SECTION I.

IT hath been the Fate of Lord SHAFTES⯑BURY's Characteriſtics, beyond that of moſt other Books, to be idolized by one Party, and deteſted by another. While the firſt regard it as a Work of perfect Ex⯑cellence, as containing every Thing that can render Mankind wiſe and happy; the lat⯑ter are diſpoſed to rank it among the moſt pernicious of Writings, and brand it as one [2] continued Heap of Fuſtian, Scurrility, and Falſehood.

THIS Circumſtance hath always appeared to me a Demonſtration, that Paſſion and Prejudice have had a greater Share than Reaſon, in deciding upon the Merits of this Work; which many read with Diſpleaſure, more with Admiration, but few with im⯑partial Judgment. 'Tis probable, the Truth lies between the two Extremes of theſe diſcordant Opinions: and that the noble Writer hath mingled Beauties and Blots, Faults and Excellencies, with a liberal and unſparing Hand.

THESE, ſo far as they relate to Religion and Morals, it is my preſent Intention to point out, without Regard to the bigoted Cenſures of his Friends or Enemies: While I foreſee, that ſome will frown upon me for allowing him any Thing, and others treat me with a contemptuous Smile for pre⯑ſuming to differ with him at all.

THE firſt Thing that occurs to an unpre⯑judiced Mind, in the Peruſal of the Cha⯑racteriſtics, is that generous Spirit of Free⯑dom which ſhines throughout the whole. The noble Author every where aſſerts that natural Privilege of Man, which hath been [3] ſo often denied him, of ſeeing with his own Eyes, and judging by his own Reaſon. It may poſſibly appear ſtrange to ſome, why he ſhould ſo extremely labour a Point ſo plain. But in Juſtice to his Lordſhip theſe Gentlemen muſt remember, or be informed, that in former Times, ſome well-deſigning Men among ourſelves, from a groundleſs Dread of an unlimited Freedom of the Preſs, attempted to make a moſt unnatural and cruel Separation between Truth and Liberty. Having ſhaken off the Corrup⯑tions of Popery, and eſtabliſhed what they thought a pure and perfect Syſtem, they un⯑happily ſtopped ſhort in their full Carrier of Glory; prepoſterouſly attempting to deprive others of that common Privilege which they had ſo nobly exerciſed themſelves. This miſtaken Spirit ſeemed entirely ſubdued by the excellent LOCKE, and others, about the Time of the Revolution: But at the Period when our noble Author wrote, it not only revived, but was heightened by a terrible Acceſſion of Bitterneſs and Rancour. Hence thoſe frequent Sallies of Invective, which he throws out againſt this intolerant Principle, which he juſtly ſtigmatizeth as equally im⯑politic, irrational, and unchriſtian.

[4] 'TIS the Glory of our Days, that this ac⯑curſed Spirit of Perſecution is at leaſt dying away. What Pity that we cannot add, it is wholly extinguiſhed! It is true, we moſt of us profeſs ourſelves Friends to a Free⯑dom of Inquiry, in the Main. But why, in the Main? Why that needleſs Circumſtance of Heſitation? Would we embrace Error? Or do we think that Truth can ſuffer by the moſt rigid Scrutiny? On the contrary, not only the Perfection, but the very Being of Knowledge depends on the Exerciſe of Freedom. For whatever ſome may fear from an open and unlimited Enquiry, it ſeems evidently the only Means vouch⯑ſafed us for the Attainment of Truth. The Abuſe of it may be hurtful, but the Want of it is fatal. Such, indeed, are the clear and undoubted Principles of our Religion: Nei⯑ther ſure can theſe Declarations ſurprize us. For if human and political Eſtabliſhments had been ſacred or unviolable, where had been our Proteſtantiſm; nay, where our Chriſtianity? Dare we then to deſert or diſ⯑countenance a Principle, on which not only the Purity, but the very Exiſtence of our Religion depends? Nor is this Principle leſs conſonant with the ſtricteſt Reaſon. It [5] is Falſehood only that loves and retires into Darkneſs. Truth delights in the Day; and demands no more than a juſt Light, to ap⯑pear in perfect Beauty. A rigid Exami⯑nation is its only Teſt: For Experience hath taught us, that even Obſtinacy and Error can endure the Fires of Perſecution: But it is genuine Truth, and that alone, which comes out pure and unchanged from the ſeverer Tortures of Debate.

IT will ever be our trueſt Praiſe there⯑fore, to join the noble Apologiſt in his En⯑comiums on Freedom; the only permanent Baſis on which Religion or Virtue can be eſtabliſhed. Nor can we leſs approve his frequent Recommendations of Politeneſs, Chearfulneſs, and Good-humour, in the Pro⯑ſecution of our moſt important Enquiries. The moroſe, contemptuous, and ſurly Species of Compoſition is generally an Appendage to Bigotry, as appears in Inſtances innu⯑merable, both among the miſtaken Friends and Enemies of Religion. On the con⯑trary, the amiable Qualities of Chearful⯑neſs and Good-humour, caſt a Kind of Sun⯑ſhine over a Compoſition, and naturally en⯑gage us in Favour of the Writer. They reſemble that gentle Smile that often lights [6] up the human Countenance, the never-failing Indication of a humane Temper. How naturally then muſt we be diſpoſed to liſten; how open our Minds to receive Con⯑viction, when we perceive our Opponent's Intention is benevolent: When we perceive that his Aim is not Victory, but Informa⯑tion: that he means not to inſult, but to inſtruct us.

