The True Patriot/No. 7.

THE

TRUE PATRIOT.

&mdash;

No. 7. TUESDAY, December 17, 1745.

&mdash;

TO THE TRUE PATRIOT.


 * MY WORTHY FRIEND,

I RECEIVED your paper, intituled the True Patriot, numbers one and two, inclosed in the franks of my great and most honoured patron, for which I have the highest thanks for you both. I am delighted, and that greatly, with many passages in these papers. The moderation which you profess towards all parties, perfectly becomes a Christian. Indeed I have always thought, that moderation in the shepherd was the best, if not only, way to bring home all the straggling sheep to his flock. I have intimated this at the vestry, and even at visitation before the archdeacon:


 * Sed Cassandrae non creditum est.

I like your method of placing a motto from the classics at the head of every paper. It must give some encouragement to your readers, that the author understands (at least) one line of Latin, which is perhaps more than can be safely predicated of every writer in this age.

You desire me, Sir, to write you something proper to be seen, et quidem, by the Public; as therefore a subject worthy their most serious attention now offers itself, viz. the ensuing fast ordained by authority, I have communicated my thoughts to you thereon, which you may suppress or publicate as you think meet.


 * &mdash; έρχευ έπ'έργον
 * θεόισιν έπενξαμενος τελέσαι.
 * PYTHAGORAS.


 * &mdash; "Go upon the work,
 * "Having first prayed to the gods for success."

As it is impossible for any man to reflect seriously on the progress of the present unnatural rebellion, without imputing such unparalleled success to some other cause than has yet appeared, some other strength than what any visible human means hath placed in the hands of the rebels; so will it be extremely difficult to assign any adequate cause whatsoever, without recurring to one, of whose great efficacy we have frequent examples in sacred history. I mean the just judgment of God against an offending people.

And that this is really so, we may conclude from these two considerations: First, from the rapidity of the rebels' progress, so unaccountable from human means; for can history produce an instance parallel to this, of six or seven men landing in a great and powerful nation, in opposition to the inclination of the people, in defiance of a vast and mighty army (for though the greater part of this army was not then in the kingdom, it was so nearly within call that every man of them might, within the compass of a few days or weeks at farthest, have been brought home and landed in any part of it). If we consider, I say, this handful of men landing in the most desolate corner, among a set of poor, naked, hungry, disarmed slaves, abiding there with impunity, till they had, as it were, in the face of a large body of his majesty's troops, collected a kind of army, or rather rabble, together; if we view this army intimidating the King's forces from approaching them by their situation; soon afterwards quitting that situation, marching directly up to the northern capital, and entering it without surprise or without a blow. If we again view this half-armed, half-disciplined mob, without the assistance of a single piece of artillery, march up to, attack, and smite a superior number of the king's regular troops, with cannon in their front to defend them. If we consider them returning from this complete victory to the capital, which they had before taken; there remaining, for near two months, in contempt of twelve millions of people, above a hundred thousand of which have arms in their hands, and one-half of these the best troops in Europe. If we consider them afterwards, at the approach of a large army, under a general of great experience and approved merit, bending their course, though not in a direct line, towards this army; and then, by long and painful marches, over almost inaccessible mountains, through the worst of roads, in the worst of seasons; by those means, I say, slipping that army, and leaving it behind them. If we view them next march on towards another army still greater, under a young, brave, vigilant, and indefatigable prince, who were advancing in their front to meet, as the others were in their rear to pursue them. If we consider, I say, these banditti, not yet increased to full 6000, and above a third of these old men and boys, not to be depended on, proceeding without a check through a long tract of country, through many towns and cities, which they plundered, at least to a degree, up within a few miles of this third army, sent to oppose them; then, by the advantage of a dark night, passing by this army likewise, and by a most incredible march getting between that and the metropolis, into which they struck a terror scarce to be credited. Though besides the two armies at their heels, there was still one in this very metropolis infinitely superior to these rebels, not only in arms and discipline, but in numbers. Who, I say, can consider such things as these, and retain the least doubt, whether he shall impute them to a judgment inflicted on this sinful nation; especially when, in the second place, we must allow such judgment to be most undoubtedly our due.

