However, if in this point I may be mistaken, there is another in which I think I cannot; and that is, that it is at least a pardonable ambition, in which I shall certainly stand acquitted by every one who knows your character, the delicacy of your taste in the choice of your friends, and the real honour it does to those you are pleased to admit into that number. But, even this, sir, your penetration will soon discover to proceed from the same vanity I before suspected myself to be guilty of. And the world will judge, that I speak it rather to do myself honour than you. However, I am beforehand with them in the observation. And that I may not be tempted, in this address, to enhance your character (according to the usual style of dedications) in order to do honour to my own, and at once oppress your modesty and expose my vanity, I shall put an end to it without so much as attempting to describe a character, which I shall, however, always aim to imitate. But that you may continue to adorn that public and useful station you are in; and long live a patron and pattern of solid and disinterested virtue; and that your many charitable offices, and good works on earth, may meet with a large and late reward in heaven, is the hearty prayer of, SIR, Your much obliged, and orking, Jan. 31, 1744-5. ; PREFACE. THE subject of the ensuing treatise is of great importance; and yet I do rot remember to have seen it Cultivated with that precision, perspicuity, and force, with which many other moral and theological themes have been managed. And indeed it is but rarely that we find it professedly and fully recommended to us in a set and regular discourse, either from the pulpit or the press. This consideration, together with a full persua» sion of its great and extensive usefulness, hath excited the present attempt to render it more familiar to the minds of Christians. Mr. Baxter, indeed, has a treatise on this subject, entitled, The Mischief of Self Ignorance, and the Benefit of Self Acquaintance. And I freely acknowledge some helps I have received from him. But he hath handled it (according to his manner) in so lax and diffuse a way, introducing so many things into it that are foreign from ît, omitting others that properly belong to it, and skimming over some with a too superficial notice, that I own I found myself much disappointed in what I expected from him; and was convinced that something more correct, nervous, and methodical, was wanting on this subject. I am far from having the vanity to think that this which I now offer to the public, is entirely free from those faults which I have remarked in that pious and excellent author; and am sensible, that if I do not fall under a much heavier censure myself, it must be owing to the great candour of my reader, which he will be convinced I have some title to, if he but duly consider the nature and extent of the subject. For it is almost impossible to let the thoughts run freely upon so copious and comprehensive a theme, in order to do justice to it, without taking too large a scope in some particulars that have a close connexion with it; as I fear I have done (Part I. Chap. XIV.) concerning the knowledge, guard and government of the thoughts. But there is a great difference between a short, occasional and useful digression, and a wide rambling from the subject, by following the impulse of a luxuriant fancy. A judicious taste can hardly excuse the latter; though it may be content the author should gather a few flowers out of the common road, provided he soon returns into it again. This brings to my mind another thing, for which, I am sure, I have great reason to claim the reader's indulgence; and that is, the free use I have made of some of the ancient heathen writers,* in my marginal quotations, which I own looks like an ostentation of reading, which I alwys abhorred. But it was conversing with those authors that first turned my thoughts to this subject. And the good sense I met with in most of their aphorisms and sentiments, gave me an esteem for them; and made it difficult for me to resist the temptation of transcribing several of them, which I thought pertinent to the matter in hand. But after all, I am ashamed to see what an old-fashioned figure they make in the margin. However, if the reader thinks they will too much interrupt the` *These notes are omitted in this edition, on account of their being in the Latin and Greek languages; consequently would increase the pricè, without benefit to common readers. course of the subject, he may entirely omit them; though by that means he will perhaps lose the benefit of some of the finest sentiments in the book. I remember a modern writer, I have very lately read, is grievously offended with Mr. Addison for so much as mentioning the name of Plato, and presuming in one of his Spectators to deliver his notions of humour in a kind of allegory, after the manner of that Greek author; which he calls a formal method of trifling, introduced uuder a deep ostentation of learning, which deserves the severest rebuke. And perhaps a more severe one was never given upon so small a provocation. From gentlemen of so refined and delicate a taste I can expect no mercy. But the public is to judge, whether this be not as culpable an affectation as the contrary one, which prevailed so much in the last century. One great view I had in mine eye, when I put these thoughts together, was the benefit of youth, and especially those of them that are students and candidates for the sacred ministry; for which they will find no science more immediately necessary (next to a good acquaintance with the word of God) than that which is recommended to them in the following treatise; to which every branch of human literature is subordinate, and ought to be subservient. For certain it is, the great end of philosophy, both natural and moral, is to know ourselves and to know GOD. The highest learning is to be wise, and the greatest wisdom is to be good; as Marcus Antoninus somewhere observes. It has often occurred to my mind, in digesting my thoughts upon this subject, what a pity it is that this most useful science should be so generally neglected in the modern methods of education; and that preceptors and tutors, both in public and private seminaries of learning, should forget that the forming the manners is more necessary to a finished education than furnishing the minds of youth. Socrates, who made all his philosophy subservient to morality, was of this sentiment; and took more pains to rectify the tempers than replenish the understandings of his pupils; and looked upon all knowledge as useless speculation, that was not brought to this end, to make us wiser and better men. And without doubt, if in the academy the youth has onc、 happily learned the great art of managing his temper, governing his passions, and guarding his foibles, he will find a more solid advantage from it in after life, than he could expect from the best acquaintance with all the systems of ancient and modern philosophy. It was a very just and sensible answer, which Agesilaus, the Spartan King, returned to one who asked him, What it was in which youth ought principally to be instructed? He replied, That which they have most need to practise when they are men. Were this single rule but carefully attended to in the method of education, it might probably be conducted in a manner much more to the advantage of our youth than it ordinarily is. For, as Dr. Fuller observes, that pains we take in books or arts, which treat of things remote from the use of life, is but a busy idleness. And what is there in life which youth will have more frequent occasion to practise than this? What is there which they afterwards more regret the want of? What is there in which they want more direction and assistance than the right government of their passions and prejudices? And what more proper season to receive those assistances, and to lay a foundation for this difficult but very important science, than the early part of youth? |