Samuel Miller first preached these two sermons on suicide in New York City
in February 1805, and subsequently published them as a pamphlet, The Guilt,
Folly and Sources of Suicide: Two Discourses
(New York: T. and J. Swords, 1805). The text has been edited to bring it into
greater conformity with contemporary spelling, punctuation, and grammar.
Copyright © 1994 by
Presbyterian Heritage Publications
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publications.
From the moment of my consenting to publish the following discourses, I
resolved to inscribe them to you. In doing this, it is my aim not to conciliate
your attachment by flattery, nor by warm professions to proclaim my own
fidelity as your pastor; but to gain a larger share of your attention to a
subject which appears to me worthy of your most serious consideration.
If it is true, as I, with others, have expressed a belief, that the young
are the most apt to fall into the crime of suicide, it is obvious that these
discourses, though intended to have a general application, are especially
applicable to you. It is certain that in preparing them for the pulpit, and
afterwards for the press, the idea that they might, in some degree, promote
your welfare, was the object more particularly in my view the hope which I
most fondly cherished.
There is little prospect of success, on the principle of human probability,
in addressing those who have become inveterate in corrupt habits, or whose
minds are already prepared for the last act of violence which a despairing
mortal can commit. But to admonish the young; to instruct the inexperienced; to
warn those who are entering on the stage of life, against the errors, the
excesses, the false hopes, and the numberless delusions to which they are
exposed; and to endeavor to imbue those whose character and habits are yet
imperfectly formed; as they are among the most important, so they are also
among the most encouraging parts of our pastoral duty.
If, in these respects, the following pages should be found, even in a single
instance, productive of good, I shall consider myself as richly rewarded.
That you may "escape the pollutions" (cf. 2 Pet. 2:20) which
surround and assail you; that you may prove the comfort of your parents, the
ornament of the church, and the benefactors of society; that you may be
inspired with that heavenly wisdom which "hath length of days in her right
hand, and in her left hand riches and honor" (cf. Prov. 3:16); and that
you may, finally, through the power and grace of the Redeemer, be prepared to
live and reign with him forever; these, my dear young friends, are the cordial
wishes, the unceasing prayers of
Your affectionate pastor,
Samuel Miller
New York
March 1, 1805
"Then said
his wife unto him, 'Dost thou still retain thine integrity? Curse God, and
die.'
"But he said unto her,
'Thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaketh. What? shall we receive
good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?' "
Job 2:9-10
Job, in the days of his prosperity, was "the greatest of all the men of
the east" (Job 1:3). His immense wealth placed him in a high station, and
gave him an extensive and commanding influence. His disinterested and liberal
charity endeared him to every friend of human happiness. His wisdom and piety
excited the admiration, and rendered him the oracle, of his countrymen; and
surrounded by affectionate and dutiful children, he seems to have possessed, in
a large measure, every requisite for earthly enjoyment.
"When the ear heard him, then it blessed him, and when the eye saw him
it gave witness unto him. Because he delivered the poor that cried, and the
fatherless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was
ready to perish came upon him, and he caused the widow's heart to sing for
joy" (cf. Job 29:11-13). "When the young men saw him they hid
themselves, and the aged arose and stood up. In his presence, princes refrained
from talking, and the nobles held their peace" (cf. Job 29:8-10)."He
chose out their way, he sat as chief, and dwelt as a king among them" (cf.
Job 29:25).
How long he was permitted to enjoy this prosperity, the sacred historian has
not informed us. But in the process of time it pleased the Sovereign Disposer
to lay him low in adversity. He was deprived of his possessions by a variety of
disastrous occurrences. His sons and his daughters, in the midst of festive
enjoyment, were all cut off at a single stroke. The honors which, in his
prosperity, a selfish and deceitful world had heaped upon him, were now
withdrawn. And to complete his wretchedness, the venerable man himself was
smitten with a tormenting and loathsome disease. Sudden and melancholy reverse!
Lately rolling in princely affluence; now a beggar. In the morning greeted by a
numerous and happy offspring; in the evening childless. A few hours since
blessed with vigorous health; now tortured and disfigured by a disease which
renders life a burden. Once followed, and even loaded with testimonies of
public respect; now almost universally neglected, and "had in derision by
those whose fathers he would have disdained to have set with the dogs of his
flock" (cf. Job 30:1).
In the day of affliction, to have an enlightened, affectionate, and pious
friend, capable of soothing our pains and beguiling our sorrows; especially to
have the companion of our bosom, that "friend that sticketh closer than a
brother" (Prov. 18:24), of this character, is an inestimable blessing.
Many a man, by the tender endearments, and the prudent counsel, of a faithful
wife, has been guarded from important mistakes, and even snatched from
destruction.
But the wife of this afflicted saint was of a very different character.
Instead of the soother and lightener of his woes, she became his tormenter. Instead
of pointing him to the proper sources of consolation, she tempted him to
despair and death. How destitute at once of the softness of her sex, the
affection of a companion, and the decorum, to say nothing of the purity of
virtue, must that woman have been, who could approach her husband, already
overwhelmed by sorrow, with such language as this," 'Dost thou still
retain thine integrity?' Wilt thou still serve a master who, in return for all
thy faithfulness, has treated thee so unkindly? 'Curse God, and die' (Job 2:9)[1] Set at defiance that power which has now done its worst.
Live no longer in dependence upon him who has loaded thee with miseries. Be
thine own deliverer. Take refuge in a voluntary death from a world which offers
thee nothing but evil."
Here appears to be a direct and explicit proposal of suicide.[2]
And if ever there was a man who might either wisely or innocently have resorted
to this mode of terminating his sufferings, perhaps Job was that man. The most
abject poverty stared him in the face. The negligence and derision of his
former acquaintances must have made him almost willing to fly forever from the
sight of man. The strongest ties which bound him to the world had been broken in
the loss of his property, and in the death of his children. A distressing, and
apparently incurable, disease rendered all future enjoyment of life hopeless.
And the only near relative which a bereaving providence had left him, was a
grief instead of a comfort.
Many a modern infidel would, no doubt, pronounce these circumstances an
abundant justification of suicide, and would readily join this woman in her
wicked proposal, "Curse God, and die" (Job 2:9). But Job "feared
God, and eschewed evil" (Job 1:1). He had the magnanimity of a man, and
the fortitude of a believer. He, therefore, firmly and indignantly replied,
"Thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaketh. What? shall we
receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?" (Job
2:10).
It is my design, from this passage, to offer some remarks on the crime of
suicide: a crime of the deepest die; a crime which has become alarmingly
frequent in our land, and in our city;[3] a crime,
therefore, against which it becomes those who would "declare the whole
counsel of God" (cf. Acts 20:27) to bear public and solemn testimony.
By suicide is meant not merely
self-murder by immediate violence, but also the destruction of our own life by
wanton exposure to violence from others, or by any indirect means. The duellist is guilty of this crime. He who commits a felony
with the express view of being put to death, by the hand of public justice, is
also guilty of it; and, in general, everyone who, voluntarily and without
necessity, places himself in the way of danger.
There are occasions, indeed, on which it is the duty of men to put their
lives in jeopardy, and even resolutely to sacrifice them. The case of martyrdom is one instance of such duty, and the case of
just and necessary war is another. But it
is possible, in either of these cases, to court death foolishly and wickedly.
We are bound to use all lawful means to preserve our own lives; and, therefore,
he who, in any case whatever,
destroys his life, or who permits it to be destroyed, when he is able, without
denying the truth, or abandoning duty, to save it, is chargeable with the whole
guilt belonging to the crime which we are about to consider.
Perhaps some of my hearers will say, "What interest have we in the
discussion of such a subject? Does the preacher suppose that we are capable of
that miserable insanity, either intellectual or moral, which actuates
self-murder? Let him rather direct his reasoning and his rebukes against the
numerous other crimes to which we, or our children, may be in some measure
exposed. But let him not take up our time in showing the evil of suicide, against which every feeling of nature presents a
barrier, and of which every dictate of reason shows the egregious folly."
Brethren, be not deceived! Every individual who hears me has an interest in
this subject. Who can foresee the situation in which he may hereafter be
placed, or the temptations by which he may hereafter be assailed? Or who can
tell how soon the conduct of a near relative, or of a valued friend, may bring
the subject home, with the deepest interest, to his bosom? It is probable that
the most of those who have fallen into this deplorable sin were once as ready,
as any of my present hearers can now be, to think and to say, "What, is
thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?" (cf. 2 Kings 8:13). In
truth, it becomes depraved creatures, with regard to every sin, to be humble
and watchful; for there is no sin into which they may not fall, if forsaken by
restraining grace. That we may, therefore, be armed against the hour of
temptation ourselves, and that we may be able to convince and warn others, let
me request you seriously to attend, while I endeavor, first, to lay before you the guilt and folly of the sin in
question; and secondly, by
tracing the evil to its sources, to put you on your guard against such
principles and habits as may lead to danger.
I. My first object shall be to show that suicide is really a crime. This is
the more necessary, because the contrary has been asserted. There have been
some who professed to believe that, although no man has a right to take away
the life of another, yet every man has a
right to dispose of his own life.
In opposition to these, it is my purpose to show that suicide is a sin against
God, against human nature, against our fellow men, against all the dictates of
enlightened reason, and against all our interests and hopes beyond the grave.
Let us attend to each of these considerations in detail.
1. To destroy our own lives is A SIN AGAINST GOD. That God is the Author of
our existence; that he sent us into the world; and that our time, and talents,
as well as our persons, are his property, are self-evident propositions, which
none but an atheist will deny. To suppose that rational and moral creatures,
endowed with such capacities, and formed for such activity, could have come
into existence by accident, or without any specific destination, is too
unreasonable for credulity itself to admit. But if there is a God who made us,
who has a right to our services, and whose providence extends to all his
creatures and all their actions, then there is an end for which we were all made, a task which we are bound to accomplish, a term
of service which it is our duty to fulfill;
and, of course, he alone who placed us here has a right to decide when this
task is done, to judge when this term of service ought to close, and, in a
word, to dispose of the life and the talents which his power has bestowed.
