One might run the parallel much farther, but this may be sufficient to shew how dangerous and delusive these mistakes are — how apt to mislead and overset weak minds, which are ever apt to be caught by the pomp of such external parts of religion. — This is so evident, that even in our own church, where there is the greatest chastity in things of this nature — and of which none are retained in our worship, but what I believe, tend to excite and assist it — yet so strong a propensity is there in our nature to sense — and so unequal a match is the understanding of the bulk of mankind, for the impressions of outward things — that we see thousands who every day mistake the shadow for the substance, and was it fairly put to the trial would exchange the reality for the appearance.
You see, this was almost universally the case of the Jewish church — where, for want of proper guard and distinction betwixt the means of religion and religion itself, the ceremonial part in time eat away the moral part, and left nothing but a shadow behind.— ’Tis to be feared the buffooneries of the Romish church, bid fair to do it the same ill office, to the disgrace and utter ruin of christianity wherever popery is established. What then remains, but that we rectify these gross and pernicious notions of religion, and place it upon its true bottom, which we can only do, by bringing back religion to that cool point of reason which first shewed us its obligation — by always remembering that GOD is a spirit — and must be worshipped suitable to his nature, i. e. in spirit and in truth — and that the most acceptable sacrifice we can offer him is a virtuous and an upright mind — and however necessary it is, not to leave the ceremonial and positive parts of religion undone — yet not like the pharisee to rest there — and omit the weightier matters, but keep this in view perpetually, that though the instrumental duties are duties of unquestionable obligation to us — yet they are still but INSTRUMENTAL DUTIES, conducive to the great end of all religion — which is to purify our hearts — and conquer our passions — and in a word, to make us wiser and better men — better neighbours — better citizens — and better servants to GOD. — To whom, &c.
SERMON VII. VINDICATION OF HUMAN NATURE.
ROMANS XIV. 7.
For none of us liveth to himself.
THERE is not a sentence in scripture, which strikes a narrow soul with greater astonishment — and one might as easily engage to clear up the darkest problem in geometry to an ignorant mind, as make a sordid one comprehend the truth and reasonableness of this plain proposition. — No man liveth to himself! Why — Does any man live to any thing else? — In the whole compass of human life can a prudent man steer to a safer point? — Not live to himself? — To whom then? — Can any interests or concerns which are foreign to a man’s self have such a claim over him, that he must serve under them — suspend his own pursuits — step out of his right course, till others have pass’d by him, and attain’d the several ends and purposes of living before him?
If, with a selfish heart, such an enquirer should happen to have a speculating head too, he will proceed, and ask you whether this same principle which the apostle here throws out of the life of man, is not in fact the grand bias of his nature? — That however we may flatter ourselves with fine-spun notions of disinterestedness and heroism in what we do; that were the most popular of our actions strip’d naked; and the true motives and intentions of them search’d to the bottom; we should find little reason for triumph upon that score. —
In a word, he will say, that a man is altogether a bubble to himself in this matter, and that after all that can be said in his behalf, the truest definition that can be given of him is this, that he is a selfish animal; and that all his actions have so strong a tincture of that character, as to shew (to whomever else he was intended to live) that in fact, he lives only to himself.
Before I reply directly to this accusation, I cannot help observing by the way, that there is scarce any thing which has done more disservice to social virtue, than the frequent representations of human nature, under this hideous picture of deformity, which by leaving out all that is generous and friendly in the heart of man, has sunk him below the level of a brute, as if he was a composition of all that was mean-spirited and selfish. Surely, ’tis one step towards acting well, to think worthily of our nature; and as in common life, the way to make a man honest, is, to suppose him so, and treat him as such; — so here, to set some value upon ourselves, enables us to support the character, and even inspires and adds sentiments of generosity and virtue to those which we have already preconceived. The scripture tells, That GOD made man in his own image, — not surely in the sensitive and corporeal part of him, that could bear no resemblance with a pure and infinite spirit, — but what resemblance he bore was undoubtedly in the moral rectitude, and the kind and benevolent affections of his nature. And tho’ the brightness of this image has been sullied greatly by the fall of man, in our first parents, and the characters of it rendered still less legible, by the many super-inductions of his own depraved appetites since— ‘yet tis a laudable pride and a true greatness of mind to cherish a belief, that there is so much of that glorious image still left upon it, as shall restrain him from base and disgraceful actions; to answer which end, what thought can be more conducive than that, of our being made in the likeness of the greatest and best of beings? This is a plain consequence. And the consideration of it should have in some measure been a protection to human nature, from the rough usage she has met with from the satirical pens of so many of the French writers, as well as of our own country, who with more wit than well-meaning have desperately fallen foul upon the whole species, as a set of creatures incapable either of private friendship or public spirit, but just as the case suited their own interest and advantage.