SO far, out of an unfeigned Regard to Truth, it ſhould be my Boaſt to take Party with the noble Writer: On the ſame Prin⯑ciple it will now be neceſſary to depart from him. For, not content with eſtabliſhing the free Exerciſe of Reaſon, and the Way of Chearfulneſs, in treating the Subjects of Religion and Morals; he revolts from the Principle on which the rational Advocates for Religion were willing to have joined him, and appeals to a new Teſt, the Teſt of Ridicule. This, in his two firſt Treatiſes, he attempts to eſtabliſh as a ſurer Method of Conviction: And that Ridicule, which had hitherto been employed in diſgracing known Falſehood, he informs us, may be ſuc⯑ceſsfully applied to the Inveſtigation of un⯑known Truth.

[7] HE hath gained a numerous Train of Followers in this new Opinion: It may be therefore neceſſary to examine its Foun⯑dations.

SECTION II.

'TIS great Pity the noble Author hath not condeſcended to a little more Preciſion in treating the Queſtion now before us. He indulges the Gaiety of Spirit, the Freedom of Wit and Humour ſo far, that a Reader, who ſeeks Information rather than Amuſe⯑ment, is often at a Loſs to know where his Argument, or even his Opinion, lies. This, no doubt, was in Part owing to a generous Abhorrence of Pedantry, which he takes all Occaſions of expoſing to Contempt. Yet a better Reaſon may poſſibly be alledged: For in recommending and enforcing the Uſe of Ridicule, what could be more natural and proper than the Power of Ridicule itſelf? To draw a ſtriking Picture of demure Folly and ſolemn Impoſture, was a Maſterpiece of Prudence: But to have argued ſeriouſly, would have deſtroyed his Argument: It would have been a tacit Confeſſion, that there is a deeper Foundation, on which [8] Ridicule itſelf muſt reſt, he muſt there⯑fore have overturned, even while he intend⯑ed to eſtabliſh this new Pillar, and Ground of Truth.

HERE then we diſcover why the noble Author is ſo witty in Defence of Wit, and chuſes to maintain the Cauſe of Raillery by Raillery itſelf. He ſmiles at his Adverſary, who had attempted to find Coherence in his firſt Letter^a. He glories in being an Adventurer in the Way of Miſcellany; where ‘"Cuttings and Shreds of Learning, with various Fragments and Points of Wit, are drawn together and tacked in any fantaſtic Form. Where the Wild and Whimſical, under the Name of the Odd and Pretty, ſucceed in the Room of the Graceful and Beautiful: Where Juſt⯑neſs and Accuracy of Thought are ſet aſide, as too conſtraining, and of too painful an Aſpect, to be endured in the agreeable and more eaſy Commerce of Gallantry and modern Wit^b."’ Hence with Reaſon he proceeds to his Concluſion, that ‘"Grounds and Foundations are of no Moment, in a Kind of Work, which, ac⯑cording [9] to modern Eſtabliſhment, has pro⯑perly neither Top nor Bottom, Beginning nor End. ^c."’

IT muſt be confeſſed, that in the Con⯑duct of the literary Warfare, they who de⯑pend on the Regularity and Force of Argu⯑ments, have but a ſorry Chance againſt theſe nimble Adventurers in the Sallies of Wit and Ridicule; theſe Huſſars in Diſ⯑putation, who confide more in their Agi⯑lity, than Strength or Diſcipline; and by ſudden Evolutions and timely Skulking, can do great Miſchiefs, without receiving any. Ill qualified, indeed, is the ſaturnine Com⯑plexion of the dry Reaſoner, to cope with this mercurial Spirit of modern Wit: The Formaliſt is under a double Difficulty; not only to conquer his Enemy, but to find him. Though it muſt be owned, the Search is a harder Taſk than the Victory; and more mortifying, as it ends in ſhewing us that this redoubted Figure of Ridicule, armed at all Points like Reaſon, is no other than an airy Phantom, tricked up by the Goddeſs of Folly, to confound formal Wiſdom; as that other in the Poet, to miſlead his Hero:

SINCE, therefore, the noble Writer de⯑clines treating this Subject in the Way of cloſe Argument; we muſt take our Chance with him upon the Terms he hath been pleaſed to preſcribe. We muſt be content to go a Gleaning for his Opinions, and pick them up as they lie thinly ſcattered through a wide Extent of Pages.

BUT, however, his Lordſhip's high Qua⯑lity may exempt him from the eſtabliſhed Forms of Argument, it were the Height of Imprudence in Writers of inferior Rank, to attempt an Imitation of his peculiar Man⯑ner. His delicate Raillery, therefore, will beſt be repayed by ſober Reaſoning. This, ſure, his moſt zealous Admirers cannot take amiſs: It is the noble Author's allowed Maxim, that ‘"a Jeſt which will not bear a ſerious Examination is certainly falſe Wit^e."’ Neither was he a Stranger to [11] the methodical Species of Compoſition: As appears from that fine Chain of moral Rea⯑ſoning which connects his Enquiry concern⯑ing Virtue: Where he proceeds through the Work with a Pace equally regular and ma⯑jeſtic. Indeed ſhould we form our Idea of him from the Attitudes in which his ſorry Mimics preſent him to our View, we ſhould ſee him labouring through a con⯑fuſed Maſs of Words and random Half-meanings, entangled in his own Argument, and throwing himſelf into every unnatural and awkward Poſture, to make his Way, though in vain, into common Senſe. But this is a very bad Picture of our noble Au⯑thor: Though it be all his affected Ad⯑mirers can exhibit of him in their own Productions. Deformities are eaſily copied: True Features and graceful Attitudes are caught by the Hand of a Maſter only. For in Reality, none ever knew the Value of Order and Proportion better than Lord SHAFTESBURY. He knew that Confuſion can only tend to diſgrace Truth, or diſguiſe Falſehood. Method, indeed, may dege⯑nerate into Stiffneſs, but to deſpiſe Order, is the ſillieſt Affectation. Eſpecially when the ſlovenly and conſuſed Form of the Com⯑poſition [12] (if it may be properly ſaid to have any) pretends to the Character of Elegance, it becomes of all others the groſſeſt and moſt contemptible Pedantry.

