conscience is instructed in its way, and girt for action, a light trifling reason, or an absurd fear, hinders it from begining the journey, or proceeding in the way, or resting at the journey's end.

Very often it hath no reason at all for its inducement, but proceeds from indisposition of body, pusillanimity, melancholy, a troubled head, sleepless nights, the society of the timorous, from solitariness, ignorance, or unseasoned imprudent notices of things, indigested learning, strong fancy and weak judgment; from any thing that may abuse the reason into irresolution and restlessness. It is indeed a direct walking in the dark, where we see nothing to affright us, but we fancy many things; and the phantasms produced in the lower regions of fancy, and nursed by folly, and borne upon the arms of fear, do trouble us.

But if reason be its parent, then it is born in the twilight, and the mother is so little that the daughter is a fly with a short head and a long sting, enough to trouble a wise man, but not enough to satisfy the appetite of a little bird. The reason of a scruple is ever as obscure as the light of a glowworm, not fit to govern any action, and yet is suffered to stand in the midst of all its enemies, and, like the flies of Egypt, vex and trouble the whole army.

This disease is most frequent in women and monastic persons, in the sickly and timorous, and is often procured by excess in religious exercises, in austerities and disciplines, indiscreet fastings and pernoctations in prayer, multitude of human laws, variety of opinions, the impertinent talk and writings of men that are busily idle: the enemy of mankind by the weaknesses of the body and understanding enervating the strengths of the spirit, and making religion strike itself upon the face by the palsies and weak tremblings of its own fingers.

William of Oseney was a devout man, and read two or three books of religion and devotion very often; and being pleased with the entertainment of his time, resolved to spend so many hours every day in reading them, as he had read over those books several times; that is, three hours every day. In a short time he had read over the books three times more, and began to think that his resolution might be

expounded to signify in a current sense, and that it was to be extended to the future times of his reading, and that now he was to spend six hours every day in reading those books, because he had now read them over six times. He presently considered, that in half so long time more by the proportion of this scruple he must be tied to twelve hours every day, and therefore that this scruple was unreasonable; that he intended no such thing, when he made his resolution, and therefore that he could not be tied he knew that a resolution does not bind a man's self in things whose reason does vary, and where our liberty is entire, and where no interest of a third person is concerned. He was sure, that this scruple would make that sense of the resolution be impossible at last, and all the way vexatious and intolerable; he had no leisure to actuate this sense of the words, and by higher obligations he was faster tied to other duties: he remembered also that now the profit of those good books was received already and grew less, and now became changed into a trouble and an inconvenience, and he was sure he could employ his time better; and yet, after all this heap of prudent and religious considerations, his thoughts revolved in a restless circle, and made him fear he knew not what. He was sure he was not obliged, and yet durst not trust it: he knew his rule, and had light enough to walk by it, but was as fearful to walk in the day as children are in the night. Well, being weary of his trouble, he tells his story, receives advice to proceed according to the sense of his reason, not to the murmurs of his scruple; he applies himself accordingly. But then he enters into new fears; for he rests in this that he is not obliged to multiply his readings, but begins to think that he must do some equal good thing in commutation of the duty, for though that particular instance become intolerable and impossible, yet he tied himself to perform that which he believed to be a good thing, and though he was deceived in the particular, yet he was right in the general, and therefore that for the particular he must make an exchange. He does so; but as he is doing it, he starts, and begins to think that every commutation being intended for ease, is in some sense or other a lessening of his duty, a diminution of his spiritual interest, and a note of

infirmity; and then also fears, that in judging concerning the matter of his commutation he shall be remiss and partial. Now he considers that he ought to consult with his superiors; and as he is going to do so, he begins to think that his superior did once chide him for his scruple, and that now much more he will do it, and therefore will rather seek to abolish the opinion of obligation than change it into another burden; and since he knows this beforehand, he fears lest it shall be expounded to be in him an artifice to get himself eased or chidden out of his duty, and cozened from his obligation. What shall the man do? He dares not trust himself; and if he goes to another, he thinks that this will the more condemn him; he suspects himself, but this other renders him justly to be suspected by himself and others too. Well, he goes to God and prays him to direct him; but then he considers that God's graces are given to us working together with God's Spirit, and he fears the work will not be done for him because he fails in his own part of co-operating; and concerning this he thinks he hath no scruple, but certain causes of fear. After a great tumbling of thoughts and sorrows, he begins to believe that this scrupulousness of conscience is a temptation, and a punishment of his sins: and then he heaps up all that he ever did, and all that he did not, and all that he might have done, and seeking for remedy grows infinitely worse, till God at last, pitying the innocence and trouble of the man, made the evil to sink down with its own weight, and like a sorrow that breaks the sleep, at last growing big, loads the spirits, and bringing back the sleep that it had driven away, cures itself by the greatness of its own affliction. In this case, the religion is not so great as the affliction.

