The Preface
1. The authority of custom carries far more weight generally than the authority of truth. So anyone who ventures to attack the one with the other may seem not to have taken to heart our Savior’s prudent warning: to sit down first and consider whether he is able, with ten thousand, to meet the one who comes against him with twenty thousand (Luke 14:31). Without doubt the odds between the champions of these two causes are just as uneven, or worse. I cannot but foresee that the present undertaking is very liable to the charge of such rashness.
2. Gentility has long since overturned Job’s saying, “Man is born to labor,” and pronounced instead to its followers the rich man’s requiem: “Soul, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.” A gentleman is now supposed to be merely a thing of pleasure, a creature sent into the world, like the leviathan into the deep, to take his pastime there (and, to complete the parallel, to devour his underlings too). So it will be no wonder if it is judged a ridiculous absurdity to attempt to define his calling, when his very essence is thought to consist in having none. Perhaps it will even be judged not only absurd but malicious, a leveling scheme meant to rob him of his birthright, to strip him of the privileges belonging to his rank, and to melt him back into the common mass from which divine providence and human laws have set him apart. But I trust the pages that follow to answer that suspicion themselves.
3. I have not been an unconcerned, still less a gloating, spectator of the decline the gentry have suffered in these recent years, and I have given them my honest sympathy. Yet I confess I think those troubles scarcely worth lamenting compared to the voluntary decline so many of them have made from true worth and virtue. It is surely a far less pitiable sight to see a gentleman stripped of his fortune by his conscience than by his own excess, or to see him fall under the executioner’s stroke than under those more shameful executioners, his lust or his intemperance. Yet I fear that if we scanned the record of martyrs even in these times of suffering, we would find that Venus and Bacchus have claimed far more victims than God and loyalty have.
4. But I confess it is beside the point to weigh these two evils, doing wrong and suffering wrong, against each other, since the latter clearly springs from the former and has no existence apart from it. Punishments are simply the results of sins, and so whatever harm lies in the effect must be charged entirely to its cause. We should regard our vice not merely as our greatest unhappiness, but as our only real unhappiness. This truth reveals the source of all our sufferings, and it is itself no less plain than they are, though, to judge by how many other causes people assign to our calamities while this one goes almost unmentioned, you would think it as hidden as the source of the Nile. Jonah is allowed to sleep securely in the ship while its more innocent cargo is thrown overboard (Jonah 1:5).
Every smallest spark from outside is blamed as the arsonist, when in truth, like Etna, our own depths send out the fire that has nearly burned us to ashes. But just as in sickness we consider finding the cause the first and most necessary step toward a cure, so it is here: conviction of our guilt is an essential preparation for relief from our troubles. We must be heavy laden in the spiritual sense, as Matthew 11:28 speaks, before we will cease to be so in the worldly sense.
5. But I fear people generally proceed in this matter more like quacks than sound physicians, applying palliatives to ease the symptoms, or perhaps opiates to numb the patient, while wholly neglecting the root of the disease. Nor do I lay this fault at the door of the gentry alone. It is plain enough that people of every sort and rank share too fully in it for any single group to claim it exclusively. But since my present purpose gives me a particular concern for the gentry, I will set the rest aside and address myself now to them alone, with this most earnest plea: that they would not treat themselves with the cruelty for which Amalek stands condemned toward Israel (Deut 25:18), striking down and destroying by their persistent sins those feeble, faint remnants of their former happiness.
Instead, let them at last seriously turn their attention to this great and urgent matter, and identify the true Achan who has so long troubled their Israel. And once that is done, the same story shows the next step: bringing him to execution, cutting off what will otherwise surely bring a fatal ruin down upon them. This cannot be put off, for the disease has already reached too dangerous a crisis to allow any delay in treatment.