SECTION III.

THE divine Author of our Being having given us ſeveral different Powers, Senſe, Ima⯑gination, Memory, and Reaſon, as the Inlets, Preſervers, and Improvers of Knowledge; it may be proper here briefly to remark their reſpective Provinces. As the Senſes are the Fountains whence we derive all our Ideas; ſo theſe are infinitely combined and aſſo⯑ciated by the Imagination: Memory preſerves theſe Aſſemblages of Things: Reaſon com⯑pares, diſtinguiſhes, and ſeparates them: By this Means determining their Differences, and pointing out which are real, and which fictitious.

THE Paſſions are no more than the ſe⯑veral Modes of Pleaſure and Pain, to which the Author of Nature hath wiſely ſubjected us, for our own and each others Preſer⯑vation.

[13] To theſe we may add two more of a mixed Kind, Pity and Contempt, which ſeem to partake of both Pain and Pleaſure.

AS the Senſes and Imagination are the Sources of all our Ideas, it follows that they are the Sources of all our Modes of Plea⯑ſure and Pain: That is, of all our Paſſions. Nor is any Paſſion ſtrongly excited in the Soul by mere Knowledge only, till the Ima⯑gination hath formed to itſelf ſome Kind of Picture or Repreſentation of the Good or Evil apprehended. Thus ARISTOTLE juſt⯑ly defines Fear to be a Kind of Pain ariſing from the Phantaſy or Appearance of future Evil^f. Conſiſtently with this, he again truly obſerves, that though all Men know they muſt die, yet, while Death is at a Diſtance, they never think of it^g. The ſame may be obſerved concerning the Be⯑lief of future Exiſtence; which never ſways the Conduct of Mankind, till the Imagi⯑nation is ſtrongly impreſſed by ſteady and repeated Contemplation.

[14] AS therefore it appears to be the Pro⯑vince of Senſe and Imagination to preſent and aſſociate Ideas, but not to mark their real Differences; and as the Paſſions are al⯑ways excited according to the Suggeſtions of theſe two powers; it follows, that ap⯑parent, not real Good and Evil are univer⯑ſally the Objects of all our Paſſions. Thus the reſpective Objects of Joy, Fear, An⯑ger, are apparent Good, apparent Danger, apparent Injury. Univerſally, whether the Object be real or fictitious, while it is ap⯑parent (that is, while the Imagination re⯑preſents it as real) it will produce its rela⯑tive Paſſion.

IT is the Province of Reaſon alone, to correct the Paſſions. Imagination and Paſ⯑ſion can never correct themſelves. Every Aſſemblage of Ideas, every Impreſſion made upon them, hath an Object apparently real: Therefore without the Aids of Reaſon, the active and ſeparating Power, the Mind can never diſtinguiſh real from fictitious Objects. And as it is the Province of Reaſon only, thus to regulate the Senſes and Imagination, and to determine when they impreſs a Truth, or ſuggeſt a Falſehood: ſo it is no leſs the Province of the ſame corrective Power, to [15] determine concerning the Modes of appa⯑rent Good and Evil, and thus to fix both our Opinions and Paſſions on their proper Objects^h.

UPON this juſt Dependance of Imagi⯑nation and Paſſion on the ſuperior and lead⯑ing Faculty of Reaſon, the whole Weight of this Queſtion concerning the Application and Uſe of Ridicule depends. But that we may obtain as wide a View as poſſible of our Subject, it may be proper to aſcertain the Nature, Limits, and Ends of the different Kinds of literary Compoſition, which take their Riſe from theſe three different Powers, as they ſubſiſt in Man. Thus we ſhall diſ⯑cover, to which of them the Way of Ridi⯑cule is to be referred, and determine how far [16] it may, or may not, with Propriety be re⯑garded as a Teſt of Truth.

PERHAPS there is no Species of Writing (except only that of mere Narration) but what will fall under the Denomination of Poetry, Eloquence, or Argument. The firſt lays hold of the Imagination; the ſecond, through the Imagination, ſeizes the Paſſions; the laſt addreſſeth itſelf to the Reaſon of Mankind. The immediate, eſſential End therefore of Poetry is to pleaſe, of Elo⯑quence to perſuade, of Argument to inſtruct. To this End, the Poet dwells on ſuch Images as are beautiful; the Orator ſelects every Circumſtance that is affecting; the Philoſopher only admits what is true. But as all theſe, in their ſeveral Kinds of Writ⯑ing, addreſs themſelves to Man, who is compounded of Imagination, Paſſion, and Reaſon; ſo they ſeldom confine themſelves to their reſpective Provinces, but lay hold of each others Art, the more effectually to gain Admiſſion and Succeſs to their own. Yet ſtill, the Maſters in theſe various Kinds of Compoſition, know how to keep their ſeveral Boundaries diſtinct; not to make un⯑warrantable Inroads into each others Pro⯑vinces, nor remove thoſe Lines which Na⯑ture [17] hath preſcribed: But ſo to limit their Excurſions, that the Intelligent may always know what is deſigned, a Poem, an Oration, or an Argument ⁱ.

THUS the judicious Poet, though his im⯑mediate and univerſal Aim is beautiful Imi⯑tation, yet in order to become more pleaſing, endeavours often to be intereſting, always to be rational. His Application being made to Man, ſhould he let looſe Imagination to its random Flights, he muſt ſhock the Rea⯑ſon of every penetrating Obſerver. Hence appears the Neceſſity of cultivating that Maxim in poetical Compoſition, which the two beſt of French Critics, Boileau and Bou⯑hours have ſo much inſiſted on; ‘"that all poetical Beauty muſt be founded in Truth^k."’ Becauſe in the unlimited Ex⯑curſions of Fancy, though one Faculty ſhould approve, yet another is diſguſted: [18] Though Imagination acquieſce in falſe Beauty, Reaſon will reject it with Diſdain. Thus, although the primary and eſſential End of Poetry is to pleaſe by Imitation; yet as it is addreſſed to Man, Inſtruction makes a neceſſary, though an adventitious Part of its Character^l.