But because a scruple is a fear, or a light reason against a stronger and a sufficiently determined understanding, it can bring no other work to the conscience, but that it get itself eased of the trouble, which is to be done by the following rules.

RULE II.

A Conscience, sufficiently instructed by its proper Arguments of Persuasion, may, without Sin, proceed to Action against the Scruple and its weaker Arguings or stronger Tremblings.

THIS is the best remedy that is in nature and reason. St. Bernard preached rarely well, and was applauded; but the devil, offering to him the temptation of vainglory, he, in his resisting it, began to think that he had better leave off to preach than begin to be proud; but instantly the Holy Spirit of God discovered to him the deception, and the devil's artifice, who would, at any rate, have him leave off to preach; and he answered, 'I neither began for thee, nor for thee will I leave off. This is a right course in the matter of scruple; proceed to action; and as the reason or the fear in the scruple was not inducement enough to begin, so neither to leave off.

Against a doubting conscience a man may not work, but against a scrupulous he may. For a scrupulous conscience does not take away the proper determination of the understanding; but it is like a woman handling of a frog or a chicken, which, all their friends tell them, can do them no hurt, and they are convinced in reason that they cannot, they believe it and know it; and yet when they take the little creature into their hands, they shriek, and sometimes hold fast, and find their fears confuted, and sometimes they let go, and find their reason useless.

Valerius, of Hippo, being used always to fast till high noon of festivals, falls into an illness of stomach, and is advised to eat something in the morning; all the reason of the world that is considerable and pressing, tells him he may do it lawfully, but because he hath not been used to it, and good people in health do not do it, he is fearful to do that which others do not, that need it not; this is a slight ground, and with it perfectly may stand his practical determination of conscience, that it is lawful for him; which final determination, because it is the next and immediate rule of actions, cannot be impeded by that which suffers this persuasion still to remain, because the doing only against such a persua

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sion can only be a sin; for that only is the transgression of the immediate law: to do conformably to such determination is to do it with faith; and if the scruple can lessen it, yet it only makes the man the weaker, but cannot destroy the

assent.

Add to this, that since scruples do sometimes make men mad, do detriment to our health, make religion a burden, introduce a weariness of spirit and tediousness,—it cannot be a sin to stop all this evil, and directly to throw away the scruple, and proceed to contrary actions.

But this is to be understood only, when the scruple is such that it leaves the conscience practically determined. For if the scruple prevails upon his weakness so far as to rifle the better reasons, the conscience loses its rule and its security, and the scruple passes into a doubt, and the law into a consultation, and the judgment into opinion, and the conscience into an undiscerning, undetermined faculty.

Hither is to be reduced the case of a perplexed conscience; that is, when men think that which part soever of the contradiction they choose, they sin; for though that be impossible to wise men, yet all men are not wise; and if it were impossible in the thing, yet it is certainly possible upon the distempers of some men and because a man hath contrary reasonings and divided principles within, as our blessed Lord had a natural desire not to die, and yet a reasonable and a holy spiritual desire to submit to his Father's will, and, if he please, to die ;-so hath every man desires to please an appetite, or secure an interest of secular designs, and a reason to serve the interest of his spirit in spiritual designs : but although, in our blessed Lord, the appetites of nature were innocent and obedient, and the spirit always got a clear victory, and the flesh resisted not, yet in us it is not so: and sometimes spiritual complications do disturb the question, and make the temporal end seem religious or pious; and the contrary pretence is pious too, and yet a duty will be omitted which way soever be chosen, or a sin committed as is supposed here the case seems hard. It is certain that there is no such case in the world, that it is necessary for a man to sin which part soever he takes,-and unless it be his own fault he cannot think so; but some men are wild in their reasonings, and err in circles, and cannot untie the knot