6. When Egypt had suffered under a succession of miraculous plagues for holding the Israelites, Pharaoh’s own servants urged him to release them, closing their appeal with this pointed question: “Knowest thou not yet that Egypt is destroyed?” God knows I may just as fittingly turn that same edge on my own appeal. For, gentlemen, are not your estates wasted, your privileges violated, your splendor eclipsed, your persons restrained, your families broken and shattered, your dignities trampled by the lowest of the common people, and are you not yourselves entirely displaced from your former standing, now made the tail who were once the head (Deut 28:44)? Is it not time yet to dismiss the sins that are the cause of all this? If you still share Pharaoh’s mind and mean to keep them, you are certainly no less stubborn than he was, and far less reasonable.
He at least had some visible advantage tempting him to keep the Israelites: they were his slaves, they labored hard at his work, they built him cities. But how different is your case. These sins are not your slaves but your taskmasters, ones you are strangely unwilling to part with, that set you to the vilest and most degrading labor and bring you no profit at all. I may fairly borrow the apostle’s challenge: “What fruit have you had of those things?” (Rom 6:21). And doubt not that the only harvest you can report will be an inventory of your miseries. We can point to many houses and cities these sins have demolished and laid waste, but we cannot point to a single structure they have built, except a Babel of confusion.
7. But alas, these ruins to your worldly fortunes are only their mild and minor offenses. Look further, and, like Ezekiel’s vision (Ezek 8:6), you will see greater and more terrible abominations still, even “the abomination of desolation” in the holy place. Your sins have laid waste not only your own houses but God’s. That beauty of his adornment, which Ezekiel 7:20 says he set in majesty, has through these detestable things of yours been exposed to spoil and pollution. We have not yet grown so used to our miseries that we have forgotten our happier condition, and how painful, how wounding it is to compare this church’s past state to its present one. When the temple was being rebuilt, the joy of that restoration could not silence the grief of those who remembered the far more glorious building that came before. They laid the foundation in tears; the text says they wept with a loud voice (Ezra 3:12).
But what tears, what cries, could be bitter or loud enough for us, who mourn not partial, incomplete repairs but total ruin and devastation, who see the materials of our Zion now reduced to dust and rubble, when we once saw them happily joined together, a city at unity with itself?
8. And so, as we remember Zion while sitting ourselves by the waters of Babylon, it is surely fitting that we sit down and weep, and bid, as those captives did (Ps 137), a solemn farewell to all joy and pleasure. Would to God that all of us, and especially you to whom I now speak, matched this sad and devout grief as fully as we share in the causes of it, so that your quarrel with sin might rise to its full height, seeing that sin robs you not only of your spiritual joys but also (which many of you feel more keenly) your worldly ones. It is your sins, I wish I could say yours alone, that have played the persecuting Saul, working such havoc on the church.
The security, profanity, and licentiousness of your prosperous days made the first breaches in her walls, and now the impenitence and stubbornness of your troubled days, like the Edomites, cry out, “Down with her, down with her, even to the ground.” Among the Jews it was a capital offense to curse a parent. Shall it now pass as a minor matter, or no crime at all, not only to curse but to destroy our common mother, and to support and maintain the very forces that defy and even invade her? Why should you not at last recall your exiled piety, and rise up in holy, fitting indignation against these her cruel, implacable enemies?
9. You cannot be said to do this while you charge only other men’s sins and leave your own out of the indictment. I do not doubt that many of you, with real displeasure (perhaps more than enough), blame the Church’s ruin on the immediate instruments: you accuse the bold intrusion of ignorant teachers of depraving her doctrine, the ambition and envy of impatient inferiors of subverting her discipline, the pride and faction of busy spirits of disturbing her peace, and the greedy avarice of sacrilegious persons of devouring her patrimony. I will not deny that these were indeed the weapons that mortally wounded her. But remember that these weapons were wielded and sharpened by more general impieties, from which they borrowed their destructive power. So to shift the guilt onto them alone is only the trick of killing Uriah with the sword of the Ammonites, which, as you know, did not acquit David of murder.