FROM this View of Things we may, in paſſing, further ſee the Nature, Limits, and comparative Excellence of the various Kinds of Poetry. The Deſcriptive holds entirely [19] of the Imagination, and may be termed pure Poetry or Imitation: Yet, with regard to the ſecondary End of Inſtruction, it ſeems to merit only the loweſt Place, becauſe it is then perfect when it ſatisfies the Imagina⯑tion; and while it offends not Reaſon, or the Affections, nothing further with regard to theſe Faculties is expected from it. The Tragic, Comic, Satiric, and the Elegy, as they chiefly regard the Paſſions and the Heart of Man, ſo they draw much of their Force from the Sources of Eloquence. On the other hand, the Didactic, as it makes its chief Application to Reaſon, though it re⯑tains ſo much of the Graces of Imagi⯑nation, as to merit the Name of Poetry, is principally of the logical Species. The Epic, by its great Extent, includes all theſe Kinds by turns, and is therefore the nobleſt, both in its primary and ſecondary Intention. Much indeed hath been occaſionally aſſerted by ſeveral Writers, concerning the ſuperior Dignity of the tragic Species^m: But this hath been more in the Way of Aſſirmation than Proof. Their Opinion ſeems to have [20] been founded on a miſtaken Interpretation of ARISTOTLE, whoſe ſuppoſed Authority on this Subject hath generally paſſed un⯑queſtioned. But whoever ſhall thoroughly examine the Sentiments of the grand Maſter, will find he only meant to aſſert, that the Mode of Imitation in Tragedy is more forci⯑ble, and therefore ſuperior to that of the epic Kind; becauſe in the laſt, the Action is only told, in the former, it is viſibly repre⯑ſented. This is the Truth. But if we con⯑ſider, not the Mode of Imitation, but the Subjects imitated; if we conſider the com⯑parative Greatneſs of the Action which theſe two Kinds of Poetry can comprehend; and the moral Ends of Inſtruction, no leſs than the Variety and Beauty of Deſcription, which conſtitutes the very Eſſence of Poe⯑try; we ſhall find the Epic greatly ſuperior, on account of the Extent and Importance of thoſe Actions, and the Variety of Cha⯑racters which it is capable of involving. Thus for Inſtance, ſuch an Action as the Death of OEDIPUS or CATO may be more perfectly imitated (becauſe viſibly repre⯑ſented) in Tragedy, than in the Epos: But a much greater and more extenſive Action, ſuch as the Eſtabliſhment of an Empire, with [21] all its ſubordinate Epiſodes, religious, poli⯑tical, and moral, cannot be comprehended or exhibited in Tragedy, while yet they may be perfectly deſcribed in the Epopée.

SO much concerning Poetry will be found to have Relation to our Subject. But as the Queſtion concerning Ridicule will turn chiefly on the proper Subordination of Elo⯑quence, it will be neceſſary to conſider this Kind of Compoſition in a more particular Manner.

ELOQUENCE then is no other than a Species of Poetry applied to the particular End of Perſuaſion. For Perſuaſion can only be effected by rowzing the Paſſions of the Soul; and theſe, we have ſeen, are only to be moved by a Force impreſſed on the Ima⯑gination, aſſuming the Appearance of Truth; which is the eſſential Nature of poetical Compoſition. Thus the Lord VERULAM: ‘"In all Perſuaſions that are wrought by Eloquence, and other Impreſſion of like Nature, which paint and diſguiſe the true Appearance of Things, the chief Recom⯑mendation unto Reaſon, is from the Ima⯑gination ⁿ."’ And the judicious Strabo, conſiſtently with this Theory, tells us, that [22] in Fact ‘"the oratorial Elocution was but an Imitation of the poetical: This ap⯑peared firſt, and was approved: They who imitated it, took off the Meaſures, but ſtill preſerved all the other Parts of Poetry in their Writings: Such were CADMUS the Mileſian, PHERECYDES, and HECATAEUS. Their Followers then took ſomething more from what was left, and at length Elocution deſcended into the Proſe which is now among us^o.’

THUS as the Paſſions muſt have an ap⯑parent Object of Good or Evil offered by the Imagination in order to excite them; ſo Eloquence muſt offer apparent Evidence ere it can be received and acquieſced in: For the Mind cannot embrace known Falſe⯑hood. So that every Opinion which Elo⯑quence inſtills, though it be the pure Reſult of certain fictitious Images impreſſed on the Fancy, is always regarded as the Reſult of rational Conviction, and received by the Mind as Truth.

[23] HENCE we may perceive the juſt Foun⯑dation of the well-known Maxim in rheto⯑rical Compoſition, Artis eſt celare artem. In every other Art, where the End is Plea⯑ſure, Inſtruction, or Admiration, the greater Art the Maſter diſplays, the more effectu⯑ally he gains his Purpoſe. But where the End is Perſuaſion, the Diſcovery of his Art muſt defeat its Force and Deſign. For ere he can perſuade, he muſt ſeem to apply to his Hearer's Reaſon, while, in Fact, he is working on his Imagination and Affections: Now this, once known, muſt defeat his Purpoſe; becauſe nothing can perſuade but what has the Appearance of Truth.

