforded a proof thatartificial sentences might be so frequently repeated, as to fail tore-excite their first impressions, or that certain expressions, whichmight have constituted devotional acts under devotional feeling, mightrelapse into heartless forms. 

I should not wish, by the relation of this anecdote, to be understood asreflecting in the slightest manner on the practice of the Scottishchurch. I know well the general sobriety, diligence, piety and religiousexample of its ministers. I mentioned it merely to shew, that even wherethe religious character of a person was high, his mind, by the frequentrepetition of the same forms of expression on the same occasions, mightfrequently lose sight of the meaning and force of the words as they wereuttered, so that he might pronounce them without that spiritual feeling, which can alone constitute a religious exercise. 

CHAP. VII. 

_Customs at and after meals--Quakers never drink healths at dinner--nortoasts after dinner--the drinking of toasts a heathen custom--interruptsoften the innocence--and leads to the intoxication of the company--anecdoteof Judge Hale--Quakers sometimes in embarrassing situations on account ofthis omission--Quaker-women seldom retire after dinner, and leave the mendrinking--Quakers a sober people. _

The Quakers though they are occasionally found in the custom of sayinggrace, do not, as I have stated, either use it as regularly, or in thesame manner as other christians. 

Neither do they at their meals, or after their meals, use the sameceremonies as others. They have exploded the unmeaning and troublesomecustom of drinking healths at their dinners. 

This custom the Quakers have rejected upon the principle, that it has noconnection with true civility. They consider it as officious, troublesome, and even embarrassing, on some occasions. To drink to aman, when he is lifting his victuals to his mouth, and by calling offhis attention, to make him drop them, or to interrupt two people, whoare eating and talking together, and to break the thread of theirdiscourse, seems to be an action, as rude in its principle, asdisagreeable in its effects, nor is the custom often less troublesome tothe person drinking the health, than to the person whose health isdrank. If a man finds two people engaged in conversation he must waittill he catches their eyes, before he can drink himself. A man may alsooften be put into a delicate and difficult situation, to know whom todrink to first, and whom second, and may be troubled, lest, by drinkingimproperly to one before another, he may either be reputed awkward, ormay become the occasion of offence. They consider also the custom ofdrinking healths at dinner as unnecessary, and as tending to no usefulend. It must be obvious that a man may wish another his health, full asmuch without drinking it, as by drinking it with his glass in his hand. And it must be equally obvious that wishes, expressed in this manner, can have no medicinal effect. 

With respect to the custom of drinking healths at dinner, I may observethat the innovation, which the Quakers seem to have been the first tohave made upon the practice of it, has been adopted by many, not out ofcompliance with their example, but on account of the trouble andinconveniences attending it; that the custom is not now so general as itwas; that in the higher and more fashionable circles it has nearly beenexploded; and that, among some of the other classes of society, it isgradually declining. 

With respect to the custom of drinking toasts after dinner, the Quakershave rejected it for various reasons. 

They have rejected it first, because, however desirable it may be thatChristians should follow the best customs of the heathens, it would be areproach to them to follow the worst. Or, in other words, it would beimproper for men, whose religion required spirituality of thought andfeeling, to imitate the heathens in the manner of their enjoyment ofsensual pleasures. The laws and customs of drinking, the Quakersobserve, are all of heathen origin. The similitude between these andthose of modern tunes is too remarkable to be overlooked; and toostriking not to warrant them in concluding, that christens have takentheir model on this subject from Pagan practice. 

In every Grecian family, where company was invited, the master of it wasconsidered to be the king or president of the feast, in his own house. He was usually denominated the eye of the company. It was one of hisoffices to look about and to see that his guests drank their properportions of the wine. It was another to keep peace and harmony amongthem. For these purposes his word was law. At entertainments at thepublic expence the same office existed, but the person, then appointedto it, was nominated either by lot, or by the votes of the personspresent. --This custom obtains among the moderns. The master of everyfamily at the present day presides at his own table for the samepurposes. And at great and public dinners at taverns, a similar officeris appointed, who is generally chosen by the committee, who first meetfor the proposal of the feast. 

One of the first toasts, that were usually drank among the ancientGreeks, was to the "gods. " This entirely corresponds with the modernidea of church; and if the government had been only coupled with thegods in these ancient times, it would have precisely answered to themodern toast of church and state. 

It was also usual at the entertainments, given by Grecian families, todrink the prosperity of those persons, for whom they entertained afriendship, but who happened to be absent. No toast can better coincidethan this, with that, which is so frequently given, of our absentfriends. 

It was also a Grecian practice for each of the guests to name hisparticular friend, and sometimes also his particular mistress. Themoderns have also a parallel for this. Every person gives (to use thecommon phrase) his gentleman, and his lady, in his turn. 