No, God knows, here lies the carcass of a poor bleeding Church. But which of you, her elders, are qualified for the purification the law required in such a case (Deut 21:8)? Which of you can say, our hands have not shed this blood, neither have our eyes seen it?
10. Yet the less capable you are of washing your hands in innocence, the greater your need to wash them in penitence. Since you are sons of this mother, the office of avenger of blood falls to you. Bring forth fruits of repentance by discharging that duty faithfully. Drag out these criminals who have taken sanctuary in your hearts and dwell there securely, as in a city of refuge, and hew them in pieces, as Samuel did Agag before the Lord. Your incentives to this are infinitely greater and more pressing than in other cases of murder, and the effects will just as vastly exceed those of common justice. Common justice only avenges; this can repair the harm, recall the vital spirits, and reunite the scattered limbs of this mangled body. Such power is there in sincere repentance that it can even work a resurrection.
I wish you would be ambitious to work this miracle, and by this pious wonder bring your mother back to life, weeping so long over her ashes that the moisture makes them fruitful again, until you see her rise from her urn.
11. This is your only way to reverse the decree of destruction that these Hamans, your sins, have brought about. If you neglect this, Mordecai’s warning to Esther will apply all too well to you: if God, in his unfathomable mercy, causes deliverance and relief to come to this poor desolate Church from some other place, you yourselves can expect nothing but destruction. If you have no feeling for the desolation of Zion, no pity to see her in the dust, but still choose to cherish the very impieties that brought her there, then those same sins will eventually avenge her cause and bring upon you miseries you will find impossible to escape or put out.
12. To describe your sins to you as merely the source of temporal ruin, whether private or public, is to paint far too kind and flattering a picture of them. These are only the light skirmishes before a far more dreadful slaughter, the prologue to the fatal tragedy. Take their fuller description from the apostle: “The end of these things is death,” even death eternal (Rom 6:21). It is our usual comfort against the persecutions of men that they can pursue us no further than the grave, where, as Job says, the weary are at rest. But this tyrant within our own hearts knows no such limit to its malice. It begins its worst work precisely when all other cruelties cease, tormenting endlessly with the gnawing of the worm that never dies and the burning of the fire that is never quenched.
13. Who can wonder enough at the madness that makes you hesitate to dismiss so treacherous a guest, cherishing this viper in your own chest even as you feel it eating at your insides, devouring all your temporal happiness, only as a step on the way to your heart, your more precious and eternal part? It is the common rule, even among those who profit from another’s betrayal, to love the treason but hate the traitor. Here that rule is turned upside down: you hate the treason, growing impatient with the painful consequences of your sin, yet you love the traitor and hold it in your closest embrace. The apostle warns us of the deceitfulness of sin (Heb 3:13), but surely this goes beyond deceit. It is enchantment, some powerful charm that can make men fall in love not only with deformity but with disease itself.
14. Yet even all the magicians of Egypt could not stand before Moses. This magic is not so irresistible that reason and religion cannot offer you countercharms able to break the spell, if only you will let them help you. Step for a moment outside the devil’s circle, out of the dizzy, driven pursuit of your sinful appetites, and give your faculties enough rest, enough breath from that hot chase, to allow a calm, considered view of other things. Then you will surely see that virtue has a far more captivating appearance, infinitely more delightful and appealing, than anything the devil’s illusions could dress your highest, most savored pleasures in. Only give her some attentive looks. Let her once in at your eyes, and leave her to find her own way to your heart. This is surely a modest request, that you would simply look at what is so lovely. What excuse could you give for refusing?
You who, to gaze on those fleeting beauties that are only your snares, hesitate at no difficulty, and will even (those of you who have no other motive) go to church for that very purpose, do not hold back your curiosity here, where alone it might actually help you. Instead, take this opportunity to make holy that part of your nature which, until now, has been left unhallowed.