HENCE too we may ſee where the true Medium lies between the too frequent Uſe, and delicate Avoidance of poetical Images, in Eloquence. Metaphors, Similies, bold Figures, and glowing Expreſſions are pro⯑per, ſo far as they point the Imagination to the main Subject on which the Paſſion is to be excited: When they begin to amuſe, they grow abſurd. And here, by the way, lies the eſſential Difference between the Epic and Tragic Compoſition. For the Epic, tending chiefly to Admiration and In⯑ſtruction, allows a full Diſplay of Art: But [24] the Tragic, being of the perſuaſive Kind, muſt only regard and touch upon poetical Images in this ſingle View, as they tend to rowze the Paſſions of the Soul. MACRO⯑BIUS^p hath collected many elegant Exam⯑ples of this poctic Elocution from the Eneid: He hath ranged them in Claſſes, and pointed out the Fountains whence the great Poet drew his Pathos: And ſure, it may with Truth be affirmed, that ‘"the Maſter⯑ſtrokes of that divine Work are rather of the Tragic, than the Epic Species."’

THESE Remarks will enable us to diſco⯑ver the Impropriety of an Opinion com⯑monly held^q; ‘"that the Reaſon why Elo⯑quence had ſuch Power, and wrought ſuch Wonders in Athens and Rome, was, becauſe it had become the general Taſte and Study of the Times: That conſe⯑quently theſe Cities were more ſenſible to its Charms, and therefore more warmly affected by it."’ Now, though with re⯑gard to pure Poetry or ſtrict Argument, where either Pleaſure or Truth are the pur⯑poſed Ends, this Reaſoning might hold; yet, when applied to Eloquence, it ſeems to [25] be without Foundation. For where Igno⯑rance is predominant, there any Application to the Fancy or the Paſſions is moſt likely to wear the Appearance of Reaſon, and therefore the moſt likely to perſuade. As Men improve in Knowledge, ſuch Appli⯑cation muſt proportionably loſe its Force, and true Reaſoning prevail. Hence it ſhould ſeem, that they who make the conſtituent Principles of Eloquence familiar to their Imagination, muſt of all others be beſt ena⯑bled to ſeparate Truth from its Appearances, and diſtinguiſh between Argument and Co⯑louring. An artful Oration will indeed af⯑ford great Pleaſure to one who hath applied himſelf to the Study of Rhetoric: Yet, not ſo as that he ſhall be perſuaded by it: On the contrary, his Pleaſure conſiſts in a reflex Act of the Underſtanding; and ariſes from the very Circumſtance which prevents Per⯑ſuaſion, a Diſcovery of the Maſter's Art.

THE true Reaſon therefore, why Elo⯑quence gained ſuch mighty Power in theſe famed Republics was, ‘"becauſe the Ora⯑tors addreſſed themſelves to the People as their Judges."’ Here the Art triumphed: for it had not Reaſon to inſtruct, but Imagi⯑nation and Paſſion to controul. According⯑ly [26] we find, that no ſooner was the popular Government deſtroy'd, and the ſupreme Power lodged in a ſingle Hand, than Elo⯑quence began ſenſibly to languiſh and de⯑cay: The mighty Orators, who could ſway the Paſſions of a mixed Multitude, found their Art baffled and overthrown when op⯑poſed to the cool Determinations of cunning Miniſters, or the determined Will of arbi⯑trary Maſters. Thus with great Judgment, though not much Honeſty, the Roman Poet exhorts his Countrymen to diſdain the low Accompliſhments of Eloquence: He knew they belonged to a Republic:

With the ſame Penetration he lays the Scene in a popular Aſſembly, when he gives us a Picture of Eloquence triumphant. I mean in that ſine Paſſage where he com⯑pares NEPTUNE ſtilling the Noiſe of the Waves, to an Orator appeaſing the Madneſs of the People:

'Tis true, we have a ſuppoſed Inſtance on Record, of the Power of TULLY's Elo⯑quence, after Liberty was deſtroy'd, even on the great Deſtroyer himſelf. When we read the Oration^t, we ſtand amazed at its Effects: For ſure there is nothing equal to them in the Compoſition itſelf: And it ap⯑pears an Event almoſt unaccountable, that CESAR, who was himſelf an accompliſhed Orator, who knew all the Windings of the Art, and was at the ſame Time of the moſt determined Spirit, ſhould be ſo ſhaken on this Occaſion as to tremble, drop his Papers, and acquit the Priſoner. Though many have attributed this to the Force of TUL⯑LY's Elocution ^v; it ſeems rather to have been the Effect of CESAR's Art. We [28] know with what unwearied Application he courted CICERO's Friendſhip; he ſaw where his Vanity and his Weakneſs lay: With perfect Addreſs therefore he play'd back the Orator's Art upon himſelf: His concern was feigned, and his Mercy artificial; as he knew that nothing could ſo effectually win TULLY to his Party, as giving him the Pride of having conquered CESAR.

BUT whatever of Truth there may be in this Conjecture; ſo much is evident, that the Scene where alone Eloquence can work its mighty Effects, is that of a popular Aſ⯑ſembly. An abſolute Monarchy quencheth it at once. Nor can public Freedom itſelf give it any conſiderable Play, where the public Freedom hath any firmer Baſis, than that of a mere Democracy. For where the Councils of a Nation depend on the united Reaſon of elected Repreſentatives, or wiſe and cunning Stateſmen, though the laboured Eſſays of Eloquence may often amuſe, they will ſeldom determine. This ſeems to be the Caſe of our own Age and Country: And were it neceſſary to enlarge on this Subject, it might be made appear, that they who complain of the Decay of public Elo⯑quence among us, aſſign a Cauſe which hath [29] no real Exiſtence, when they attribute that Decay to a Neglect of the Art^w, while, in Fact, it neceſſarily ariſes from the ruling Principles of the Times, and the Nature of our Conſtitution.