To run through every species of crime with which our Sodom abounds, would fill your whole paper. Indeed, such monstrous impieties and iniquities have I both seen and heard of, within these three last years, during my sojourning in what is called the world, particularly the last winter, while I tarried in the great city, that while I verily believe we are the silliest nation under heaven in every other light, we are wiser than Sodom in wickedness. If we would avoid, therefore, that final judgment which was denounced against that city; if we would avoid that total destruction with which we are threatened, not remotely and at a distance, but immediately and at hand; if we would pacify that vengeance which hath already begun to operate by sending rebels, foreign enemies, pestilence, the forerunner of famine, and poverty among us; if we would pacify that vengeance which seems already bent to our destruction, by breathing the breath of folly, as well as perfidy, into the nostrils of the great; what have we to do, but to set about THE WORK recommended by the wise and pious, though Heathen philosopher, in my motto? And what is THIS WORK but a thorough amendment of our lives, a perfect alteration of our ways? But before we begin this, let us, in obedience to the rule of that philosopher prescribed above, first apply ourselves by fasting and prayer to the throne of offended grace. My lords the bishops have wisely set apart a particular day for this solemn service. A day, which I hope will be kept universally through this kingdom, with all those marks of true piety and repentance, which our present dreadful situation demands. Indeed, the wretch whose hard heart is not seriously in earnest on this occasion, deserves no more the appellation of a good Englishman, than of a good churchman, or a true Christian. All sober and wise nations have, in times of public danger, instituted certain solemn sacrifices to their gods; now the Christian sacrifices are those of fasting and prayer: and if ever these were in a more extraordinary manner necessary, it is surely now, when the least reflection must convince us that we do in so eminent a manner deserve the judgment of God, and when we have so much reason to apprehend it is coming upon us. I hope, therefore, (I repeat it once more), that this day will be kept by us ALL, in the most solemn manner, and that not a man will dare refuse complying with those duties which the state requires of us; but I must, at the same time, recommend to my countrymen a caution, that they would not mistake THE WORK itself for what is only the beginning of, or preface to it. Let them not vainly imagine, that when they have fasted and prayed for a day; nay, even for an age, that THE WORK is done. It is a total amendment of life, a total change of manners, which can bring THE WORK to a conclusion, or produce any good effects from it. Here again, to give particular instances would be to enumerate all those vices which I have already declined recounting, and would be too prolix. They are known, they are obvious, and few men who resolve to amend their lives, will, I believe, want any assistance to discover what parts of them stand in need of amendment. I shall, however, point out two or three particulars, which I the rather single out, because I have heard, that there are some who dispute whether they are really vices or no, though every polity, as well as the Christian, have agreed in condemning them as such. The first of these is lying. The devil himself is, in scripture, said to be the father of lies; and liars are, perhaps, some of the vilest and wickedest children he has. Nay, I think the morals of all civilized nations have denied even the character of a gentleman to a liar. So heinous is this vice, that it has not only stigmatized particular persons, but whole communities, with infamy. And yet have we not persons, ay, and very great persons too, so famous for it, that their credit is a jest, and their words mere wind? I need not point them out, for they take sufficient care to point out themselves. Luxury is a second vice, which is so far from being acknowledged as criminal, that it is ostentatiously affected. Now this is not only a vice in itself, but it is in reality a privation of all virtue. For first, in lower fortunes it prevents men from being honest; and, in higher situations, it excludes that virtue without which no man can be a Christian, namely charity. For as surely as charity covereth a multitude of sins, so must a multitude of dishes, pictures, jewels, houses, horses, servants, &c., cover all charity. I remember dining last winter at a great man's table, where we had among many others, one dish, the expense of which would have provided very liberally for a poor family a whole twelvemonth. In short, I never saw, during my abode in the great city, a single man who gave me reason to think, that he would have enabled himself to be charitable, by retrenching the most idle superfluity of his expense. Perhaps the large subscriptions which have prevailed all over the kingdom at this season, may be urged as an instance of charity. To this I answer, in the words of a very great and generous friend of mine, who disclaimed all merit from a very liberal subscription, saying, 'It was rather sense than goodness, to sacrifice a small part for the security of the whole.' Now true charity is of another kind, it has no self-interested motives, pursues no immediate return nor worldly good, well knowing that it is laying up a much surer and much greater reward for itself. But, indeed, who wonders that men are so backward in sacrificing any of their wealth to their consciences, who before had sacrificed their consciences to the acquisition of that very wealth. Can we expect to find charity in an age, when scarce any refuse to own the most profligate rapaciousness! when no man is ashamed of avowing the pursuit of riches through every dirty road and track? To speak out, in an age when every thing is venal; and when there is scarce one among the mighty who would not be equally ashamed at being thought not to set some price on himself, as he would at being imagined to set too low a one? This is an assertion whose truth is too well known. Indeed, my four years knowledge of the world hath scarce furnished me with examples of any other kind. I believe I have already exceeded my portion of hour-glass; I shall, therefore, reserve what I have farther to say on this subject to some other opportunity.


 * I am, &c.


 * ABRAHAM ADAMS.