An Effay on Indifference in Religion; by Mrs. Chapone. From her Mifcellanies in Profe and Verfe, lately published.

W HATEVER abfurdities

may arife from the fancied ardors of enthufiafm, they are much lefs pernicious to the mind than the contrary extreme of coldness and indifference in religion. The fpirit of chivalry, though it led to many romantic enterprifes, was nevertheless favourable to true courage, as it excited and nourished magnanimity and contempt of danger; which, though fometimes wafted in abfurd undertakings, were of the greatest use on real and proper occafions. The noblet energies of which we are capable, can scarcely be called out without fone degree of enthusiasm, in whatever caufe we are engaged; and thofe fentiments, which tend to the exaltation of human nature, though they may often excite attempts beyond the human powers, will, however, prevent our stopping fhort of them, and lofing, by carelefs indolence and felf-defertion, the greateft part of that ftrength with which we really are endued.

How common is it for thofe who profefs (and perhaps fincerely) to believe with entire perfuafion the truth of the gospel, to declare that they do not pretend to frame their lives according to the purity of its moral precepts!" I hope," fay they, "I am guilty of no great crimes; but the customs of the world in these times will not admit of a conduct agreeable either to reafon or revelation. I know the courfe of life I am in is wrong; I know that I am engroffed by the world that I have no time for re

flection, nor for the practice of many duties which I acknowledge to be fuch. But I know not how it is-I do not find that I can alter my manner of living."-Thus they coolly and contentedly give themfelves up to a conftant courfe of diffipation, and a general worthleffnefs of character, which, I fear, is as little favourable to their happiness here or hereafter, as the occafional commiffion of crimes at which they would start and tremble. The habitual neglect of all that is moft valuable and important, of children, friends, fervants-of neighbours and dependents-of the poor-of God-and of their own minds, they confider as an excufable levity, and fatisfy themselves with laying the blame on the manners of the times.

If a modern lady of fashion was to be called to account for the dif pofition of her time, I imagine her defence would run in this tyle :"I can't, you know, be out of the world, nor act differently from every body in it. The hours are every where late-confequently I rife late. I have scarce breakfasted before morning visits begin-or it is time to go to an auction, or a concert or to take a little exercise for my health. Dreffing my hair is a long operation-but one can't appear with a head unlike every body elfe. One muft fometimes go to a play, or an opera; though I own it hurries one to death. Then, what with neceffary vifits-the perpetual engagements to card-parties at private houfes--and attendance on the public affemblies, to which all people of fashion fubfcribe, the evenings, you fee, are fully dif pofed of. What time then can I poffibly have for what you call domeftic duties ?-You talk of the M 3 offices

offices and enjoyments of friendfhip-alas! I have no hours left for friends! I muft fee them in a crowd, or not at all. As to cultivating the friendship of my huf band, we are very civil when we meet; but we are both too much engaged to spend much time with each other. With regard to my daughters, I have given them a French governefs, and proper mafters-I can do no more for them. You tell me I fhould inftruct my fervants-but I have not time to inform myself, much lefs can I undertake any thing of that fort for them, or even be able to guess what they do with themselves the greatest part of the twenty-four hours. I go to church, if poffible, once on a Sunday, and then fome of my fervants attend me; and, if they will not mind what the preacher fays, how can I help it? The management of our fortune, as far as I am concerned, I mult leave to the fteward and houfekeeper; for I find I can barely fnatch a quarter of an hour just to look over the bill of fare when I am to have company, that they may not fend up any thing frightful or old-fashioned. As to the Christian duty of charity, I affure you I am not ill-natured; and (confidering that the great expence of being always dreffed for company, with loffes at cards, fubfcriptions, and public fpectacles, leave me very little to difpofe of) I am ready enough to give my money when I meet with a miferable object. You fay, I fhould enquire out fuch, inform myfelf thoroughly of their cafes, make an acquaintance with the poor of my neighbourhood in the country, and plan out the best method of relieving the

unfortunate, and affifting the induftrious. But this fuppofes much more time, and much more money than I have to beftow. I have had hopes indeed that my fummers would have afforded me more leifure; but we stay pretty late in town; then we generally pass several weeks at one or other of the water-drinking places, where every moment is fpent in public; and, for the few months in which we refide at our own feat, our house is always full, with a fucceffion of company, to whofe amusement one is obliged to dedicate every hour of the day."