This is the representation which the scriptures everywhere give of human
life. They speak of it as a term assigned,
a course marked out, a race
set before us. Hence, the pious Job asks,
"Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? Are not his days also
like the days of an hireling?" (Job 7:1). And in the spirit of the
principle which this interrogation implies, he resolves, "All the days of
my appointed time will I wait, till my change come" (Job 14:14). The same
lesson is taught by the apostle Paul, when he exhorts, "Let us run with
patience the race that is set before us" (Heb. 12:1); when he expresses an
earnest desire to "finish his course with joy" (cf. Acts 20:24); and
when, toward the close of life, he exclaims in holy triumph, "I have
finished my course, I have kept the faith" (2 Tim. 4:4).
Such is the language in which the inspired writers speak of the life of man:
a language which plainly teaches us that we are not at liberty to dispose of
our own lives,[4] or to determine the period of our
continuance in the world; but that we are to be patient and active as long as
God is pleased to retain us in the present state, and to wait his pleasure for
the period of our dismission. To take into our own hands the decision of this
question; to abandon, without leave, the station in which we are placed, is the
most unequivocal rebellion against God, the most direct opposition to his
providence, a presumptuous attempt to escape from his control, and an ignoble
breach of fidelity to a rightful Sovereign.
So consonant are these instructions of scripture with the dictates of
reason, that we find even a heathen moralist expressing himself on this subject
in language remarkably similar to that of the sacred volume. Socrates, after
being condemned to die, decides, in the strongest terms, against the lawfulness
of suicide. He declares that men are the property of God; that they are in his
custody; that they have no right, by a voluntary death, to escape from the
sphere of action in which he has placed them; and that those who do so are as
just the objects of divine displeasure and punishment as a slave who flees from
the service of his master.[5] Such are the sentiments
expressed by a heathen sage in his last moments when, with death immediately
before him, and surrounded by his beloved friends and pupils, he might be
supposed to utter the fulness of his heart.[6]
Some of the advocates of this crime have contended that, as God is a
benevolent being, who delights in the happiness of his creatures, he cannot be
supposed to regard with displeasure one who lays down his life when he ceases
to enjoy it. But if this position is admitted, then it will follow that every
man is at liberty to pursue his own happiness in whatever way he chooses; or,
which is the same thing, that no act is displeasing to God, or a crime, which
the agent commits with a view of promoting his own happiness: a doctrine which,
if conceded, would lead to the justification of the most atrocious crimes;
would destroy the firmest principles of moral obligation; and render the
caprice of man, instead of divine law, the ultimate rule of action.
It is impossible, then, to justify suicide upon any other principles than
those of atheism; or, at least, without
a total denial of the government and providence of God. And this remark will
receive much confirmation when we recollect that the greater part, if not all
those who have undertaken, at different periods, to be the advocates of the
crime under consideration, either, were more than suspected of holding atheistical
tenets, or avowed principles altogether
inconsistent with any rational system of theism.
To consider man as a creature independent, free from the restraints of
divine authority, at liberty to dispose of his own life and talents without
reference to the will of the Creator what is this but practical atheism? What
is this but a figment of an impious imagination, which though sometimes formed
in minds professing to believe in the existence and providence of God, can only
be cherished by a heart radically hostile to his character and government, and
secretly desirous, if it were possible, to hurl him from his throne?
2. Suicide is A SIN AGAINST HUMAN NATURE. If there is a crime that may be
called unnatural, this is emphatically
that crime. It offers violence to the principle of self-preservation, which is
innate and universal. It is an outrage on the dignity of those faculties with
which the Author of nature has endowed us; and it is not less inconsistent with
the virtues of fortitude and self-command, which so highly exalt and adorn the
human character.
The fear of death is one of the strongest principles that dwell in the bosom
of man. But why should this principle operate not only more generally and
strongly in human beings than in the other animals, but almost exclusively in
the former? It is difficult to assign any other reason for this fact, than that
the all-wise Creator intended it as a barrier against the crime which we are
considering: a crime which the brutal tribes have neither temptation nor
ability to commit; but against which man, depraved, afflicted, and covered with
evil, requires to be guarded by restraints of the most powerful kind. He, then,
who breaks through these restraints, who surmounts that abhorrence of
self-destruction, which the Author of nature has so closely interwoven with
every fiber of our constitution, is as great a monster in morals as an atheist
in religion, or as the most hideous assemblage of deformities in animal nature.
But suicide is not only repugnant to every genuine feeling of human nature; it also offers insult to every just
principle of human dignity. I know that the advocates of suicide are, in
general, the most loquacious assertors of the dignity of man. This is the idol which they profess to worship, and
contending for its honors they consider as their greatest merit. But does it
comport with the dignity of our nature to act the part of cowards,
poltroons, and deserters? Have fortitude, patience, and self-command ceased
to be virtues? Putting moral and religious obligation out of the question, is
it not more honorable for a rational being to bear afflictions with firmness,
to meet misfortunes with magnanimity, and to surmount difficulties with
triumph, than to sink under their pressure, or to fly from the conflict?
The outrage which this crime offers to the noble faculties with which the
Creator has endowed us also deserves our serious consideration. If the soul of
man were less important, if his faculties were less dignified, the extinction
of life would be an event comparatively trivial; the violence which it does to
our nature would be of smaller account. But voluntarily to destroy a life,
which is connected with the exercise of such exalted powers; wantonly to cut
off a moral agent, so capable of activity and usefulness; to extinguish talents
so rich, various and productive; is offering a violence to human nature as
degrading as it is criminal. Nor is this reasoning invalidated by contending,
as some advocates of suicide have done, that to destroy this mortal life is
liberating these noble faculties from a species of imprisonment, and
transferring them to a more enlarged and useful sphere of action. How do they
learn this? The immortality of the soul, and a future state of bliss or
suffering, are fully ascertained by revelation only: a revelation which, while
it unfolds to our view another world, solemnly forbids us to precipitate
ourselves by suicide into its awful realities.
3. Suicide is A SIN AGAINST SOCIETY. The benevolent Creator, who placed us
in this world, has bound us to our fellow men, by many strong and interesting
relations. These differ in number and in kind, according to circumstances; but
they exist in all cases, and under all varieties of condition. It is a dictate
of nature, as well as a doctrine of revelation, that "no man liveth to
himself, and no man dieth unto himself" (cf. Rom. 14:7). In the civil
magistrate, in the minister of the gospel, and in all who by their office,
their talents, or their wealth hold conspicuous stations, this crime is
peculiarly atrocious, because they are connected with those around them by more
numerous and more important ties than other men. And when such persons, regardless
of all the obligations which bind them to society, abandon the post at which
they are placed, they act a part which deserves to be stigmatized as selfish,
unsocial, and base. Instead of living to bless mankind, by their instruction,
their example, their beneficence, and their prayers, they meanly fly from the
scene of labor and usefulness; and, attentive only to their own feelings, they
deliberately rob their fellow men of all the benefits which it was in their
power to confer by a patient course of piety and virtue. Nor is this all. When
such an one destroys his life, he not only deprives society of an important
member, and withholds from it the benefits which he might have bestowed, by
continuing to live; but he also inflicts a positive injury, by displaying a
mischievous example, and by recommending, as far as the influence of his
conduct reaches, the same practice to others.
But admitting that he who meditates suicide is neither a magistrate, nor a
minister of the gospel, nor bound to society by any public or peculiar ties;
yet let it be remembered that the community has just claims upon all its members, from the highest to the lowest; and
that to violate these claims, or to abandon the duties which they involve, is a
criminal desertion, a fraud practiced upon our species, an injury, the extent
of which it is impossible to calculate, but which we have reason to believe is,
in most cases, serious and lasting. Nor let anyone plead that his case is
peculiar, and that society can lose but little by the destruction of a single
life: for if one individual, because he feels the inclination, has a right to
take away his own life, then every other individual who feels a similar
inclination has the same right. And if everyone were to think and act
accordingly, into what a field of blood would our world be converted! What
darkness and mourning would cover the face of society! What distrust, anxiety,
and consternation should reign in every family, and torture every bosom!
But we may go further. Besides the injury done to society in general, he who
destroys his own life seldom fails to inflict the deepest wounds upon all who
stand more immediately related to him in domestic and social life. Say,
miserable man! [you] who are contemplating the crime of self-murder, have you
no parent, the evening of whose days, by
this crime, would be embittered, or whose grey hairs would be brought down with
sorrow to the grave? Have you no amiable partner of thy life, who would be precipitated by this step
into the deepest affliction? Have you no tender babes, who by your desertion would be left fatherless, and
exposed to all the dangers of an unpitying world? Have you no brethren or sisters to share in the grief, and the disgrace of your unworthy conduct? Are
there no friends who love you,
who would weep over your folly and sin, and feel themselves wounded by thy
fall?
In short, would the execution of your wicked purpose disturb the peace of no
family? torture no bosom of sensibility and kindness? defraud no creditor?
plunge no friend into difficulty? rob no fellow creature of advantage or
enjoyment? Ah! if the evil terminated in your own person, though still a crime,
it would be comparatively small. But the consequences of such a step would
probably extend beyond your conception, and last longer than your memory. Stay
then, guilty man! Stay your murderous hand! Extinguish not the happiness and
the hopes of a family it may be, of many families! Forbear, O forbear to
inflict wounds which no time can heal, and which may tempt survivors to wish
that you had never been born!
Let no one say that he is useless in
the world; that his life is of no value, either to his relatives, or to
mankind; and, therefore, that he does no injury by taking it away. If any man
is really useless, it is his disgrace and his sin; and to think of justifying
one crime by pleading that he has committed the previous one, is as wretched
logic, as it is detestable morality.
But the degree of our usefulness in society is a question concerning which,
as we are not competent to judge, so we are not at liberty to decide for
ourselves. The victim of depression and melancholy may sometimes think himself
an unprofitable member of the community, a mere cumberer of the ground, when his services are really substantial and important.
And even admitting that he is, at present, so afflicted, so infirm, so vicious,
so degraded, or so unfavorably situated in any respect, as to be entirely
useless, has he lost every capacity of being otherwise in time to come? Or, if
this capacity is now lost, is every possibility of recovering it precluded? May
not his infirmities be hereafter removed? the clouds which hang over him
dissipated? his vices be repented of and abandoned? his reputation be restored?
and his means of usefulness become, if not great and extensive, at least
important in a moderate sphere? If these things are duly considered, it will be
manifest that there is not an individual breathing who can, with propriety
plead, in defense of despair and suicide, that he is useless; as there is
certainly no individual, on this side of the grave, whose life either
is not, or might not be, of some value to mankind.