THUS Eloquence gains its End of Per⯑ſuaſion by offering apparent Truth to the Imagination; as Argument gains its proper End of Conviction by offering real Truth to the Underſtanding. Mr. HOBBES ſeems to have been well aware of this Diſtinction. ‘"This, ſays he, viz. laying Evidence be⯑fore the Mind, is called teaching; the Hearer is therefore ſaid to learn: But if there be not ſuch Evidence, then ſuch teaching is called Perſuaſion, and beget⯑teth no more in the Hearer, than what is in the Speaker's bare Opinion ^x."’

HERE then we perceive, that the Conſe⯑quences of Eloquence, with regard to ſpe⯑culative Inſtruction and Inquiry, are of a very different Nature from thoſe which relate to Morals and Action. To Inſtruction or In⯑quiry, every Species of Eloquence muſt for ever be an Enemy: For though it may lead the Mind to acquieſce in a juſt Opinion, yet [30] it leads it to acquieſce upon a falſe Foun⯑dation: It puts the Hearer or Reader in the Speaker's or Writer's Power: And though he be ſo honeſt as to lead him in the Path of Truth, yet ſtill he leads him blind-fold. In this Senſe, and under this Limitation, Mr. LOCKE's Remark is true: ‘"We muſt allow that all the Art of Rhetoric, beſides Order and Clearneſs, all the artificial and figurative Application of Words Elo⯑quence hath invented, are for nothing elſe but to inſinuate wrong Ideas, move the Paſſions, and thereby miſlead the Judgment, and ſo indeed are perfect Cheats^y."’

But if we regard what is of more Im⯑portance to Man, than mere ſpeculative Truth, I mean the practical Ends of hu⯑man Life and moral Action; then Elo⯑quence aſſumes a higher Nature: Nor is there, in this practical Senſe, any ne⯑ceſſary Connexion between moving the Paſſions, and miſleading the Judgment. For though the Ends of Truth and Perſuaſion are then eſſentially different when the Ora⯑tor ſtrikes the Imagination with fictitious Images, in which caſe Falſehood becomes apparent Truth, and Eloquence the Inſtru⯑ment [31] of Deceit; yet the Ends of Perſuaſion and Conviction, Opinion and Knowledge concur, when ſuch Impreſſions are made on the Imagination and Paſſions, as conſiſt with the Dictates of right Reaſon. In this caſe, Eloquence comes in to the Aid of Argu⯑ment, and impreſſes the Truths which Lo⯑gic teaches, in a warmer and more effectual Manner. It paints real Good and Evil in all the glowing Colours of Imagination, and thus inflames the Heart with double Ardor to embrace the one, and reject the other.

NAY, ſo far is Eloquence from being the univerſal Inſtrument of practical Deceit; that on the contrary, it ſhould ſeem, the moral is more natural than the immoral Ap⯑plication of it. Becauſe, ere the diſhoneſt Application can take place, Circumſtances muſt be wreſted, and Miſrepreſentations impoſed on the Fancy, in Oppoſition to Truth and Reaſon: Whereas in the proper Application, nothing further is neceſſary, than to draw out and impreſs thoſe Images and Analogies of Things, which really exiſt in Nature.

IT may be further obſerved, that as Elo⯑quence is of a vague, unſteady Nature, [32] merely relative to the Imaginations and Paſ⯑ſions of Mankind; ſo there muſt be ſeveral Orders or Degrees of it, ſubordinate to each other in Dignity, yet each perfect in their Kind. The common End of each is Per⯑ſuaſion: The Means are different according to the various Capacities, Fancies, and Af⯑fections of thoſe whom the Artiſt attempts to perſuade. The pathetic Orator, who throws a Congregation of Enthuſiaſts into Tears and Groanings, would raiſe Affections of a very different Nature, ſhould he at⯑tempt to proſelyte an Engliſh Parliament: As on the other hand, the fineſt Speaker that ever commanded the Houſe, would in vain point the Thunder of his Eloquence on a Quaker-meeting. So again, with re⯑gard to the Oratory (if it may be called ſo) of the Bar, at a Country Aſſize (for the higher Courts of Juſtice admit not Elo⯑quence) it is eaſy to obſerve, what a different Tour the learned Council takes, in ad⯑dreſſing himſelf to the Judge or Jury: He is well aware, that what paſſes with the one for Argument of Proof, would be derided by the other as paſtboard Declamation. This Difference in the Kind, with reſpect to the Eloquence of the Pulpit, is no leſs remark⯑able [33] in different Countries. Thus the very agreeable and ſenſible VOLTAIRE obſerves, that ‘"in France (where Reaſoning hath lit⯑tle Connexion with Religion) a Sermon is a long Declamation, ſpoken with Rapture and Enthuſiaſm: That in Italy (where Taſte and Vertú give a Tincture to Super⯑ſtition itſelf) a Sermon is a Kind of de⯑votional Comedy: That in England (where Religion ſubmits to Reaſon) it is a ſolid Diſſertation, ſometimes a dry one, which is read to the Congregation without Action or Elocution^z."’ And he juſtly concludes, that the Diſcourſe which raiſeth a French Audience to the higheſt Pitch of Devotion, would throw an Engliſh one into a Fit of Laughter.

HENCE too, and hence alone, we may account for a Fact, which, however, ſeem⯑ingly improbable, is too well-known to be doubted of: ‘"That although in France, the applauded Pulpit Eloquence is of the [34] Enthuſiaſtic, in England of the ſevere and rational Species; yet the Taſte of theſe two Nations in Tragedy or Theatrical Eloquence, is mutually reverſed: The Engliſh are Enthuſiaſtic; the French ſe⯑vere and rational."’ Now, though this Fact may carry the Appearance of Self⯑contradiction, yet on the Principle here laid down, the known Circumſtances of the two Kingdoms will explain it ſufficiently. In England, a general Spirit of Reaſoning and Enquiry hath extinguiſhed the natural En⯑thuſiaſms of the human Mind in religious Subjects; while our unreſtrained Warmth of Imagination, and habitual Reverence for the noble Irregularities of SHAKESPEAR, concur to make us deſpiſe the rigid Laws of the Stage: On the contrary, in France, the Severities of the Academy have utterly quenched the high Tragic Spirit; while, as yet, religious Criticiſm hath made but little Progreſs among the Subjects of the moſt Chriſtian King.

