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long use of words with inconsistent meanings, or through negligence of thought. let him but ask himself whether the church of Christ be the kingdom of Christ or not; and if it be, whether this notion of it doth not absolutely exclude all other legislators and judges in matters relating to conscience or favour of God, or whether it can be his kingdom if any mortal men have such a power of legislation and judgment in it. This inquiry will bring us back to the first, which is the only true account of the church of Christ, or the kingdom of Christ, in the mouth of a Christian; that it is the number of men, whether small or great, whether dispersed or united, who truly and sincerely are subjects to Jesus Christ alone as their lawgiver and judge in matters relating to the favour of God and their eternal sal vation.

The next principal point is, that, if the church be the kingdom of Christ, and this 'kingdom be not of this world,' this must appear from the nature and end of the laws of Christ, and of those rewards and punishments which are the sanctions of his laws. Now, his laws are declarations relating to the favour of God in another state after this. They are declarations of those conditions to be performed in this world on our part, without which God will not make us happy in that to come. And they are almost all general appeals to the will of that God; to his nature, known by the common reason of mankind, and to the imitation of that nature which must be our perfection. The keeping his commandments is declared the way to life, and the doing his will the entrance into the kingdom of heaven. The being subjects to Christ, is to this very end, that we may the better and more effectually perform the will of God. The laws of this kingdom, therefore, as Christ left them, have nothing of this world in their view; no tendency either to the exaltation of some in worldly pomp and dignity, or to their absolute dominion over the faith and religious conduct of others of his subjects, or to the erection of any sort of temporal kingdom under the covert and name of a spiritual one.

The sanctions of Christ's law are rewards and punishments. But of what sort? Not the rewards of this world; not the offices or glories of this state; not the pains of prisons, banishments, fines, or any lesser and more moderate penalties; nay, not the much lesser negative discouragements that belong to human society. He was far from thinking that these could be the instruments of such a persuasion as he thought acceptable to God. But, as the great end of his kingdom was to guide men to happiness after the short images of it were over here below, so he took his motives from that place where his kingdom first began, and where it was last to end; from those rewards and punishments in a future state, which had no relation to this world; and to show that his kingdom was not of this world; all the sanctions which he thought fit to give to his laws were not of this world at all.

St. Paul understood this so well, that he gives an account of his own conduct, and that of others in the same station, in these words: 'Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we persuade men:' whereas, in too many Christian countries since his days, if some who profess to succeed him were to give an account of their own conduct, it must be in a quite contrary strain: 'Knowing the terrors of this world, and having them in our power, we do not persuade men, but force their outward professions against their inward persuasions!'

Now, wherever this is practiced, whether in a great degree or a small, in that place there is so far a change from a kingdom which is not of this world, to a kingdom which is of this world. As soon as ever you hear of any engines of this world, whether of the greater or lesser sort, you must immediately think that then, and so far, the kingdom of this world takes place. For, if the very essence of God's worship be spirit and truth, if religion be virtue and charity, under the belief of a Supreme Governor and Judge, if true real faith can not be the effect of force, and if there can be no reward where there is no willing choice-then, in all or any of these cases, to apply force or flattery, worldly pleasure or pain, is to act contrary to the interests

of true religion, as it is plainly opposite to the maxims upon which Christ founded his kingdom; who choose the motives which are not of this world, to support a kingdom which is not of this world. And, indeed, it is too visible to be hid, that wherever the rewards and punishments are changed from future to present, from the world to come to the world now in possession, there the kingdom founded by our Saviour is, in the nature of it, so far changed, that it is become, in such a degree, what he professed his kingdom was not-that is, of this world; of the same sort with other common earthly kingdoms, in which the rewards are worldly honours, posts, offices, pomp, attendance, dominion; and the punishments are prisons, fines, banishments, galleys, and racks, or something less of the same sort.

George BerkeleY, afterwards the celebrated Bishop of Cloyne, and to whom Pope assigned 'every virtue under heaven,' was born at Thomastown, in the county of Kilkenney, Ireland, on the twelfth of March, 1684. He was educated at Dublin university, where he remarkably distinguished himself by his proficiency in mathematical studies; and in 1707, became a fellow of Trinity College. In 1709, he published his Theory of Vision; in the following year, The Principles of Human Knowledge; and in 1713, appeared his Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, in which his ideal system was developed in language singularly animated and imaginative. These publications introduced him to the acquaintance of Swift, Pope, Steele, and other members of that brilliant circle, by all of whom he seems to have been greatly beloved.