It may be demonstrated, then, that suicide is generally prompted by the most
sordid and unworthy selfishness. It is a
crime which sacrifices everything on the altar of individual feeling. It is a practice which reverses all the doctrines of
social benevolence, and sets up as a principle of action the detestable maxim,
that private caprice and private enjoyment are to be regarded as more worthy
objects of pursuit than public happiness. It is a crime, therefore, of which
even an atheist, on his own principles, ought to be ashamed, but which the
Christian should regard with peculiar abhorrence.
4. If we examine THE MOTIVES which immediately prompt the unhappy to despair
and suicide, we shall see, perhaps, still more strongly, the sin and folly of
their conduct. No considerations whatever can possibly justify a step which has
been shown to be a sin against God, against human nature, and against our
fellow men. But if we attend to the motives which have generally led to this
crime, we shall find them not only insufficient to justify it, but also
manifesting a degree of weakness and infatuation altogether unworthy of the
rational character.
Let us go to yonder victim of impatience and despair, who wanders silent,
melancholy, and alone, meditating the termination of his sorrows by the pistol,
or the poisonous draught. Let us approach, and inquire why he is disgusted with
life.
You are embarrassed in your circumstances; you have been robbed of your property by fraud, or by disastrous
occurrences; you have been precipitated from the height of affluence to the
most abject poverty; "you cannot dig, to beg you are ashamed" (cf.
Luke 16:3), and therefore resolve to fly from life. But before you take this
dreadful and irrevocable step, pause a moment, and answer me the following
questions. Is a large portion of property indispensably necessary to happiness?
Have not thousands been contented and happy with as small a pittance as that
which you yet possess? Nay, have not some found more real enjoyment after being
thus reduced, than they found in the days of their affluence and prosperity?
Was not the Saviour of the world, when he sojourned upon earth, without "a
place where to lay his head?" (cf. Matt. 8:20; Luke 9:58). And has he not,
by his example, made poverty and sufferings honorable?
Besides, though you are now in straitened circumstances, may not a kind
providence hereafter smile upon you, and reward your industry with comfort and
plenty? Who can tell but that, like Job, your "latter end" (cf. Job
42:12), in this respect, "may be more blessed than your beginning?"
But even supposing the worst, will you destroy a life on which so much depends,
for the sake of treasures which are transient and unsatisfying; for a little
glittering dust, which perishes in the using; "for so much trash as may be
grasped thus?" Miserable estimate! Ignoble alternative! Live! and exhibit the
sublime, the edifying spectacle of one struggling with want, and yet holding
fast his integrity.
If we inquire of another, we shall find that he is hurried on to despair by
the prospect of disgrace. He has,
perhaps, been betrayed into infamous crimes, or led, less criminally, into
circumstances which, he fears, have destroyed his reputation, and he cannot
think of surviving his character. But, alas! deluded man! are you so
thoughtless as not to perceive that your calculation is as false as the design
which you harbor is criminal? If you are now in disgrace, what advantage will
you gain by hiding yourself in the grave? Certainly none. On the contrary, you
will aggravate instead of diminishing the evil, because you will seal yourself
up under eternal infamy, and cut off all hope of regaining public esteem.
Rather live! and, by a course of worthy actions, endeavor to retrieve you
character. Live! and testify by your future conduct that you are neither
irreclaimable nor unprincipled.
A third is, perhaps, afflicted with a
tormenting, or apparently incurable disease. He prefers death to a life of torture, and therefore
determines to wait for his regular dismission from suffering. To such an one I
would say, "No man can certainly tell whether a disease which he thinks
incurable may not afterwards be found to admit of some remedy, or at least of
some alleviation. Dark and dismal as your prospect now is, you may, like Job,
be again restored to health and enjoyment; or if not perfectly restored, your
burden may be rendered comparatively light and tolerable. But supposing that
your case is hopeless, and that your whole life is destined to be a scene of
suffering: which is most becoming in a rational being, and especially in a Christian to bear suffering with firmness, or to fly from it
by illicit and cowardly means? What is it that raises to such an elevation the
character of the martyrs and other primitive sufferers for the gospel? What is
it in their conduct which men of all habits and modes of thinking admire, and
which sometimes even 'extorts a trembling homage' from the blaspheming infidel?
It is that divine magnanimity which deliberately chose to suffer the most
excruciating tortures, rather than to escape from them by the sacrifice of
principle, or by yielding to forbidden demands."
A fourth, it may be, will plead that
he has the certain prospect of an ignominious death, by the hand of public justice or of a still more
dreadful execution, by the lingering torments of savage foes and he is, therefore, justifiable
in dispatching himself in a more private and easy manner. Such have been the
reasonings and conduct of some renowned personages, whose conduct on other
occasions was more heroic, and more worthy of the rational character. But the
same reasoning which was employed in the case of painful and incurable disease
applies equally to this case. No man can be absolutely certain that the death which he considers as inevitable will
be realized. Divine providence has frequently interfered, in a most
extraordinary manner, for the deliverance of those from whom all prospect of
relief, from human sources, was cut off.
But, setting this argument aside, who can tell what important ends the death
which he fears is intended, by infinite wisdom, to answer both to himself and
to society? Unreserved submission to the will of God is always safe; while the
smallest attempt to counteract this will is always both criminal and dangerous.
Had those celebrated heroes of old, who embraced a voluntary death, rather than
fall into the hands of enemies, or die by public execution, consented to live,
and meet the dispensation of providence with unshaken fortitude, they would
have displayed a more sublime heroism; and none can tell how much they might
have promoted the welfare and glory of their country.
Another has been disappointed in love;
and, in the first emotions of despondency, considers life as insupportable.
That tender passion which binds the sexes together, and lays the foundation of
domestic happiness, is despised by none but those who never felt it; is
condemned by none but those who renounce the authority of God, and are enemies
of human happiness. But while this passion is allowed to be most important,
and, when properly regulated, most laudable, yet let us not imagine, like those
who borrow their principles of morality from the stage, or from novels, that love is the main business of life, and the attainment of its
wishes all that is worth living for. There are considerations which should be
regarded as paramount to everything of this kind. There may be, and there
doubtless is, in this respect, an idolatry, as criminal as it is unworthy of
the rational character. But allowing to each case of disappointed attachment
all that importance which the subject of it may require, how many considerations
immediately present themselves which should induce the sufferer to lay aside
despondency, and determine to live! A little time may restore peace to a mind
which is now perturbed and melancholy. The object fondly sought may hereafter
be attained, and abundantly reward a long and anxious pursuit. Or if this is
not the case, a kind providence may have in store for the discouraged and
despairing a more suitable and a more happy connection.
A sixth, perhaps young in years, but
old in dissipation and
vice, has run the round of what he calls
pleasures; and having found little happiness in this course, and supposing that
life can afford nothing better, he resolves to escape from a scene in which he
finds no objects that can any longer interest or gratify him. This is not
infrequently the case with those wretched mortals who have sought no enjoyments
but those of the sensual kind; who have cultivated no taste but for scenes of
dissipation and licentiousness. But how degraded is that mind that can find no interesting
employment, no gratifying pursuit in such a world as this! Where are those
elevated pleasures which arise from the cultivation of our minds, from the
acquisition of knowledge, from walking with chosen companions in the delightful
fields of literature and science? Where are the sublime gratifications which
flow from feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, instructing the ignorant, and
directing the miserable wanderer "in the homeward way?" Where are the
heavenly pleasures which arise from the exercise of grace and the discharge of
holy duties? Can a world in which these are to be enjoyed be said to afford
nothing that is worth living for? Blind and mistaken mortal! make trial of some
of these pleasures; explore some of these paths to happiness, which you have
hitherto neglected, and see if they be not worthy of your regard. Above all,
open the volume of God, unfold the precious record of redeeming love, and there
learn, by delightful experience, that the gospel provides employment and
pleasure for the mind, as much superior to the low gratifications of the
sensualist "as the heavens are higher than the earth" (Isa. 55:9).
Finally, a vain worshipper of human applause supposes suicide to be a
distinction of bold, independent, and elevated minds, and therefore becomes his
own murderer to get a name, to evince that he has firmness and courage enough
to commit the crime. But we may say of suicide, what has often and justly been said of duelling: that it is, in most cases, the result of cowardice rather than real courage. A distinguished infidel, who lately died, when the
dead body of his son, who had destroyed his own life, was found, exclaimed,
"Poor insane coward!" and was never afterwards heard to mention the
unhappy event.[7] Such, mistaken votary of fame! such is
the sentiment that spontaneously arises in almost every mind in contemplating
the conduct of the self-murderer! And thus will it generally be found, that
what is fondly regarded as a source of honor, is in reality a monument of
shame.
But leaving out of sight the disgraceful nature of this conduct, let me ask
him who contemplates this mode of raising himself in the estimation of his
fellow man, whether there are not a thousand ways in which he may more worthily
display his courage than by such a miserable act of weakness and folly? Is the
exercise and the display of magnanimity your object? Go, and in the faithful
discharge of Christian duties in the achievements of benevolence, in ruling
your own spirit, and in opposing error and vice in every form you will find
scope enough for the firmest courage, and the greatest elevation of soul. Go,
set your face as a flint against the sneers and blasphemies of unbelief; wage
inexorable war with the Hydra of corrupt fashion; contend with zeal and
perseverance for the faith once delivered to the saints; submit to labor,
self-denial, and ridicule for the sake of doing good; in a word, dare to stand
at your post, and to be faithful in the discharge of every duty, whoever may oppose
you, and whatever it may cost you. This is magnanimity worthy of men, and of
Christians. This is magnanimity which will live and be remembered with honor,
when "the name of the wicked shall rot" (Prov. 10:7) when that
wretched vanity, which so mistakenly sought for a name, shall be buried in
oblivion.
Such are some of the considerations which have frequently prompted men to
despair and suicide. Pride, vanity, impatience, cowardice, a criminal love of
the world, a false estimate of happiness, the most unworthy and degrading
selfishness: these, however decorated with plausible names, are the real
motives which prompt to nine-tenths of the suicides that occur. But are they
motives which an enlightened and virtuous mind can possibly vindicate? No,
brethren, they are motives which reason forbids, which religion condemns, and
which even a serious infidel must regard with disapprobation.