IN further Proof of this Principle, we may appeal to ancient Fact: To the Pro⯑greſs of Eloquence in Greece. There we find, it firſt appeared, decked in all the glow⯑ing Colours of Poetry: afterwards, in an [35] Age of more poliſhed Manners and exten⯑ſive Knowledge, when the Rhetors at⯑tempted to carry this Kind of Eloquence to a ſtill higher Degree, they found the Times would not bear it: They were baffled in their Attempt. As ſucceeding Ages grew more knowing, they grew more faſtidious and refined: The Orators were obliged gradually to lower and bring down Elo⯑quence from its high Standard: Till at length it gained a Form and Character en⯑tirely new, as we find it in XENOPHON's chaſtiſed Manner of Attic Elegance^a.

TO conclude with one Proof more in Fa⯑vour of this Principle. It appears that theſe different Kinds were acknowledged ſuffici⯑ently in ancient Rome; though the true Diſtinction between them ſeems not to have been thoroughly perceived, unleſs by TULLY himſelf. The correct and Attic Species having gained a Number of Ad⯑mirers under the Patronage of SALLUST, who firſt encouraged it in Rome ^b, many [36] were the Debates concerning the ſuperior Force and Propriety of this or the more elevated Manner. The Patrons of the Attic Style derided CICERO, as being looſe, tumid, and exuberant ^c: On the contrary, he too had his Partizans, who deſpiſed the calm and correct Species, as void of Energy and Power^d. Thus by overlooking the relative Nature of Eloquence, they mutually fell into an Extreme; both forgetting, that ei⯑ther of theſe Kinds might be of ſuperior Propriety and Force, according to the Ima⯑ginations, Paſſions, and Capacities of thoſe to whom they ſhould be applied. But TULLY, with a ſuperior Sagacity, ſaw clear⯑ly where the true Diſtinction lay: For, ſpeaking of CALVUS, a Patronizer of the Attic Manner, he ſays, ‘"HENCE his Elo⯑quence gained a high Reputation among the Learned and Attentive; but among [37] the Vulgar, for whom Eloquence was chiefly formed, it was of no Eſteem^e."’

NOW among theſe ſeveral Kinds of Elo⯑quence, Juſtneſs of Thought and Expreſſion, ſtriking Figures, Argument adorned with every pathetic Grace, are the Characters of the higheſt: Sophiſtry and Buffoonry, am⯑biguous and diſhoneſt Hints, coarſe Lan⯑guage, falſe and indecent Images, are the Characters of the loweſt. Between theſe two Extremes, there lies a Variety of inter⯑mediate Kinds, each aſcending towards the higheſt, in Proportion as they abound with its proper Characters. For as the Imagi⯑nation and Paſſions are then moſt refined and juſt, when they bear to the ſame Point with Reaſon; ſo, that Species of Eloquence is the nobleſt which tends to conduct them thither^f. On this Principle, and on this [38] alone, we may with Propriety and Preciſion determine the comparative Excellence and Dignity of thoſe who aſpire to the Palm of Eloquence. On this Principle it ſeems to be, that a ſevere, but able, Judge prefers DEMOSTHENES to TULLY^g: and on this Principle he deſerves the Preference.

THUS we are at length arrived at the Point where Eloquence and Argument, Perſuaſion and Conviction unite; where the Orator's Art becomes ſubſervient to the In⯑tereſts of Truth, and only labours to adorn and recommend Her.

WE come now to the third Species of Compoſition, that of Argument: Which applying ſolely to the Reaſon of Man, and to the Proof or Inveſtigation of Truth, is of a more ſimple and uncompounded Na⯑ture in its Principles, and therefore needs not to be ſo particularly explained. For Pleaſure being the primary End of Poetry, and Perſuaſion that of Eloquence, the real Nature of Things is often in Part diſguiſed, and compelled to bend to the Imagination [39] and the Paſſions: But Truth being the End of Argument, the varying Colours of Ima⯑gination and Paſſion muſt be drawn off; and human Reaſon itſelf bend to the real, uniform Nature of Things.

YET on this Occaſion it may be proper to remark, that the rational Faculty in Man cannot be comprehenſive or perfect in its Operations, without a Union with a ſtrong Imagination. And this, not only in the Arts of Poetry or Eloquence, but in the ſevereſt Inveſtigations of Truth. For Reaſon alone cannot ſearch out new Ideas, but only com⯑pare and diſtinguiſh thoſe which Senſe and Imagination preſent to her, and the Senſes being of ſmall Extent, Imagination is there⯑fore the great univerſal Inſtrument of hu⯑man Knowledge and human Action. With⯑out the Aids of Imagination therefore, Rea⯑ſon works in a contracted Sphere; being deſtitute of Materials; unable to make the neceſſary Excurſions into the Immenſity of Nature; and wanting that Power which alone can range through the whole Extent of created Being, and bring Home all the poſſible and apparent Analogies of Things, ſetting them before her diſcerning Eye, and ſubmitting them to her ſovereign Appro⯑bation [40] or Diſlike. From this noble Union ariſes that boundleſs Penetration, which ſo far ſurpaſſeth mere Judgment: and which, ac⯑cording as it is exerted in Poetry, Eloquence, Philoſophy, Morals, or Religion, ſtrikes into the various and untroden Paths of Nature and Truth; forms the diſtinguiſhed Names of HOMER, SHAKESPEAR, MILTON, DE⯑MOSTHENES, TULLY, ARISTOTLE, BACON, LOCKE, BAYLE, PASCAL, NEWTON, HOOKER, BERKLEY, WARBURTON, giving that eſſential Superiority and Preheminence, which hath ever been, firſt the Envy, and then the Admiration of Mankind.