It is well known to have been the usage of the ancient Greeks, at theirentertainments, either to fill or to have had their cups filled for themto the brim. The moderns do precisely the same thing. Glasses sofilled, have the particular name of bumpers: and however vigilantly anancient Greek might have looked after his guests, and made them drinktheir glasses filled in this manner, the presidents of modern times areequally vigilant in enforcing adherence to the same custom. 

It was an ancient practice also with the same people to drink threeglasses when the graces, and nine when the muses were named: and threeand three times three were drank on particular occasions. This barbarouspractice has fortunately not come down to the moderns to its fullextent, but they have retained the remembrance of it, and celebrated itin part, by following up their toasts, on any extraordinary occasion, not with three or nine glasses of wine, but with three or nine cheers. 

Among the ancients beforementioned, if any of the persons present werefound deficient in drinking their proper portions, they were ordered bythe president either to drink them or to leave the room. This usage hasbeen a little altered by the moderns. They do not order those persons toleave the company, who do not comply with the same rules of drinking asthe rest, but they subject them to be fined, as it is termed, that is, they oblige them to drink double portions for their deficiency, orpunish them in some other manner. 

From hence it will be obvious that the laws of drinking are of heathenorigin; that is, the custom of drinking toasts originated, as theQuakers contend, with men of heathen minds and affections for a sensualpurpose; and it is therefore a custom, they believe; which men ofchristian minds and affections should never follow. 

The Quakers have rejected the custom again, because they consider it tobe inconsistent with their christian character in other respects. Theyconsider it as morally injurious; for toasts frequently excite andpromote indelicate ideas, and thus sometimes interrupt the innocence ofconversation. 

They consider it as morally injurious again, because the drinking oftoasts has a direct tendency to promote drunkenness. 

They, who have been much in company, must have had repeatedopportunities of witnessing, that this idea of the Quakers is founded intruth, men are undoubtedly stimulated to drink more than they like, andto become intoxicated in consequence of the use of toasts. If a man hasno objection to drink toasts at all, he must drink that which the masterof the house proposes, and it is usual in this case to fill a bumper. Respect to his host is considered as demanding this. Thus one full glassis secured to him at the outset. He must also drink a bumper to theking, another to church and state, and another to the army and navy. Hewould, in many companies, be thought hostile to government, if, in thehabit of drinking toasts, he were to refuse to drink these, or to honourthese in the same manner. Thus three additional glasses are entailedupon him. He must also drink a bumper to his own toast. He would bethought to dishonour the person, whose health he had given, if he wereto fail in this. Thus a fifth glass is added to his share. He must filla little besides to every other toast, or he is considered as deficientin respect to the person, who has proposed it. Thus many additionalglasses are forced upon him. By this time the wine begins to act, whennew toasts, of a new nature assail his ear, and he is stimulated to newpotions. There are many toasts of so patriotic, and others of sogenerous and convivial a nature that a man is looked upon asdisaffected, or as devoid of sentiment, who refuses them. Add to this, that there is a sort of shame, which the young and generous inparticular feel in being outdone, and in not keeping pace with the rest, on such occasions. Thus toast being urged after toast, and shame actingupon shame, a variety of causes conspires at the same moment to drivehim on, till the liquor at length overcomes him and he falls eventuallya victim to its power. 

It will be manifest from this account that the laws of drinking, bywhich the necessity of drinking a certain number of toasts is enjoined, by which bumpers are attached to certain classes of toasts, by which astigma is affixed to a non-compliance with the terms, by which in fact aregular system of etiquette is established, cannot but lead, except aman is uncommonly resolute or particularly on his guard, tointoxication. We see indeed instances of men drinking glass after glass, because stimulated in this manner, even against their own inclination, nay even against the determination they had made before they went intocompany, till they have made themselves quite drunk. But had there beenno laws of drinking, or no toasts, we cannot see any reason why the samepersons should not have returned sober to their respective homes. 

It is recorded of the great Sir Matthew Hale, who is deservedly placedamong the great men of our country, that in his early youth he had beenin company, where the party had drunk to such excess, that one of themfell down apparently dead. Quitting the room, he implored forgiveness ofthe Almighty for this excessive intemperance in himself and hiscompanions, and made a vow, that he would never drink another healthwhile he lived. This vow he kept to his dying day. It is hardlynecessary for me to remark that he would never have come to such aresolution, if he had not believed, either that the drinking of toastshad produced the excesses of that day, or that the custom led sonaturally to intoxication, that it became his duty to suppress it. 

The Quakers having rejected the use of toasts upon the principlesassigned, are sometimes placed in a difficult situation, in which thereis an occasion for the trial of their courage, in consequence of mixingwith others, by whom the custom is still followed. 