5. Once more, suicide IS SOLEMNLY FORBIDDEN BY ALL OUR INTERESTS AND HOPES
BEYOND THE GRAVE.
It is common to see announced, in our vehicles of public intelligence, that
such an one, in a melancholy hour, "put an end to his own existence." It were well for those who live and die in
rebellion against God, if death were really the termination of their existence;
for hideous as is the thought of sinking into the gulf of annihilation, even
this gulf would be preferable to the abyss of the damned. But, alas! wretched
as this hope is, it is cherished in vain. The infidel, indeed, will tell me
that death is nothing; that it is only "diverting from its ordinary
channel a portion of that red fluid" which appears necessary to the vital
functions; that in destroying his own life, he only alters the modification of
a small portion of matter only arrests the motion of an animal machine. For,
let it be distinctly remembered, that there is no class of men who go so far in
denying the real honors, and trampling on the noblest prerogatives of human
nature, as those who are ever prating about the dignity and perfectibility of man. These are the proud teachers who would
persuade us that man is a machine; that the soul is a non-entity; that eternity
is a dream; and, of course, that the destruction of life is a trifle unworthy
of notice.[8]
But woe to the unhappy mortal who, embracing this impious delusion, lifts
the murderous hand against his own life! How will he be astonished and
confounded to discover that the extinction of this moral life is something
infinitely more serious than had ever been told him; that it is cutting the
"slender thread on which hang everlasting things;" that it is
terminating the day of grace; that it is putting an end to every opportunity of
repentance and reformation; that it is hurrying an immortal spirit before the
tribunal of its Judge, and fixing the condition of the soul in endless misery,
or in endless joy!
But perhaps it will be asked, "Can we entertain no hope of the final
salvation of one who destroys his own life?" This is a question which it
ill becomes a blind and erring mortal to decide. It is possible that a child of
God may be so far under the power of mental derangement, as to rush unbidden
into the presence of his Father. I believe that instances of this kind have
sometimes occurred; and, if so, concerning the salvation of such persons no
doubt can be entertained. But it may be questioned, on very solid ground,
whether a real Christian, in the exercise of his reason, ever became his own executioner.
Let those inclined to adopt a more favorable opinion, ponder well that
solemn declaration of the Spirit of God, "No murderer hath eternal life
abiding in him" (1 John 3:15). How small, then, is the proportion of
self-murderers for whom we can cherish the least hope beyond the grave! When
men leave the world in an act of daring and deliberate rebellion against God,
distrusting his providence, agitated by the worst of passions, and trampling
upon all the obligations which bind them to their Creator and their fellow men,
how can Charity herself avoid considering them as "strangers from the
covenants of promise"(Eph. 2:12), and weeping over them as "children
of perdition!" (cf. John 17:12).
This conclusion will be confirmed, if we look into the sacred history, and
examine the characters of Saul, Ahithophel, and Judas, the only instances of
suicide which the pen of inspiration has recorded. Do we discover in the last
moments of these wretched self-destroyers anything to warrant a hope concerning
their state after death? Alas! no. We find them throughout manifesting that
spirit of pride and enmity to God, and that hateful compound of malice and
despair, which characterize the fiend, and which torture the bosoms of the
accursed in their dark abodes.
With what solemn language, then, does the consideration of his future
destiny address everyone who contemplates this mode of terminating earthly
sorrows! Pause, O man! and recollect, before the irrevocable step is taken
recollect that you are to exist beyond the grave! Are you, then, prepared to
die? Are you sure miserable as your present state may be are you sure that
death will not land you in still greater misery: in that prison of eternal
despair, "where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched"
(cf. Mark 9:44 ff.), and where the heaviest calamities of this life will sink
into nothing when compared with that "torment, the smoke of which
ascendeth for ever and ever?" (cf. Rev. 13:11).
Such are the guilt, the folly, and the doom of the self-murderer. May God of
his infinite mercy preserve us all from an infatuation so deplorable, from a
crime of such complicated malignity! "Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be like his!" (Num. 23:10). Amen.
We have seen the guilt and folly of suicide. With respect to such an evil we
cannot be too fully apprized of its sources, nor be too carefully put on our
guard against those sentiments and practices which may lead to the fatal
temptation. Let us, therefore, proceed, in pursuance of our plan,
II. To develop some of the sources of this crime, and to point out some of
the principles and habits which expose to danger.
There are many who believe that suicide always arises from insanity. If by this is meant, that every self-murderer is
impelled by a dreadful infatuation,
which renders him a proper object of pity as well as of blame, it is doubtless
a just opinion. But if the meaning is, that everyone who commits this crime
ought to be, of course, considered as in that state of mental derangement which
is commonly denominated insanity, and which places its unhappy subject, for the
time being, out of the class of moral agents, it is, I am persuaded, not only
an error, but also an error of the most mischievous kind. Instances frequently
occur, in which men destroy their lives with the utmost apparent coolness, with
great deliberation, after long and formal reasonings on the subject, and after
the most regular disposition of their worldly affairs. To pronounce such
persons insane, is a departure
from every principle of probability, and from all propriety of language.
It will be said, perhaps, that the commission of a crime so repugnant to
every feeling of nature, and to every dictate of reason, can never be supposed
to take place but by a person of disordered mind. But is not the murder of a
parent, a husband, a wife, or a child, also an unnatural as well as an
atrocious crime? Yet, when cases of this kind occur, we generally and justly
ascribe them rather to great moral depravity than to intellectual derangement.
But those who ascribe suicide, in all cases, to insanity, are not merely
chargeable with a speculative error. Their doctrine is calculated to do
practical mischief. It tends to diminish, in the minds of those who embrace it,
the moral odium which ought ever to be
attached to the crime in question; and it tends, no doubt, further, to divert
the attention of men from other and much more frequent sources of this crime,
and to put them off their guard with respect to some of the most formidable
enemies of our happiness and our lives. It shall, therefore, be my endeavor, in
the sequel of this discourse, to expose some of the principal sentiments and
practices which have already proved fatal to thousands, and by which thousands
more are daily placed in circumstances the most perilous and threatening.
1. Suicide may be traced in many, perhaps in most cases, to FALSE PRINCIPLES
IN RELIGION AND MORALS.
The most powerful ties which bind men to the present state of existence, are
allowed, on all hands, to be the love of life and its enjoyments, and a strong
sense of moral and religious duty. But if the former is taken away, as it
frequently is, by a series of afflictions, how perilous, how deplorable is the
situation of him who is either destitute of the latter, or has a feeble
impression of its importance! We may confidently assert that, in the large
family of woe, there are thousands who, if they were not restrained by their principles, would, long since, have laid down the burden of
life, and abandoned, without leave, the station in which providence has placed
them. Every opinion, therefore, which is adverse to this sense of duty every
opinion which tends to make God less an object of fear and love, the standard
of holiness less powerful, sin less odious, the soul less precious, and
eternity less awful must obviously weaken the barriers against suicide;
because all such opinions render life, in the estimation of those who embrace
them, less important, and death a less interesting and solemn event.
Thus, when a man believes that there is no moral Governor of the universe;
no Judge to whom he is accountable for his actions; no heaven to be sought; no
hell to be avoided; will he not, of course, feel himself at liberty to dispose
of his own life at pleasure? And if he is at any time weary of existence, and
finds the affections which bind him to his family and friends more than
counterbalanced by the pressure of suffering, what is there to prevent his
taking refuge in the grave? It is true, indeed, as was formerly observed, there
are strong reasons why even the atheist
ought to condemn and abhor suicide; but it is equally true, that the native
tendency of his principles is to cherish that cold selfishness, that proud
impatience, and that gloomy despair, which have so often prompted, and which so
naturally prompt men, to fly from life whenever it becomes a burden.
Nor is it merely the extreme of infidelity, or total atheism, which may be considered as leading to the sin in
question. To believe that the God who "judgeth the earth" is a being
"altogether such an one as ourselves" (cf. Ps. 57:11; 50:21); to deny
his authority over us; to regard his threatenings as empty formalities, and his
mercy as mere connivance at sin: in short, to adopt any radical error
concerning his character and will, the relation which we sustain to him, or the
genius of the gospel every mistake of this kind has a tendency, in proportion
to its magnitude, to weaken the sense of moral obligation, to take away from
the mind its most precious supports, and to render it the dupe of every
impatient feeling, and the sport of every desperate passion.
Do you demand proof of this? Inquire at what periods, and in what
communities, the crime in question has been most common, and you will find that
it has been precisely at those periods, and in those communities, in which
impiety and profligacy were most prevalent. In the early ages of the Roman
republic, we are told, that suicide was seldom committed. But when luxury,
aided by the Epicurean and Stoical philosophy, had corrupted their simplicity
and virtue, the Romans soon began to seek shelter in voluntary death from their
misfortunes and the effects of their vices; and it was not long before this
crime attained a most alarming frequency among that people.
A comparison of the state of opinions and morals in different parts of
modern Europe, would lead, it is believed, to a similar result. And the history
of our own country, beyond all question, illustrates and confirms the position
before us. At a period not very remote, when simple and industrious habits
characterized even our populous cities, and when licentious principles were
comparatively little known, a case of self-murder was one of the rarest
occurrences. But more lately, with the increase of luxury and infidelity, we
have seen this unnatural crime every day gaining ground.
Do you call for evidence still more pointed and explicit? Examine those
apologies and attempted justifications of their conduct which self-murderers
have frequently left for the information of survivors, and you will seldom fail
to perceive that either total infidelity, or some other modification of
anti-Christian opinions, perverted their judgment, corrupted all their
reasonings on the subject, and impelled them to the fatal deed. One professes
to believe that there is no God; another denies the doctrine of his providence;
a third supposes that he is "all mercy," and that a disposition to
punish sin makes no part of his character; and all agree in asserting that men
have a right to dispose of that life which the Creator gave, and which he alone
can restore.
There is probably no perpetrator of this crime, from the blind atheist, who sits in Christian light, to the deluded Gentoo
[Hindu], immersed in pagan darkness,[9] who does not
reconcile his mind to the wicked purpose either by the total rejection of
religion, or by the adoption of erroneous and corrupt opinions. The mischief
done by false principles in such cases as these, is too evident to be
questioned, and too shocking to be contemplated without horror.