So here ends the account of that time which was given you to prepare and educate yourself for eternity?-yet you believe the immortality of the foul, and a future ftate of rewards and punishments. A your own heart what rewards you deferve-or what kind of felicity you are fitted to enjoy? Which of thofe faculties or affections, which heaven can be fuppofed to gratify, have you cultivated and improved? If, in that eternal world, the stores of knowledge fhould be laid open before you, have you preferved that thirft of knowledge, or that talle for truth, which is now to be indulged with endless information? If, in the fociety of faints and angels, the pureft benevolence and moft cordial love is to constitute your happiness, where is the heart that fhould enjoy this delightful intercourfe of affection? Has yours been exercised and refined to a proper capacity of it, during your state of difcipline, by the energies of generous friendship, by the meltings of parental fondness, or by that union of heart and foul, that mixed exertion of perfect friend

fhip and ineffable tenderness, which approaches nearest to the full fatiffaction of our nature, in the bands of conjugal love? Alas! you fcarce knew you had a heart, except when you felt it fwell with pride, or flutter with vanity. Has your piety and gratitude to the fource of all good been exercised and ftrengthened by conftant acts of praife and thanksgiving? Was it nourished by frequent meditation, and filent recollection of all the wonders he hath done for us, till it burst forth in fervent prayer? I fear it was rather decency than devotion that carried you once a week to the place of public worship-and, for the rest of the week, your thoughts and time were fo differently filled up, that the idea of a ruler of the universe could occur but feldom, and then, rather as an object of terror than of hope and joy. How then shall a foul, fo dead to divine love, fo loft to all but the moft childish purfuits, be able to exalt and enlarge itself to a capacity of blifs which we are allowed to hope for, in a more intimate perception of the divine prefence, in contemplating more nearly the perfections of our Creator, and in pouring out before his throne our ardent gratitude, love, and adoration? What kind of training is the life you have paffed through for fuch an immortality?

And, dare you look down with contempt on those whom ftrong temptation from natural paffions, or a train of unfortunate circumftances, have funk into the commiffion of what you call great crimes Dare you fpeak peace to your own heart, because by different circumstances you have been preferved from them? Far be it from

me to wish to leffen the horror of crimes; but yet, as the temptations to thefe occur but feldom, whereas the temptations to negleft, and indifference towards our duty, for ever furround us, it may be neceffary to awaken ourselves to fome calculation of the proportions between fuch habitual omiffion of all that is good, and the commiffion of more heinous acts of fin; between wafting our whole life in what is falfely called innocent amufement, and difgracing it by faults which would alarm fociety more, though poffibly they might injure it lefs.

How amazing is the distance between the extreme of negligence. and felf-indulgence in fuch nominal Chriftians, and the oppofite excess of rigour, which fome have unhappily thought meritorious! between a Pafcal (who dreaded the influence of pleasure fo much, as to wear an iron, which he preffed into his fide whenever he found himself taking delight in any object of fenfe) and thofe who think life lent them only to be fquandered in fenfual diverfions, and the frivolous indulgence of vanity? What a ftrange compofition is man! ever diverging from the right lineforgetting the true end of his being -or widely miltaking the means that lead to it?

If it were indeed true, that the Supreme Being had made it the condition of our future happiness, that we should fpend the days of our pilgrimage here on earth in voluntary fuffering and mortification, and a continual oppofition to every inclination of nature, it would furely be worth while to conform even to thefe conditions, however rigorous: and we fee, by numerous M 4 examples,

examples, that it is not more than human creatures are capable of, when fully perfuaded that their eternal interefts demand it. But if, in fact, the laws of God are no other than directions for the better enjoyment of our existence-if he has forbid us nothing that is not pernicious, and commanded nothing that is not highly advantageous to us-if, like a beneficent parent, he inflicts neither punishment nor constraint unneceffarily, but makes our good the end of all his injunctions-it will then appear much more extraordinary that we fhould perverfely go on in conflant and acknowledged neglect of those injunctions.