In companies, to which they are invited in regular families, they areseldom put to any disagreeable dilemma in this respect. The master ofthe house, if in the habit of giving toasts, generally knowing thecustom of the Quakers in this instance, passes over any Quaker who maybe present, and calls upon his next neighbour for a toast. Good breedingand hospitality demand that such indulgence and exception should begiven. 

There are situations, however, in which their courage is often tried. One of the worst in which a a Quaker can be placed, and in which he isfrequently placed, is that of being at a common room in an inn, where anumber of other travellers dine and sup together. In such companiesthings are seldom conducted so much to his satisfaction in this respect, as in those described. In general as the bottle passes, some jocose hintis conveyed to him about the toast; and though this is perhaps done withgood humour, his feelings are wounded by it. At other times when thecompany are of a less liberal complexion, there is a determination, soonunderstood among one another, to hunt him down, as if he were fair game. A toast is pressed upon him, though all know that it is not his customto drink it. On refusing, they begin to teaze him. One jokes with him. Another banters him. Toasts both illiberal and indelicate, are at lengthintroduced; and he has no alternative but that of bearing the banter, orquitting the room. I have seen a Quaker in such a company (and at such adistance from home, that the transaction in all probability never couldhave been known, had he, in order to free himself from their attacks, conformed to their custom) bearing all their raillery with astonishingfirmness, and courageously struggling against the stream. It iscertainly an awkward thing for a solitary Quaker to fall in suchcompanies, and it requires considerable courage to preserve singularityin the midst of the prejudices of ignorant and illiberal men. 

This custom, however, of drinking toasts after dinner, is, like theformer of drinking healths at dinner, happily declining. It is much tothe credit of those, who move in the higher circles, that they havegenerally exploded both. It may be probably owing to this circumstance, that though we find persons of this description labouring under theimputation of levity and dissipation, we yet find them respectable forthe sobriety of their lives. Drunkenness indeed forms no part of theircharacter, nor, generally speaking, is it a vice of the present age asit has been of former ages; and there seems to be little doubt, that inproportion as the custom of drinking healths and toasts, but moreparticularly the latter, is suppressed, this vice will become less atrait in the national character. 

There are one or two customs of the Quakers, which I shall notice beforeI conclude this chapter. 

It is one of the fashions of the world, where people meet in company, for men and women, when the dinner is over, to drink their winetogether, and for the women, having done this for a short time, toretire. This custom of the females withdrawing after dinner was probablyfirst insisted upon from an idea, that their presence would be arestraint upon the circulation of the bottle, as well as upon theconversation of the men. The Quakers, however, seldom submit to thispractice. Men and women generally sit together and converse as beforedinner. I do not mean by this that women may not retire if they please, because there is no restraint upon any one in the company of theQuakers; nor do I mean to say, that women do not occasionally retire, and leave the men at their wine. There are a few rich families, which, having mixed more than usual with the world, allow of this separation. But where one allows it, there are ninety-nine, who give wine to theircompany after dinner, who do not. It is not a Quaker-custom, that in agiven time after dinner, the one should be separated from the other sex. 

It is a pity that the practice of the Quakers should not have beenadopted by others of our own country in this particular. Many advantageswould result to those, who were to follow the example. For if women wereallowed to remain, chastity of expression and decorum of behaviour wouldbe more likely to be insured. There presence also would operate as acheck upon drunkenness. Nor can there be a doubt, that women wouldenliven and give a variety to conversation; and, as they have had adifferent education from men, that an opportunity of mutual improvementmight be afforded by the continuance of the two in the society of oneanother. 

It is also usual with the world in such companies, that the men, whenthe females have retired, should continue drinking till tea-time. Thiscustom is unknown to the Quakers, even to those few Quakers, who allowof a separation of the sexes. It is not unusual with them to propose awalk before tea, if the weather permit. But even in the case where theyremain at the table, their time is spent rather in conversing than indrinking. They have no toasts, as I have observed, which should inducethem to put the bottle round in a given time, or which should obligethem to take a certain number of glasses. The bottle, however, isusually put round, and each helps himself as he pleases. At length oneof the guests, having had sufficient, declines filling his glass. Another, in a little time, declines also for the same cause. A third, after having taken what he thinks sufficient, follows the example. Thewine is soon afterwards taken away, and this mostly long before the hourof drinking tea. Neither drunkenness, nor any situation approaching todrunkenness, is known in the Quaker companies. Excess in drinking isstrictly forbidden by the laws of the society. It is a subject of one oftheir queries. It is of course a subject that is often brought to theirrecollection. Whatever may be the faults of the Quakers, they must beacknowledged to be a SOBER PEOPLE. 

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.