In 1713, Berkeley, having previously taken orders, and been promoted to the deanery of Clogher, accompanied the Earl of Peterborough, as chaplain and secretary, in his embassy to Sicily; and afterwards travelled on the continent as tutor to the son of the Bishop of Clogher, with whom he remained abroad between four and five years. On his return, he published a Latin tract, De Motu, and an essay on the fatal South Sea scheme, both of which were well received. In 1720, Pope introduced him to the Earl of Burlington, and by that nobleman he was recommended to the Duke of Grafton, lord-lieutenant of Ireland. His grace made Berkeley his chaplain, and afterwards appointed him to the deanery of Derry. It soon became evident, however, that personal aggrandizement was never an object of interest with the benevolent philosopher. He had long cherished a project, which he now announced as a 'Scheme for converting the savage Americans to Christianity, by a college to be erected in the Summer Islands, otherwise called the Isles of Bermuda.' Anticipating no difficulties, he communicated his enthusiastic scheme to others, and even obtained, from Sir Robert Walpole, the promise of twenty thousand pounds to purchase the grounds required, and to erect suitable buildings. While Berkeley's mind glowed, and his heart swelled with the visions of his literary and religious triumphs in the New World, he wrote the following fine verses, expressive of his brilliant anticipations:

The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime
Barren of every glorious theme,

In distant lands now waits a better time,
Producing subjects worthy fame.

In happy climes, where from the genial sun
And virgin earth, such scenes ensue,
The force of art by nature seems outdone,
And fancied beauties by the true:

In happy climes the seat of innocence,

Where nature guides and virtue rules,
Where men shall not impose for truth and sense,
The pedantry of courts and schools:

There shall be sung another golden age,
The rise of empire and of arts,
The good and great inspiring epic rage,
The wisest heads and noblest hearts.

Not such as Europe breeds in her decay;
Such as she bred when fresh and young,
When heavenly flame did animate her clay,
By future poets shall be sung.

Westward the course of empire takes its way;
The four first acts already past,

A fifth shall close the drama with the day;
Time's noblest offspring is the last.

In 1728, Berkeley sailed for Rhode Island, and there remained for some years, awaiting the remittance of the money promised by Walpole; but the minister proved faithless to his pledge, and the philosopher was compelled, disappointed, to return to Europe. While in America he composed The Minute Philosopher, a series of moral and philosophical dialogues, which he published in 1732. He soon after attracted the attention of Queen Caroline, and in 1734 was appointed to the bishopric of Cloyne, in Ireland. Some useful tracts were afterwards published by him, including one on tar-water, which he considered to possess high medinical qualities. His last work is entitled, The Querist; containing several Queries proposed to the Consideration of the Public. In 1752, he removed, with his family, to Oxford, to superintend the education of his sons; and conscious of the impropriety of residing apart from his diocess, he endeavored to exchange his bishopric for some canonry, or college, at Oxford. Not succeeding in this project, he proposed to resign his bishopric; but the king declared he should die a bishop, though he gave him liberty to reside where he pleased. This incident is highly honorable to both parties. On the fourteenth of January, 1753, the good prelate died suddenly at his residence at Oxford, and his remains were interred in Christ Church, where a monument was erected to his memory.

The life of Bishop Berkeley presents a striking picture of patient labor and romantic enthusiasm, of learning and genius, benevolence and worth. His works form an important landmark in metaphysical science. At first

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his valuable and original Theory of Vision' was considered a philosophical romance, yet his doctrines are now incorporated with every system of optics. His style is clear and unaffected, with the easy grace of the polished philosopher. A love of description and of external nature is evinced at times, and possesses something of the freshness of old Izaak Walton. The following extract is taken from An Essay towards preventing the Ruin of Great Britain,' written soon after the affair of the South Sea scheme :

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INDUSTRY.

Industry is the natural sure way to wealth; this is so true, that it is impossible an industrious free people should want the necessaries and comforts of life, or an idle enjoy them under any form of government. Money is so far useful to the public, as it promoteth industry, and credit having the same effect, is of the same value with money; but money or credit circulating through a nation from hand to hand, without producing labour and industry in the inhabitants, is direct gaming.