That there is selfishness, and meanness enough in the souls of one part of the world, to hurt the credit of the other part of it, is what I shall not dispute against; but to judge of the whole, from this bad sample, and because one man is plotting and artful in his nature — or, a second openly makes his pleasure or his profit the sole centre of all his designs — or because a third strait-hearted wretch sits confined within himself, — feels no misfortunes, but those which touch himself; to involve the whole race without mercy under such detested characters, is a conclusion as false, as it is pernicious; and was it in general to gain credit, could serve no end, but the rooting out of our nature all that is generous, and planting in the stead of it such an aversion to each other, as must untie the bands of society, and rob us of one of the greatest pleasures of it, the mutual communications of kind offices; and by poisoning the fountain, rendering every thing suspected that flows through it.
To the honor of human nature, the scripture teaches us, that God made man upright — and though he has since found out many inventions, which have much dishonoured this noble structure, yet the foundation of it stands as it was, — the whole frame and design of it carried on upon social virtue and public spirit, and every member of us so evidently supported by this strong cement, that we may say with the apostle, that no man liveth to himself. In whatsoever light we view him, we shall see evidently, that there is no station or condition of his life, — no office or relation, or circumstance, but there arises from it so many ties, so many indispensible claims upon him, as must perpetually carry him beyond any selfish consideration, and shew plainly, that was a man foolishly wicked enough to design to live to himself alone, he would either find it impracticable, or he would lose, at least, the very thing which made life itself desirable. We know that our creator, like an all-wise contriver in this, as in all other of his works has implanted in mankind such appetites and inclinations as were suitable for their state; that is, such as would naturally lead him to the love of society and friendship, without which he would have been found in a worse condition than the very beasts of the field. No one therefore who lives in society, can be said to live to himself, — he lives to his GOD, — to his king, and his country. — He lives to his family, to his friends, to all under his trust, and in a word, he lives to the
whole race of mankind; whatsoever has the character of man, and wears the same image of GOD that he does, is truly his brother, and has a just claim to his kindness. — That this is the case in fact, as well as in theory, may be made plain to any one, who has made any observations upon human life. — When we have traced it through all its connections, — view’d it under the several obligations which succeed each other in a perpetual rotation through the different stages of a hasty pilgrimage, we shall find that these do operate so strongly upon it, and lay us justly under so many restraints, that we are every hour sacrificing something to society, in return for the benefits we receive from it.
To illustrate this, let us take a short survey of the life of any one man, (not liable to great exceptions, but such a life as is common to most) let us examine it merely to this point, and try how far it will answer such a representation.
If we begin with him in that early age, wherein the strongest marks of undisguised tenderness and disinterested compassion shew themselves, — I might previously observe, with what impressions he is come out of the hands of GOD, — with the very bias upon his nature, which prepares him for the character, which he was designed to fulfil. — But let us pass by the years which denote childhood, as no lawful evidence, you’ll say, in this dispute; let us follow him to the period, when he is just got loose from tutors and governors, when his actions may be argued upon with less exception. If you observe, you will find, that one of the first and leading propensities of his nature, is that, which discovers itself in the desire of society, and the spontaneous love towards those of his kind. And tho’ the natural wants and exigencies of his condition, are no doubt, one reason of this amiable impulse, — GOD having founded that in him, as a provisional security to make him social. — Yet tho’ it is a reason in nature,— ’tis a reason, to him yet undiscover’d. Youth is not apt to philosophise so deeply — but follows, — as it feels itself prompted by the inward workings of benevolence — without view to itself, or previous calculation either of the loss or profit which may accrue. Agreeably to this, observe how warm, how heartily he enters into friendships, — how disinterested, and unsuspicious in the choice of them, — how generous and open in his professions! — how sincere and honest in making them good! — When his friend is in distress, — what lengths he will go, — what hazards he will bring upon himself, — what embarassment upon his affairs to extricate and serve him! If man is altogether a selfish creature (as these moralisers would make him) ’tis certain he does not arrive at the full maturity of it, in this time of his life. — No. If he deserves any accusation, ’tis in the other extream,
“That in his youth he is generally more FOOL than KNAVE,”
— and so far from being suspected of living to himself, that he lives rather to every body else; the unconsciousness of art and design in his own intentions, rendering him so utterly void of a suspicion of it in others, as to leave him too oft a bubble to every one who will take the advantage. — But you will say, he soon abates of these transports of disinterested love; and as he grows older, — grows wiser, and learns to live more to himself.