And here I cannot help remarking more explicitly, what was transiently
hinted in another place, that the mischievous influence on popular opinions
produced by many dramatic representations,
and by licentious novels, may
probably be considered as leading to many cases of the crime before us. Perhaps
some will pronounce this a far-fetched and illiberal supposition. But let me
ask such objectors, whether many of these compositions do not make virtue and
religion appear contemptible, and vice honorable, attractive, and triumphant?
Do they not frequently put corrupt opinions into the mouth of some favorite
hero, the splendor of whose character, in other respects, is made to embellish
the most detestable sentiments, and the force of whose eloquence is employed to
recommend the most criminal maxims? Do they not often represent the most odious
crimes that mortals can commit, and suicide among the rest, as venial faults,
and sometimes as no faults at all? In a word, are not many of them constructed
precisely as if their leading object were to frame an apology for every
passion, and to plead for the indulgence of every corrupt propensity?[10] Is it far-fetched or illiberal to say that such
compositions have a tendency favorable to suicide, and that those who
habitually delight in and peruse them are in the high road of danger? No,
brethren, it is rather a subject of astonishment and regret that so many who
bear the Christian name appear to be so little impressed with a sense of this
danger, and that some even doubt its reality.
Infidelity, then, or, what is little
if any better, those lax principles of religion, which make God an
accommodating and capricious being, his law a solemn mockery, and his gospel a
minister of sin, may be considered as the fatal delusion which is not only
poisoning the hearts and corrupting the morals of multitudes, but which is also
daily precipitating thousands into premature graves. Where this delusion
reigns, no virtue can be considered as stable, no moral tie as permanent, no
life as secure. This is the blind and relentless guide who first flatters,
deceives, and plunges into misery; and then, having no consolation to
administer, with cold indifference prepares the instrument of death, puts it
into the hand of his victim, and, with "demon smile," prompts him to
the murderous purpose.
Mortals! behold your danger, and fly from it! When you listen to the sneers
and suggestions of the infidel, remember that you are not only listening to one
who would destroy the hopes of the soul, but who may also be regarded as
indirectly a conspirator against your lives. Avoid with abhorrence his
principles and his artifices. Be it your study to be early instructed and fixed
in those principles which will enable you to detect his fallacies, to answer
his arguments, and to despise his sneers. Unless you are thus armed, there is
no danger to which you may not be considered as exposed.
Ah! how perilous, how pitiable is the situation of that youth who is
permitted to go forth on the stage of action, without principles, without any
acquaintance with the gospel, without a knowledge either of the dangers to
which he is exposed, or the means of defense! What can we expect of such an
one, but that, like the mariner who ventures abroad on the trackless ocean,
without compass or chart, he will be deceived by every false appearance, become
the sport of every tempest, and be, at length, either dashed on the rocks, or
swallowed up in the merciless waves?
2. Another source to which we may trace many instances of suicide is AN
EARLY AND EXCESSIVE INDULGENCE IN THE PLEASURES OF LIFE.
When sensual pleasures are sought and indulged under the restrictions, and
with that moderation which the law of God, as well as reason requires, they, no
doubt, have their value, and are to be regarded as a substantial part of human
enjoyment. When this economy of pleasure,
if I may so express it, is early and diligently observed, that vigor, both of body
and mind, which is so necessary to earthly happiness, will generally be
retained till the close of life. But when worldly pleasures become our chief
business, the grand object of pursuit, they never fail to disappoint
themselves, and to defeat their own purpose. The most exquisite gratification,
when frequently repeated, and especially when carried to excess, palls upon the
sense; the capacity for enjoying it diminishes with each inordinate repetition;
and when indulgence is carried still further, it produces disgust and loathing.
Yes, my young friends, he who makes haste to enjoy life may "spread happiness into wild
luxuriance," may appear, for a time, to taste the most enviable felicity;
but he is over-drawing from that fund of enjoyment which should exhilarate his
following years; he is "exhausting that radical vigor" which is
necessary to render his cheerfulness permanent; and all that can be expected,
after a little while, is languor, satiety, and weariness of life.
That such an infatuated course has sometimes produced these melancholy
effects, and terminated in suicide, is too well attested to admit of
controversy. An eminent medical writer[11] tells us that a
gentleman of polished manners, and comfortable circumstances, one day said to
him, "A ride out in the morning, and a warm parlor and a pack of cards in
the afternoon, is all that life affords;" and that, in a short time
afterwards, to show that such a life had lost, in his estimation, all its
charms, he shot himself. The annals of suicide, beyond doubt, record many cases
of a similar kind. Those wretched beings who, by early excesses, as irrational
as they are criminal, have exhausted all their sources of enjoyment, and lost
all relish of life, not infrequently terminate their mad career by this
unnatural crime.[12] The sordid objects of their idolatry
ceasing to be a refuge from themselves, they sink under the burden of their own
minds.
How miserable, then, is the prospect, and how extreme the danger, of him who
has grown up destitute of all taste for any pleasures but those of the sensual
kind; who finds no happiness but in the whirl of dissipation, in the sound of
the viol, in licentious company, or in the luxurious indulgence of the festive
board; who has run round and round again the whole circle of enjoyments of
which he is capable, and can find nothing new to interest or gratify him? No
wonder that such an one should be frequently ready to say, "My soul is
weary of my life" [Job 10:1]. No wonder that he should "fill up the
circle of his joys long before he has completed the measure of his duration,
and either wretchedly sit down for the remainder of his days, in gloomy
discontent, or rashly cut them short in despair."
3. A habit of INTEMPERATE DRINKING frequently leads to weariness of life,
despair, and suicide.
It would be impossible, in the bounds of a common discourse, to trace and
enumerate all the evils arising from this pernicious indulgence. Its
destructive effects on the bodies, the minds, the estates, the reputation, and
all the comforts of those who yield themselves to its power, form one of the
most melancholy chapters in the history of man. But in reciting the numberless
evils to which intemperance gives rise, we may unquestionably consider suicide as among the most conspicuous and dreadful. I speak
not now of the tendency of this sin indirectly to destroy life; to injure the bodily health; to
bring on languor, organic obstructions and derangements, the most loathsome and
tormenting diseases, the vitiation of the whole system, and finally death.[13] I speak not now of those poisonous effects of the
intoxicating draught, which are proclaimed by the pale looks, the emaciated
forms, the trembling hands, and the tottering step of multitudes around us, who
are gradually sinking into untimely graves. On this picture of human
degradation and destruction I forbear, at present, to dwell; and God grant that
none of those who now hear me may ever become acquainted with it by personal
experience!
But I speak of those instances in which habits of intemperance have so
perverted and disordered the mind, so clouded every prospect, so tortured the
animal feelings, or so plunged their miserable subjects into melancholy and
despair, as to tempt them to take refuge from the burden of suffering in a
voluntary death. Instances of this kind are by no means rare. Rare, did I say?
It is probable that a large portion of the suicides which occur are directly or
remotely connected with this species of intemperance.
The course by which habits of intoxication conduct men to this catastrophe
is direct and natural. While these habits debilitate the intellectual, and
pervert the moral faculties, they inflame the passions, and add new strength to
every corrupt propensity. While they weaken the power of self-command, they
give a force to the appetites, and a turbulence to the feelings, which require
a more than ordinary share of self-government. They derange the nervous system;
give rise to a host of morbid sensations; produce languor, self-loathing, and
madness;[14] and from these the transition is short and
rapid to weariness of life, despair, and suicide.
Every drunkard, then, may be said to be in danger of falling into this
crime. In his intervals of sobriety and reflection, he may imagine that such an
event is impossible. Every feeling of his nature, and every principle of his
heart, may rise with indignation against it. But in those periods of
degradation, when he is under the power of the destructive stimulus; when
reason is dethroned; when passion, in all its brute fierceness, bears sway;
when torturing sensations, self-reproaches, and gloomy prospects render life a
burden, he stands on the brink of a precipice, into which no one can assure him
that he may not, in an evil hour, desperately plunge.
4. Another habit, which frequently leads to the crime under consideration,
is that of GAMING [gambling].
The evils arising from the vice of gaming, like those of drunkenness, are
too numerous to be recounted within moderate limits, and too dreadful to be
contemplated without horror. Among the many dangers attending this vice, one,
and by no means the smallest, is that it is, more than almost any other, delusive and fascinating. With regard to most other crimes, their guilt is too
obvious to be denied, and their odium too flagrant to be encountered without a
blush. But in gaming there is a semblance of decorum and fairness which
reconciles to the practice multitudes who mean to support a character for
probity; a magic charm, which has frequently overcome the strongest minds; a
progressive influence, which gradually steals upon its victim, until his
subjection is completed, and his destruction sealed.
Gaming, when it takes possession of the mind, and becomes a habit (and
everyone who indulges in it at all ought to remember that he is in danger of
this) is, perhaps, one of the most unrelenting and cruel tyrants that ever held
in subjection a miserable slave. It dazzles but to deceive; it flatters but to
trample under feet; it allures but to destroy. It tends to undermine every
virtuous principle, to harden the heart, and to convert him who once abhorred
duplicity and fraud, into a determined villain. The gamester is agitated by a
thousand contending passions. At the cast of the die, or the turning up of a
card, he is alternately the sport of hope and fear, joy and grief, confidence
and despair. He is held in a suspense more painful than racks and tortures,
till it is decided whether his wishes succeed; and when he finds that they
succeed not, which is generally the case, he retires mortified, reproaching
himself, out of humor with mankind, filled with malignant passions, or perhaps
weary of life, furious, and desperate.
Do you doubt the truth of this representation? Let me carry you to the
gaming table, and unfold to you the scenes which are there presented. Enter
that apartment, where the votaries of this work of darkness are assembled.