It is not impossible for cunning men to make such plausible schemes, as may draw those who are less skillful into their own and the public ruin. But surely there is no man of sense and honesty but must see and own, whether he understands the game or not, that it is an evident folly for any people, instead of prosecuting the old honest methods of industry and frugality, to sit down to a public gaming-table and play off their money one to another.

The more methods there are in a state for acquiring riches without industry or merit, the less there will be of either in that state: this is as evident as the ruin that attends it. Besides, when money is shifted from hand to hand in such a blind fortuitous manner, that some men shall from nothing acquire in an instant vast estates, without the least desert; while others are as suddenly stripped of plentiful fortunes, and left on the parish by their own avarice and credulity, what can be hoped for on the one hand but abandoned luxury and wantonness, or on the other but extreme madness and despair?

In short, all projects for growing rich by sudden and extraordinary methods, as they operate violently on the passions of men, and encourage them to despise the slow moderate gains that are to be made by an honest industry, must be ruinous to the public, and even the winners themselves will at length be involved in the public ruin. *

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God grant the time be not near when men shall say, 'This island was once inhabited by a religious, brave, sincere people, of plain uncorrupt manners, respecting inbred worth rather than titles and appearance, assertors of liberty, lovers of their country, jealous of their own rights, and unwilling to infringe the rights of others; improvers of learning and useful arts, enemies to luxury, tender of other men's lives and prodigal of their own; inferior in nothing to the old Greeks or Romans, and superior to each of those people in the perfections of the other. Such were our ancestors during their rise and greatness; but they degenerated, grew servile flatterers of men in power, adopted Epicurean notions, became venal, corrupt, injurious, which drew upon them the hatred of God and man, and occasioned their final ruin,

LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU, the writer with whom we shall close our remarks on the present period, was the eldest daughter of the Duke of Kingston, and was born in 1690. She was educated, like her brothers, in the Latin, Greek, and French languages, with each of which she became entirely familiar. In 1712, she married Edward Wortley Montagu, and on

her husband being appointed a commissioner of the treasury, she was introduced to the courtly and polished circles of London, and secured the friendship of Addison, Pope, Gay, and other distinguished literati of that period. Her personal beauty, and the charms of her conversation were, at that time, unrivalled. In 1716, her husband was appointed ambassador to the Porte, and Lady Mary accompanied him to Constantinople. During the journey, and her residence in the Levant, she corresponded with her sister, the Countess of Mar, Lady Rich, Pope, and others, delineating European and Turkish scenery and manners with accuracy and minuteness. On observing, among the villages in Turkey, the practice of inoculating for the small-pox, she br came convinced of its utility and efficacy, and applied it to her own son, at that time about three years old. By great exertions, Lady Mary afterwards established the practice of inoculation in England, and from that country it has spread throughout the civilized world.

In 1718, Lady Mary's husband being recalled from his embassy, she returned to England, and, by the advice of Pope, settled at Twickenham. The rival wits did not, however, long continue friends. Pope seems to have entertained for Lady Mary a passion warmer than friendship; and on one occasion he is said to have made a tender declaration to her, which threw the lady into an immoderate fit of laughter, and made the sensitive poet ever afterwards her implacable enemy. In 1739, her health having de clined, Lady Mary again left England, and after visiting Rome, Naples, and other prominent places, she finally settled at Louverre, in the Venetian territory, whence she corresponded freely and fully with her female friends and relations. Montagu died in 1761, immediately after which Lady Mary returned to England, but she did not long survive her husband, as her own death occurred on the twenty-first of August, 1762.

Few persons of any age or country ever united more solid sense and learning, to wit, fancy, and lively powers of description, than Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. In epistolary composition she has very few equals, and scarcely a superior. Walpole may be more witty and sarcastic, and Cowper more unaffectedly natural, pure, and delightful; but if we consider the variety and novelty of the objects described in Lady Mary's letters, the fund of anecdote and observation they display, the just reflections that spring out of them, and the happy clearness and idiomatic grace of her style, we shall hesitate about placing her below any letter-writer that England ever produced. Her letters, it is true, may sometimes betray a want of feminine softness and delicacy; but that is attributable rather to the fashion of the times, than to any defect in her taste. Of these incomparable letters we present the following:

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TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ.-ON MATRIMONIAL HAPPINESS.

* * If we marry, our happiness must consist in loving one another: 'tis principally my concern to think of the most probable method of making that love eternal. You object against living in London; I am not fond of it myself, and readily

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