Let us examine. —
That a longer knowledge of the world, and some experience of insincerity, — will teach him a lesson of more caution in the choice of friendships, and less forwardness in the undistinguished offers of his services, is what I grant. But if he cools of these, does he not grow warmer still in connections of a different kind? Follow him, I pray you, into the next stage of life, where he has enter’d into engagements and appears as the father of a family, and, you will see, the passion still remains, — the stream somewhat more confined, — but, runs the stronger for it, — the same benevolence of heart alter’d only in its course, and the difference of objects towards which it tends. Take a short view of him in this light, as acting under the many tender claims which that relation lays upon him, — spending many weary days, and sleepless nights — utterly forgetful of himself, — intent only upon his family, and with an anxious heart contriving and labouring to preserve it from distress, against that hour when he shall be taken from its protection. Does such a one live to himself? — He who rises early, late takes rest, and eats the bread of carefulness, to save others the sorrow of doing so after him. Does such a one live only to himself? — Ye who are parents answer this question for him. How oft have ye sacrified your health, — your ease, — your pleasures, — nay, the very comforts of your lives, for the sake of your children? — How many indulgencies have ye given up? — What self-denials and difficulties have ye chearfully undergone for them? — In their sickness, or reports of their misconduct? How have ye gone on your way sorrowing? What alarms within you, when fancy forebodes but imaginary misfortunes hanging over them? — but when real ones have overtaken them, and mischief befallen them in the way in whichthey have gone, how sharper than a sword have ye felt the workings of parental kindness? In whatever period of human life we look for proofs of selfishness, — let us not seek them in this relation of a parent, whose whole life, when truly known, is often little else but a succession of cares, heart-aches, and disquieting apprehensions, — enough to shew, that he is but an instrument in the hands of GOD to provide for the well-being of others, to serve their interest as well as his own.
If you try the truth of this reasoning upon every other part or situation of the same life, you will find it holds good in one degree or other; take a view of it out of these closer connections both of a friend and parent. — Consider him for a moment, under that natural alliance, in which even a heathen poet has placed him; namely that of a man: — and as such, to his honor, as one capable of standing unconcern’d, in whatever concerns his fellow creatures. — Compassion has so great a share in our nature, and the miseries of this world are so constant an exercise of it, as to leave it in no one’s power (who deserves the name of man) in this respect, to live to himself.
He cannot stop his ears against the cries of the unfortunate. — The sad story of the fatherless and him that has no helper must be heard. — The sorrowful sighing of the prisoners will come before him; and a thousand other untold cases of distress to which the life of man is subject, find a way to his heart. — Let interest guard the passage as it will, if he has this world’s goods, and seeth his brother have need, he will not be able to shut up his bowels of compassion from him.
Let any man of common humanity, look back upon his own life as subjected to these strong claims, and recollect the influence they have had upon him. How oft the mere impulses of generosity and compassion have led him out of his way? — In how many acts of charity and kindness, his fellow-feeling for others has made him forget himself? — In neighbourly offices, how oft he has acted against all considerations of profit, convenience, nay sometimes even of justice itself? — Let him add to this account, how much, in the progress of his life, has been given up even to the lesser obligations of civility and good manners? — What restraints they have laid him under? How large a portion of his time, — how much of his inclination and the plan of life he could most chuse, has from time to time been made a sacrifice, to his good nature and disinclination to give pain or disgust to others?
Whoever takes a view of the life of man, in this glass wherein I have shewn it, will find it so beset and hemm’d in with obligations of one kind or other, as to leave little room to suspect, that man can live to himself: and so closely has our creator link’d us together, (as well as all other parts of his works) for the preservation of that harmony in the frame and system of things which his wisdom has at first established, — That we find this bond of mutual dependence, however relax’d, is too strong to be broke, and I believe, that the most selfish men find it is so, and that they cannot, in fact, live so much to themselves, as the narrowness of their own hearts incline them. If these reflections are just upon the moral relations in which we stand to each other, let us close the examination with a short reflection upon the great relation in which we stand to GOD.
The first and most natural thought on
this subject, which at one time or other will thrust itself upon every man’s mind, is this, — That there is a GOD who made me, — to whose gift I owe all the powers and faculties of my soul, to whose providence I owe all the blessings of my life, and by whose permission it is that I exercise and enjoy them; that I am placed in this world as a creature but of a day, hastening to the place from whence I shall not return. — That I am accountable for my conduct and behavior to this great and wisest of beings, before whose judgment seat I must finally appear and receive the things done in my body, — whether it is good, or whether it is bad.
Can any one doubt but the most inconsiderate of men sometimes sit down coolly, and make some such plain reflections as these upon their state and condition, — or, that after they have made them, can one imagine, they lose all effect. — As little appearance as there is of religion in the world, there is a great deal of its influence felt, in its affairs, — nor can one so root out the principles of it, but like nature they will return again and give checks and interruptions to guilty pursuits. There are seasons, when the thought of a just GOD overlooking, and the terror of an after reckoning has made the most determined tremble, and stop short in the execution of a wicked purpose; and if we conceive that the worst of men lay some restraints upon themselves from the weight of this principle, what shall we think of the good and virtuous part of the world, who live under the perpetual influence of it, — who sacrifice their appetites and passions from confidence of their duty to GOD; and consider him as the object to whom they have dedicated their service, and make that the first principle, and ultimate end of all their actions. — How many real and unaffected instances there are in this world, of men, thus govern’d, will not so much concern us to enquire, as to take care that we are of the number, which may GOD grant for the sake of Jesus Christ, Amen.
Complete Works of Laurence Sterne Page 82