Behold the hollow eyes, the pale complexions, the haggard looks, which mark its
wretched occupants! See the suspense, the anxiety, the fear, the rage, the
horror, the despair, which alternately sit upon the countenances of the
miserable group! Hear the disputes, the mutual recriminations, the oaths, the
imprecations, the blasphemies, which break forth on every side! See one victim
of plunder after another retiring, ruined in fortune, covered with shame, stung
with remorse, finding no consolation from within or without; and, unable to
encounter the upbraidings of friends, the reproaches of conscience, the
contempt of the world, or the tears of a ruined family, flying to the
instrument of destruction to set him free from a life which he no longer
considers as a blessing! [15]
Is this an exaggerated picture? No, my hearers, it is a representation
dictated by truth and soberness. It is a
scene exhibited, in whole or in part, every day in our own city; and would to
God we were not sometimes called to witness and deplore the miserable end which
has been described! The same scenes are also displayed in other populous
places. We are told that, in the city of Paris, where the number of suicides is
greater than in any other city in the civilized world,[16]
a majority of the cases which occur are those of persons who have become
unfortunate and desperate at the gaming table. In every part of the globe, and
in almost every class of society, this destroyer boasts of his victims.
Yes, brethren, gaming is that fascinating and dishonorable vice I repeat
it, gaming is that fascinating and dishonorable vice which is daily
destroying the fortune, the probity, the peace, and the lives of thousands. It
is a vice from whose haunts no one who once permits himself to enter them can
be sure of escaping with safety; a vice, therefore, from which everyone who
would avoid destruction should fly with trembling steps.
With what painful emotions, then, must the friend of human happiness
contemplate the evident progress of this vice in our city! [17]
It is enough to appall the stoutest heart to look upon the scene! Our young
men, the hope of the church and of the state, are growing up a race of
gamblers, sporting away at once their time, their health, their principles, and
their lives. Our aged men, surrendering that virtuous dignity which should
adorn the hoary head, are also found in the same places of criminal resort, and
giving the countenance of their example to the fashionable corruption. Nay,
even some of our females, who aspire to an elevated place in society, are not
ashamed to be seen spending a large portion of their time in a systematic and
enthusiastic devotedness to gaming, and formally initiating their daughters
into this "mystery of iniquity" (2 Thess. 2:7). Guilty parents! you
are treasuring up misery and tears for yourselves and your offspring! Unhappy
children! flee from the contagion of parental example, or you are undone!
5. Suicide is frequently produced by THE INDULGENCE OF CRIMINAL LOVE.
It is unnecessary, in illustrating this assertion, to premise that wedded
love is the source of rich and extensive benefits to mankind. Constituted by
our all-wise Creator as the great cement of society, it sheds numberless
blessings on our apostate world. It lays the foundation of domestic union,
peace, and happiness. It creates the tenderest relations; gives rise to the
purest affections, and binds those who partake of its comforts to life and to
the community, by ties of the strongest and most interesting kind. It elevates
the character of the individual, by cherishing some of the noblest virtues; and
extends at once our enjoyments and our usefulness, by carrying us beyond
ourselves, and multiplying our interests, our cares, and our hopes. Marriage
does more to soften the heart, to cultivate social affection, to promote
humanity, sympathy, and kindness, and to unite and harmonize society, than a
volume would be sufficient to display.
But that passion which, when held in subjection to the law of God, is
productive of such benign effects, is no sooner given up to the depraved and
capricious will of man, than it pours on society evils countless in number, and
immeasurable in extent. However lightly the indulgence of criminal love may be
regarded by the gay, the inconsiderate, and the licentious, there is scarcely
any species of sin which more certainly and unavoidably gives rise to an
enormous mass of depravity and misery. It corrupts the whole moral character;
it pollutes the imagination; it hardens the heart; it cherishes duplicity,
selfishness, falsehood, meanness, and the tyranny of appetite; it perpetuates
disease; destroys the peace of families; vitiates and convulses the social system;
degrades the reputation, and embarrasses the worldly circumstances of its
votaries; entails infamy and misery on posterity; and brings multitudes to
untimely graves. By the indulgence of criminal love, who can tell how many
parental and conjugal feelings have been violated; how many fair prospects have
been blasted; how many confident and endearing hopes have been withered; how
many consciences have been wrecked; how many bosoms, once the seats of virtue
and peace, have been converted into the residence of shame, remorse, and
despair? Great Searcher of hearts! thou knowest.
These mischiefs fall with peculiar weight on the tender sex. It is true, the
vile seducer himself is often brought into disgrace and suffering by his sin,
and sometimes sunk into the deepest infamy and woe. But this is more frequently
the portion of her who criminally yields to his arts. Could we trace the
history of those wretched females who become the prey of ungoverned passion,
what a series of melancholy pictures would be presented to our view! We should
behold some anticipating the approach of disgrace and, in the tumult of grief
and despondency, destroying their own lives. We should see others passing
through successive scenes of prostitution, disease, poverty, abandonment, and complicated
misery, to an end more degrading, and more dreadful than language can describe.
We should contemplate a third class living only to deceive and corrupt the
innocent, and dragging many an unsuspecting victim into the same gulf of vice
and perdition.
Do you see a man, then, who gives himself up to the government of this
criminal passion? He has no security that another week may not rank him with
those wretched mortals who have been prompted, by remorse and self-execration,
to fly from life. Do you see a female who listens to the persuasions of a
seducer, who parleys with temptation, or who yields to an artful deceiver?
Wonder not if she should be hurried onward, contrary to all her resolutions, in
the path of sin, until the extremes of unblushing lewdness, and the horrors of
self-murder close her career.
6. Men are frequently driven to weariness of life, and suicide, by HABITS OF
IDLENESS.
The structure of the body and the mind of man requires habitual action to
maintain their vigor and comfort unimpaired. Activity is the parent of health,
vivacity, and enjoyment. That uniform industry which employs all our faculties
without oppressing them, spreads a benign influence over the whole man. It
tends to keep the mind awake, serene, and cheerful; it confers on the animal
feelings all the luxury of vigorous and healthful sensation; it guards the
affections from a thousand vain and irregular wanderings; and contributes, at
once, to our physical, intellectual, and moral welfare.
On the other hand, idleness is the parent of many vices. It has been
properly styled the rust and canker of the mind. To say nothing of the
embarrassments and poverty which are its natural and general result, and which
frequently produce the most melancholy effects, it gives rise to a host of more
radical and alarming evils. Like a slow and deadly poison, it preys upon all
the faculties of man. It enfeebles and paralyzes the understanding; it weakens
the memory; it clouds and darkens the imagination; it lays open the mind to the
incursions of criminal desire; it invites the inroads of temptation; it
diminishes, and gradually destroys, that state of healthful and pleasurable
sensation in which so much of our enjoyment consists; it brings on languid
feelings, low spirits, hypochondriacal affections, and a complication of bodily
and mental tortures which frequently render their subjects more miserable than
the slave who labors in chains.
To the idle man nothing has its true relish. His time hangs heavy on his
hands. He knows not how to dispose of himself. Everything appears dull and
uninteresting. The most trivial difficulties discourage him; the smallest
appearance of danger alarms and disheartens him; gloom and melancholy succeed.
He betakes himself to the intoxicating draught for relief; but this, instead of
bringing the expected relief, eventually adds new force to every torture; and
increases the weight of his miseries. Is it wonderful that, in this situation,
thousands have considered existence as a curse; and that some, impatient of the
load of wretchedness, have put an end to their lives? No, it is rather to be
wondered that such is not more frequently the termination of their ignoble
course.
Let it be remembered, then, that the habitually idle are always more or less
in danger of falling into the sin under consideration. The habits are precisely
those which are calculated to nourish discontent, to make them the prey of
every mental corrosion, and to render life a wearisome course. On the other
hand, the constant employment of our time in some useful and interesting
pursuit is not only one of the best guards of virtue, but also, next to
religion, the surest source of happiness, the best defense of health and life.
"Were I asked," says an elegant writer, "upon what circumstances
the prevention of spleen and low spirits chiefly depends, I would borrow the
ancient orator's mode of enforcing the leading principles of his art, and would
reply, employment, employment, employment.
This is the grand panacea for weariness of life, and all the train of fancied
evils which prove more insupportable than real ones."[18]
7. Another source of discontent, and of those violent passions which
frequently terminate in suicide, is CHERISHING IMMODERATE DESIRES AND AIMS WITH
REGARD TO THIS WORLD.
An inordinate love of the world is productive of evils unnumbered and
boundless. It has been justly observed, that other sins are the body and the
members, but that this may be considered as the life and the soul of all
irreligion. This criminal attachment, this ignoble idolatry, is at war with
every duty, and is the fruitful source of almost every species of mischief. It
not only alienates the affections from God and from heavenly treasures, but it
pollutes the heart with sordid desires; fills the mind with discontent,
anxiety, and perplexing fears; prompts all the arts of dishonorable gain; and,
when loss and disappointment ensue, which in this world of sorrow may be
regarded as events of course, leaves the miserable dupe of its promises to that
hopeless sorrow which "worketh death" (2 Cor. 7:10).
Yes, brethren, that spirit of bold and extravagant speculation, that
impatience of the progress of gain in its ordinary course, that making haste
to be rich, that inordinate fondness for
parade and expensive living, that disposition for rash and unwarranted
adventure in trade, that criminal and contemptible affectation of those who are
beginning [in] the world, to vie with the most wealthy and established in a
word, that insatiable thirst after the possessions and the splendors of life,
which so remarkably characterize our country and our times, combined with a
disregard of all the simple, steady, and prudent maxims of business, are evils
over which every benevolent man sighs and mourns; evils in which it requires
little discernment to see involved the ruin of many a fortune, the wreck of
many a conscience, the destruction of individual and family peace, and all
those miseries which so frequently plunge men into despair, and tempt them to
become their own executioners. "The love of money," says an inspired
apostle, "is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they
have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many
sorrows" (1 Tim. 6:10). For "they that will be rich, fall into
temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown
men in destruction and perdition" (1 Tim. 6:9).
It was "the love of money" that prompted Judas to that act of
complicated baseness which afterwards filled him with remorse, and impelled him
to become the destroyer of his own life. It is the same sordid spirit which, in
every age, causes multitudes to sink under bereavement and bankruptcy; and,
when the natural reward of their avarice overtakes them, to cry out, "There
is no hope" (Isa. 57:10; Jer. 2:25). Mark that child of misfortune how
disappointments afflict him; how losses overwhelm him; how ready he is, when
his circumstances look gloomy, to sink in despair! Alas! unhappy man! he has
loved the world too much, or he would not be so deeply affected with the flight
of its possessions. His heart has been too much bound up in early treasures, or
their temporary failure would not thus agitate and depress him. Riches were his
idol, or he would not be ready to say, when they are snatched from him,
"Ye have taken away my gods, and what have I more?"