15. It has been one of the devil’s most effective and dangerous tricks to plant prejudice in men’s minds against Christian practice, presenting it in the most repellent forms. He changes its shape just as he changes his own: as he transforms himself into an angel of light, so he transforms Christian practice into something dark, making it appear a state of the most dismal sadness and horror, a land opposite to all joy and cheerfulness. How much more ready people are to take the devil at his word than to take Christ at his, who declares his yoke easy and his burden light. This shows plainly in the widespread aversion to piety among those who have never even tried it, who instead pick up vague, confused prejudices against it and hold onto them as firmly as if they were the fruit of years of costly experience. These prejudices, I fear, have taken deepest root in the richest soil.
They seem to flourish nowhere more than among you of the highest rank, yet for that very reason you are more obligated than anyone else to root them out, since they involve a gross injustice that any thoughtful mind should be ashamed of.
16. You would readily call any judge both corrupt and shameless who condemns a person whose case he never heard. Yet if you reflect, you will find your own verdict rebounding on yourselves, with a “you are the man,” for this is plainly your own case. It is time, then, for you to be at least as just to your own reputation, if not to virtue itself, as to withdraw the condemning sentence you have passed on her, and to grant her at least the outward form of a fair trial. But you cannot do this merely by hearing the tongues of men and angels speak in her defense. No one but virtue herself can plead her own cause. You must welcome her into your company and live with her closely enough to observe her, before you pass judgment on her.
In short, if you truly wish to become competent judges of whether a virtuous life is pleasant or dismal, take it up yourselves, and let your own experience inform you.
17. I cannot think this age so far gone as to doubt that many particular people among you have made this experiment themselves. To their testimony I confidently appeal, and I do not doubt they will turn from judges into advocates and recommend it to you. Surely you will have no reason here to set aside your usual privilege of being tried by your peers, or to object to the judgment of those who, standing in circumstances equal to your own, must understand your strongest temptations to vice, from which alone all the apparent difficulties and discomforts of virtue arise.
18. It would take many volumes to describe all the distinct advantages toward a pleasant life that are wrapped up in this one comprehensive blessing. I will point to just one, since it particularly relates to the treatise that follows: it furnishes you with a steady succession of agreeable and cheerful pursuits. Virtue is busy and active by nature. Just as it opposes every kind of vice in its various operations, so in its very constitution it bears an avowed hostility to that one fertile breeding-ground of most other sins: idleness. Rescuing you from idleness is no small benefit. You may claim, as a considerable part of your inheritance, the right to live and do nothing, and you hold tightly to that claim. Yet it is perfectly plain that what you defend as your privilege you yourselves feel as a burden.
So much so, in fact, that to escape it you throw away wealth, health, soul, and everything else for company, and busy yourselves in the most ruinous ways rather than endure being idle. You even disprove your own pretense to ease by those laborious, toilsome vices which you are forced to call pleasures in order to make them bearable, vices that have no real claim to that name except that they keep you occupied.
19. What kinder service, then, could possibly be done for people in this condition than to show them how they may free themselves of this load without taking on a worse one? I mean the guilt of those sins which, like Rehoboam turning whips into scorpions, people now resort to as their only means of relief. A Christian life will do exactly this for you. It will constantly supply you with innocent diversions, and far more than that, it will give you work so excellent and worthy of the dignity of your nature, so noble and fitting to the splendor of your rank, so thoroughly agreeable to the aims of rational people, that you will have cause to agree with our Church that God’s service is perfect freedom.
20. I will not attempt to give you a detailed account of every one of these pursuits. The precepts of the Gospel, which assign your tasks, tell you enough already about their nature and excellence. My whole plan is contained in that one instruction that directs each person to attend faithfully to the calling in which God has placed him. So I mean to treat only those particular duties that fall to you as gentlemen. In doing so I will show you that, considered in that light, you do have a calling, freeing you from the reproach and misery of being unprofitable burdens on the earth. I will also show you that this calling, far from implying any real toil or discomfort, is simply an art of refining and elevating your pleasures, making them more delightful and exquisite. Attended to properly, it will make good, in earnest, your mistaken claim to a life of sensuality and delight.