Is there a fingle pleasure worthy of a rational being, which is not, within certain limitations, confiftent with religion and virtue ?. And, are not the limits, within which we are permitted to enjoy them, the fame which are prefcribed by reafon and nature, and which we cannot exceed without manifeft hurt to ourselves or others? It is not the life of a hermit, or a Pere de la Trappe, that is enjoined us: it is only the life of a rational being, formed for fociety, capable of continual improvement, and confequently of continual advancement in happiness.

It is vain, however, to think of recalling thofe whom long habits, and the established tyranny of pride and vanity, have almoft precluded from a poffibility of improving by advice, and in whom the very defire of amendment is extinguished; but for those who are now entering on the ftage of life, and who have, their parts to chufe, how earnestly could I with for the fpirit of perfuafion-for fucha warning voice'

The great Difference in the State of Morals, &c. and Taste for the Fine Arts, &c. in different Countries, at the fame Period; and at different Periods, in the fame Country; fufficiently accountable for, from the Difference in the State of Education and Religion, in these Countries and at thefe Periods, without any Recourse to the concomitant Circumftances of Soil or Climate. From an Inquiry into the real and imaginary Obfirullions to the Acquifition of the Arts in England, by James Barry, Royal Academician, and Member of the Clementine Academy of Bologna.

produces fuch different effects on the two nations: one is fo cold and indifferent, the other fo tranfported, that it feems almost inconceivable." I fhall notwithstanding venture to fay, that thefe different effects are easily conceivable, when we chufe to reflect upon the mutability, growth, decline, and different materials of temporary national education. Is not the national tafte for mufic, like the tafte for all the other arts, conftantly, though imperceptibly, changing? Is it not evident that in Italy, France and England, the different ages have had very different feelings about them? And are there not many very confiderable Italians who, fo far from approving of their prefent tafte of mufic, have lamented its want of meaning and true expreffion, its degeneracy and change. But I fhall leave this matter for Doctor Burney and the gentlemen who understand mufic, as it is fully fufficient for my purpofe that changes have been admit ted, and that the talte for this art, like that for all the others, depends upon the mass of education, and fluctuates accordingly.

In book xix. ch. 27. of the Spirit of Laws, it is obferved, as a neceffary confequence of their fituation and mode of government," that the fatirical writings of the Eng lish are sharp and fevere; and we find amongst them many Juvenals, without difcovering one Horace." --"Their poets have more frequently an original rudeness of invention, than that particular kind of delicacy which fprings from there find fomething which approaches nearer to the bold ftrength of M. Angelo, than

to the fofter graces of a Rafaelle." These inftances from the Roman writers are a little unlucky, and foreign to the purpofe for which they were brought, as the delicate Horace was bred up in the contests of a republic, as well as the harsh and fharp Lucillius; and the fevere, furious Juvenal lived in the times of flavery. As to our fatirits, it is hard to fay how many of them Montefquieu had read, or whether he read any of them, or how far he was mafter of their language, fo as to be able to form a proper judgment of their ftyle and manner. But Abbé Wincleman, who has alfo paffed a magifterial cenfure upon all the English poets, was, to my own knowledge of him, fo little acquainted with the language they wrote in, that he was fcarcely able to understand even an ordinary article of intelligence in one of our Gazettes. But as Montefquieu was indeed a very different kind of writer, fuppofe we admit for the prefent, that he was also above prejudice, and had not, like the other, any fyftem to maintain that was incompatible with the truth; that he did understand our language; and that, before he formed this judgment, he had given at leaft our best fatirifts a fair and difpaffionate perufal. Yet, what are we to think, if, after all, he could not find in Pope's Satires, and in his Rape of the Lock, any thing of the Horatian neatnefs and delicacy, which all the rest of the world have found there; that in Addifon he could fee nothing at all of a gentlemanly turn of humour; and that Swift appeared to him to be a blunt, direct, angry writer, who never furnished any exercise to

the