But if immoderate desires after worldly possessions are so replete with
danger, that irregular and extravagant ambition which worships fame, which is ever panting after distinction and
power, is equally dangerous to human happiness and life. When this ambition
fills and governs the mind of any man, misfortunes may be expected to drive him
to despair, and the failure of his plans to prove insupportable. To such an one
obscurity is torture, and defeat is death. He who imagines that high station,
conquest and glory are the only attainments which render life desirable, is in
a fair way to become the victim of disappointment and shame. It was this
mistake that gave adversity so great a power over the mind of Saul, the king of
Israel, and that led him, when defeat and dishonor stared him in the face, to
choose death rather than life. It was because the treacherous Ahithophel was a
slave to the same species of idolatry that, when he saw his influence and
importance declining, he determined no longer to live.
Such also was the error, and such the degrading end, of some personages
distinguished in profane history, and too often regarded with blind admiration,
especially by the young and unthinking. Was it heroism which prompted Cato, Brutus, Cassius, and Hannibal
to become the destroyers of their own lives? No! it was the madness of ambition; it was the littleness of pride. Genuine heroism would have taught them to act more
nobly. "Had Cato's pride permitted him to yield himself to the generosity
of Cæsar, his character and influence might have contributed to retard the
slavery of his country, which his death tended to hasten. Had Brutus and
Cassius not executed the fatal resolution which they had formed, of dying by
their own hands in case of misfortune, the battle of Phillipi might have had a
very different issue. Had Hannibal surrendered himself to the Romans, instead
of swallowing poison, he would have gained more glory in braving their tortures,
than he won in the battle of Cannæ."
8. The last source of this crime which I shall mention is THE WANT OF
SINCERE AND VITAL PIETY.
The danger resulting from false principles in morals and religion was before
stated. This, however, is not the only danger. To entertain correct opinions is
useful and important; but there are thousands who "hold the truth in
unrighteousness" (Rom. 1:18). Where the life and the power of Christianity
are wanting; where its doctrines are studied only as beautiful speculations,
and its consolations regarded only as pleasing theories, who can rationally
look for that divine efficacy, which strengthens, consoles, and animates under
the trials of life? It cannot be found.
No, the mere nominal votary of religion, for aught that he possesses, may be
left to live comfortless, and die in despair. A theoretical religion hear it
formalists! a theoretical religion may enable you to converse plausibly on
the subject of your faith, or to appear with credit in a circle of polemics; but
what will it avail in the day of adversity and sorrow, when earthly comforts
forsake you, and when the demon of despondency assails and darkens the mind? In
that day, the man who has nothing more than orthodox opinions to arm him against temptation, may be expected
ignobly to sink under its power.
The greatest security, therefore, against the crime under consideration, is
"the power of godliness" (cf. 2 Tim. 3:5) living and reigning in the
heart. This holy spirit not only tends to inspire that fortitude which triumphs
over the afflictions of life, and to cherish that submission which cheerfully
acquiesces in the divine will; but it is also that spirit which unites those
who possess it with the Saviour, constitutes them members of his body, the
church, and gives them the firmest pledge that they shall be "kept by the
power of God, through faith unto salvation" (1 Pet. 1:5). It was not
"the form of godliness," but "the power thereof," that
supported Job in his affliction, and enabled him to repel with abhorrence the
proposal of suicide. It was not "the form of godliness," but
"the power thereof" (2 Tim. 3:5), that raised the martyrs of old above the fear of man, that strengthened them
to bear every torture rather than sin against God, and that enabled them to
sing with joy in the midst of the flames.
I have thus endeavored to show the guilt and folly of suicide; and by
tracing the evil of its principal sources, to point out some of those
sentiments and habits which may lead to danger. It only remains that I commend
what has been said to the consideration of every hearer, and especially of
those whom it more immediately concerns.
Parents! this subject demands your solemn attention! You see the numerous
dangers to which the traveller through this vale of tears is exposed. How
should your solicitude be excited, your zeal be roused, and all the tender
anxieties of parental affection be called into exercise, in behalf of your
offspring, who are entering on the journey of life, and about to encounter all
its perils! You are the guardians of their health and lives; you form their
morals; you direct their pursuits; you are the depositories of their happiness
in this world, and, in a degree, in that which is to come. With what unceasing
care, then, should you imbue their minds with correct principles! With what
sacred fidelity should you put them on their guard against the licentious
opinions of the age, against the contagion of evil company, and against the
destructive habits of intemperance and sloth! With what devout tenderness
should you exhort them, warn them, pray over them, and endeavor to win them,
both by precept and example, to the love and fear, as well as to the knowledge
of God!
O parents! were these things duly considered, what a revolution should we
witness in your mode of treating your children! We should see you more
attentive to domestic instruction and discipline than to the frivolities of a
fashionable education. We should see you embracing every opportunity to
inculcate on their minds, that virtue is superior to wealth, that holiness is a
distinction infinitely more valuable than the magnificence and honors of this
world. We should see you, in a word, making their moral and religious culture
your chief concern, and studying daily to impress upon their hearts the
conviction that, to "fear God and keep his commandments, is the whole
duty" and happiness "of man" (cf. Eccl. 12:13).
Magistrates! Jurors! there is a solemn duty incumbent on you in relation to
this subject. Can you reconcile, either with your obligations as men, or with
the official oath which binds you as public functionaries, the manner in which
you are accustomed to treat suicide when you consider cases of this melancholy
crime? Believe me, when you attempt to cover, by a verdict of lunacy, the odium which ought ever to rest upon the memory
of the deliberate self-murder, or when you give countenance to such verdicts,
you not only wrong your own souls, but you also inflict an injury on society.
Say not that, by proclaiming the truth, you would punish not the criminal, but
his innocent surviving relatives. Do you forget that this consideration forms
one of the moral ties by which most men are, and all men ought to be, bound to
the discharge of duty? Execute the law without favor or affection.[19] Let every member of the community be forewarned by your
fidelity, that if he falls into this crime, he will inflict a serious injury on
his family and friends, as well as bring ignominy on his own memory; and you
will lay another restraint on human wickedness a restraint which even
afflicted relatives must approve and perhaps save from destruction many an
important life.[20]
My young friends! this subject is entitled to your particular regard. It has
been said, and probably with justice, that the young are more apt to fall into
the crime of suicide, than those in more advanced age. This consideration
should affect and alarm you, and awaken all your vigilance in guarding against
every source of danger. The river of life flows troubled and foaming before
you; but, inexperienced and sanguine, you cast an eye down the current,
overlook its agitations, and fondly hope for a passage uninterrupted smooth and
joyful. Disappointments will occur; vexations will arise; bereavements will
cover you with mourning; and various forms of affliction will teach you that
this world is, to every child of apostate Adam, a vale of tears.
Let me exhort you, then, "to be sober minded;" and to "put on
the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and
having done all to stand" (Titus 2:6; cf. Eph. 6:13). In the day of trial,
religion will form your best defense, your firmest support, your richest
consolation. From sincere, enlightened, and uniform piety, will flow those
inward comforts and joys which are more precious than rubies; as well as that
probity, that industry, that temperance, that moderation in worldly aims and
pursuits, and that general holiness of life, which form the best guarantee of
earthly enjoyment. With this treasure you will be safe, whatever may occur;
without it, nothing can render you either safe or happy. "Seek,"
therefore, "first the kingdom of God and his righteousness" (Matt.
6:33). "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (Prov.
9:10). "Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the
life that now is, and of that which is to come" (1 Tim. 4:8).
Sons and daughters of affliction! in this discussion you have an immediate
and peculiar interest. It points out to you your enemies and your defense, your
danger and your refuge. To the sanctuary of religion let me cordially and
affectionately invite you. Nothing human can afford you adequate relief;
nothing earthly can give you effectual and permanent consolation. Friends may
soothe and smile; but they cannot "pour the oil of gladness" (Ps.
45:7; Heb. 1:9) into the troubled breast. Property may glitter and decorate;
but it cannot cure the wounds of the heart. Honors may dazzle and inflate, but
they cannot nourish the hungry soul; they cannot dissipate the clouds of
melancholy and despair. Philosophy, falsely so-called, may flatter your pride,
and allure you by her promises; but her professions are hollow, her promises
are vain. The intoxicating draught may give a semblance of relief for a time;
but it can only stupefy and benumb, and "at the last it biteth like a
serpent, and stingeth like an adder" (Prov. 23:32). The proud teachers who
would persuade you to "curse God and die" (Job 2:9), cannot redeem
your soul from the abyss of despair, nor give you a drop of water to cool your
tongue, in the flames of interminable woe. No, "miserable comforters are
they all!" (cf. Job 16:2).
Take refuge, then, in the grace of the gospel. Come, children of discontent
and sorrow! ye who "labor and are heavy laden," come to the Saviour,
and "he will give you rest" (cf. Matt. 11:28). Embrace "the
truth as it is in Jesus," and live under its sanctifying power. Then,
instead of flying to the hateful instruments of death, on the approach of
calamity, you will have a covenant God and Father, to whose gracious throne you
may repair with boldness and affectionate confidence. Then you will possess the
privilege, which is the prerogative of the Christian, to "rejoice in
tribulation, knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience,
experience; and experience, hope: and hope maketh not ashamed" (cf. Rom.
5:3-5). And when death arrives, whether he comes in the form of sudden
violence, or wasting disease, he will be a messenger of peace, and introduce
you to a kingdom where there is no more sin, "neither sorrow, nor crying,
nor pain;" but where all the "former things are passed away"
(cf. Rev. 21:4).
"Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you
faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise
God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever.
Amen." (Jude 24-25).
Footnotes
1. The word here translated curse, literally signifies to bless: but it is evidently one of those cases in which, by
a strong figure, the direct contrary of the literal meaning is intended. The
same figure is frequently employed, in ironical conversation, to the present
day. "He blessed me,"
or "he poured blessings upon
me," is a mode of expression often used to signify the bitterest
imprecations.
"Sometimes this word," says the learned Taylor, "means to blaspheme, to curse;
not from its natural force, but because pious persons of old accounted blasphemy
so abominable, that they abhorred to express it by its proper name; and,
therefore, by euphemismus, or
decent manner of speaking, instead of curse God, said, bless God." Schultens observes, that to bless is sometimes the same as bid farewell; and, therefore, as 'tis usual to bid
farewell to what we reject, disregard, or
have done with, to bless may
signify to disregard, to take
no notice of." See Taylor's Hebrew
Concordance.
The same word is used in 1 Kings 21:10, and also in Job 1:11, and 2:5; in
all which passages it signifies, beyond controversy, to curse. Our translators have, therefore, with great
judgment, given the precise meaning of the sacred text.
2. It has been doubted by many judicious expositors,
whether this proposal was really to commit suicide. Some have rather supposed
the meaning of the suggestion to be that, by a blasphemous renunciation of God,
and his service, he should provoke God to take away his life. The author,
though rather inclined to prefer that interpretation of the passage which he
has given above, yet considers this as equally adapted to his design. It even
fortifies his argument. For if Job abhorred the thought of provoking God to
destroy his life, much more would he have abhorred the thought of becoming his
own executioner.
3. It is believed that within the three months immediately
preceding the delivery of these discourses, at least nine cases of suicide
occurred in the city of New York. This number, in a city, the population of
which does not exceed 70,000, must be considered as enormous and alarming.
4. It will, perhaps, be said that this reasoning, if
admitted, would prove too much; for if no man has a right to dispose of his own
life, and if all the legitimate authority of the civil government over
individuals is founded in compact, then
no government can have a right to take away life, even for the most atrocious
crimes; because no individual can, by any act of his own, either express or
implied, convey to a community the right which he does not himself possess. But
this objection proceeds upon an erroneous principle. The right of civil
government to take away life, in certain cases, arises not from compact, but from the will of God, explicitly revealed in his word. We may go even
further. Man would have no right to take away the lives of inferior animals,
had there not been an express grant of the Creator for this purpose.
5. Platonis Phaedon.
6. Socrates by no means stood alone among the ancient
moralists, in condemning suicide. It was forbidden, on various grounds, by
Pythagoras, by Aristotle, and by the laws of Thebes and Athens.
7. This is related of Dr. Erasmus Darwin, on occasion of
the death of his son, of the same name, who drowned himself in the Derwent. See
Miss Seward's Life of that distinguished
physician, pp. 295-97. The truth of the account has been, indeed, drawn into
question by a subsequent writer; but there seems no good reason to doubt the
correctness of a relation given by a friend so intimate with Dr. Darwin, and so
much disposed to do honor to his memory, as Miss Seward. The anecdote, if true,
is instructive. It shows that, while the philosophy of Dr. Darwin, and,
probably, the principles which he instilled into the minds of his children,
were directly calculated to wrest from the mind its best consolations, and, of
course, to promote despair and suicide; yet that, with all his atheism, he
disapproved of self-murder, and considered it as a cowardly and degrading act.
8. "The supposition that man is a moral and
accountable being, destined to survive the stroke of death, and to live in a
future world, in a never ending state of happiness or misery, makes him a
creature of incomparably more consequence
that the opposite supposition. When we consider him as placed here by an
almighty Ruler, and that the present life is his period of trial, the first
link in a vast and interminable chain which stretches into eternity, he assumes
a dignified character in our eyes. Everything which relates to him becomes
interesting; and to trifle with his happiness is felt to be the most
unpardonable levity. If such be the destination of man, it is evident, that in
the qualities which fit him for it, his principal dignity consists: his moral
greatness is his true greatness. Let the skeptical principles be admitted which
represent him, on the contrary, as the offspring of chance, connected with no
superior power, and sinking into annihilation at death, and he is a
contemptible creature, whose existence and happiness are insignificant. The
characteristic difference is lost betwixt him and the brute creation, from
which he is no longer distinguished, except by the vividness and multiplicity
of his perceptions." Hall's Sermon on Modern Infidelity, p. 43.
9. The Shaster is
said to forbid suicide, under severe penalties; yet we are told that the
Gentoos [Hindus], taught by the Brahmins to despise death, and to consider this
mode of terminating life as honorable, frequently destroy themselves,
especially when they become aged and infirm.
10. It would be easy to give many examples in support of
these remarks. Even the tragedy of Cato,
though the production of a decided friend to virtue and religion, has been
pronounced, by the best judges, to have a tendency favorable to suicide.
Indeed, some accurate observers have asserted, that the exhibition of this
celebrated tragedy on the stage has seldom failed to be followed by instances
of self-murder, which there was good reason to believe were connected with
these exhibitions. The moral of that detestable novel, the Nouvelle
Eloise, by Rousseau, is, on this subject,
extremely questionable. For, though the author argues eloquently on both sides
of the question, concerning the lawfulness of suicide, yet some have supposed
that his arguments in favor of that crime are calculated, and were intended by
him, to make a deeper impression than those offered against it.
11. See Darwin's Zoonomia, Vol. 2, class. 3:1-2 where the reader will find remarkable instances
of suicide recorded.
12. "Sir Philip Mordaunt was young, sincere, brave, an
Englishman. He had a complete fortune of his own, and the love of the king his
master, which was equivalent to riches. Life opened all her treasure before
him, and promised a long succession of future happiness. He came; tasted of the
entertainment; but was disgusted, even in the beginning. He professed an
aversion to living; was tired of walking round the same circle; had tried every
enjoyment, and found them all grow weaker at every repetition. 'If life be in
youth so displeasing (cried he to himself), what will it appear when old age
comes on? If it be at present indifferent, sure it will then be execrable.'
This thought embittered every reflection; till, at last, with all the serenity
of perverted reason, he ended the debate with a pistol." Goldsmith's Citizen
of the World,, Letter 73.
13. Professor Rush calculates that not less than four
thousand persons die annually, from the
abuse of ardent spirits, in the United States. See his interesting and
instructive Inquiry into the Effects of Ardent Spirits upon the Human
Body and Mind, p. 38, fourth edition.
14. "The late Dr. Waters," says Dr. Rush,
"while he acted as house pupil and apothecary of the Pennsylvania
Hospital, assured me, that in one-third of the patients confined by this
terrible disease (madness) it had been induced by ardent spirits." Inquiry, p. 12.
15. The following anecdote is extracted from a work
published a few years ago. "In lived a gentleman and his wife,
blessed with a competent fortune, health, mutual love, and peace of mind. They had
two children, amiable and promising, and appeared to enjoy, in a very high
degree, the numerous comforts with which they were surrounded. Toward the close
of the summer of 1765, the gentleman happening to fall in company with some
neighboring friends, who proposed to waste an hour at cards, he consented, more
out of complaisance than love of the game, to join them. Like other gamesters,
he met with a variety of fortune, and being warm with liquor, he was
inconsiderately drawn in before the company broke up, to involve himself more
than his estate could bear. The next day, on sober reflection, he could not
bear the thought of that distress which his folly had brought upon his beloved
wife and children, and therefore had not the courage to acquaint her with what
had happened. In the midst of pangs to which he had been hitherto a stranger,
he was visited, and again tempted, by one of the preceding night's company, to
try his fortune once more. To drown reflection, and in the hope of recovering
his loss, he flew to the fatal place; nor did he leave it till he had lost his
all. The consequence of which was, that the next day, in indescribable despair,
after writing to acquaint his wife with what had happened, he shot himself. The
news of this deprived the lady of her senses. She is (or at least lately was)
confined to a mad-house; and her two children are thrown, beggared and
friendless, on the world."
16. M. Mercier, who wrote in 1782, says (Tableau de
Paris), that the annual number of suicides
in Paris was then about one hundred and fifty. There is reason to believe that the number, since
that time, has been considerably greater. In London the average number of
suicides per annum was said, in 1787, to be about thirty-two; though this probably falls at present much short of
the truth. In Edinburgh (which contains about 80,000 inhabitants), the average
number is said to be four. In
Geneva (which contains about 25,000 inhabitants) about eight. See Encyclopedia, article "Suicide." The writer of this
article observes, "Our accounts respecting the city of London are very
imperfect; but we think ourselves entitled to conclude, that suicide is more
common among the great and wealthy than among the lower ranks; and that it is
usually the effect of gaming and dissipation."
Mr. Colquhoun, the celebrated writer on the police of the city of London, in
conversation, a few years ago, with a friend of the author, then resident in
that city, speaking of a certain gaming house, which had a short time before
become known to him, said, "That house may be expected to produce at least
four or five suicides annually, as long as it is supported."
17. The increase of gaming in the city of New York is
unquestionably great, and calls aloud for every remonstrance of the moralist
and the Christian, as well as for every exertion of the civil magistrate. It is
said, that in addition to all the public gaming tables with which the city is
filled, and which are crowded day and night with customers, the number of private
parties for gaming (at which some of those
who ought to be "mothers in Israel" [cf. Judges 5:7] make a
conspicuous figure), have been so numerous for a considerable time past, as to
withdraw from the theater that
encouragement which was necessary for its support. "If Satan cast out
Satan, how shall his kingdom stand?" (cf. Matt. 12:26). Would to God that
the conflict between these two enormous nuisances in society might be
destructive to both!
18. Letters to a Son,
by J. Aikin, M.D. Vol. 1, Letter 18.
19. The punishment of suicide prescribed by the common law
of England is two-fold: ignominious burial in the highway, with a stake driven
through the body, and forfeiture of all the criminal's goods and chattels to
the king. The former part of this law continues in force in this state, but is
never executed. The latter has been abolished by a particular statute.
20. That much may be done to prevent this crime by heaping
ignominy upon every felo-de-se [felon
of himself], history abundantly testifies.
Plutarch tells us that an unaccountable passion for suicide seized the young
women of Miletus, from which they could not be deterred by all the tears and
entreaties of their friends. But what persuasion and entreaty could not effect,
was accomplished by very different means. A decree was issued, "That the
body of every young woman who hanged herself should be dragged naked through
the streets, by the same rope with which she had committed the deed." This
edict put a complete stop to the extraordinary frenzy.
It is also recorded that, in the reign of Tarquinius Priscus, some Roman
soldiers who were appointed to make drains and common sewers, thinking
themselves disgraced by such servile offices, put themselves to death in great
numbers. The king ordered the bodies of all self-murderers to be exposed on
crosses, and this put an effectual stop to the practice. Encyclopedia article, "Suicide."