THUS as it appeared above, how neceſſary the Reſtraints of Reaſon are, to the Per⯑fection of Works of Imagination; ſo here it is evident, that a full Union of Imagi⯑nation is neceſſary to the perfect Operations of Reaſon. Taken ſingly, they are each defective: When their Powers are joined, they conſtitute TRUE GENIUS.

BUT, however requiſite the Force of Ima⯑gination may be, to the Perfection of Rea⯑ſon, and the Production of true Genius, yet ſtill Reaſon remains the ſuperior and cor⯑rective Power: Therefore every Repre⯑ſentation of Poetry or Eloquence, which [41] only apply to the Fancy and Affections, muſt finally be examined and decided upon, muſt be tried, rejected, or received, as the rea⯑ſoning Faculty ſhall determine.

AND thus REASON alone is the Detecter of Falſehood, and the TEST OF TRUTH.

SECTION IV.

HE who would judge aright of the Proportions of a ſpacious Dome, muſt not creep from one Corner to another by the Help of a glimmering Taper, but rather light up a central Branch, which may illu⯑minate the whole at once. By doing ſome⯑thing like this in our Remarks on the three different Kinds of Compoſition, we have enabled the intelligent Reader to ſee with eaſe: ‘"That Wit, Raillery, and Ri⯑dicule, in every Shape they can poſſibly aſſume, are no other than ſo many Species of Poetry or Eloquence."’

PURE Wit, when not applied to the Cha⯑racters of Men, is properly a Species of Poe⯑try. It amuſes and delights the Imagi⯑nation by thoſe ſudden Aſſemblages and pleaſing Pictures of Things which it creates: and from every common Occaſion can raiſe [42] ſuch ſtriking Appearances, as throw the moſt phlegmatic Tempers into a Convulſion of good-humoured Mirth, and undeſigning Laughter.

BUT Ridicule or Raillery, which is the Subject of our Inquiry, hath a further Scope and Intention. It ſolely regards the Opi⯑nions, Paſſions, Actions, and Characters of Men: and may properly be denominated ‘"that Species of Writing which excites Contempt with Laughter."’

STILL more particularly we may ob⯑ſerve, that as Eloquence in general is but the Application of Poetry to the End of Perſuaſion, ſo Ridicule in particular is no more than the Application of that particu⯑lar Species of Poetry called Wit, to the ſame End of Perſuaſion. It tends to excite Con⯑tempt, in the ſame Manner as the other Modes of Eloquence raiſe Love, Pity, Ter⯑ror, Rage, or Hatred, in the Heart of Man.

NOW, that Contempt which certain Ob⯑jects raiſe in the Mind, is a particular Mode of Paſſion. The Objects of this Paſſion are apparent Falſehood, Incongruity, Impropriety, or Turpitude of certain Kinds. But as the Object of every excited Paſſion muſt be examined by Reaſon ere we can determine [43] whether it be proper or improper, real or fictitious; ſo, every Object that excites Contempt muſt fall under this general Rule. Thus, before it can be determined whether our Contempt be juſt, Reaſon alone muſt examine Circumſtances, ſeparate Ideas, diſtin⯑guiſh Truth from its Appearances, decide upon, reſtrain, and correct the Paſſion.

Thus Ridicule is no other than a Species of Eloquence: and accordingly we find it mentioned and expreſly treated as ſuch, by the beſt Writers of Antiquity. ARISTO⯑TLE, as in every Subject, leads the Way. ‘"As Ridicule ſeems to be of ſome Uſe in pleading, it was the Opinion of GORGIAS, that you ought to confound your Adver⯑ſary's ſerious Argument by Raillery, and his Raillery by ſerious Argument. And he judged well^h."’ Here he firſt gives the Sentiments of a Sage; and then con⯑firms them by his own Authority.

TO offer all that TULLY hath ſaid upon the Subject of Ridicule, would be to tranſ⯑cribe a conſiderable Part of his ſecond Book [44] De Oratore. After having gone through ſe⯑veral Topics of Rhetoric, he comes at length to this of Ridicule: and aſſigns to the elder CESAR the Taſk of explaining the Force and Application of this Art. In the Courſe of his Reaſonings on this Subject, he affirms Firſt, That Ridicule is a Branch of Eloquenceⁱ. 2dly, That certain Kinds of Turpitude or Incongruity are its proper Object^k. 3dly, That the Orator muſt be temperate in the Application of it^l. 4thly, That its Force may conſiſt either in Thought or Expreſſion, but that its Perfection lies in a Union of both^m. And laſtly, That af⯑ter [45] all, it is but the loweſt Kind of Elo⯑quenceⁿ.

QUINTILIAN builds chiefly on TULLY, when he treats of Ridicule in the ſixth Book of his Inſtitutions. He too conſiders it as a Branch of Eloquence, and gives Rules for its Efficacy and Reſtraint^o.

NOW, in Conſequence of theſe Proofs, a few Obſervations will naturally ariſe with regard to Ridicule in particular, ſimilar to thoſe which were made in the laſt Section, upon Eloquence in general.

AS firſt: Ridicule muſt render every Pro⯑poſition it ſupports apparently true, ere it can be received and acquieſced it. Thus every Opinion which Ridicule inſtills, tho' it be the pure Reſult of certain Images im⯑preſſed on the Imagination, by which the Paſſion of Contempt is excited, is always [46] regarded as the Conviction of Reaſon, and received by the Mind as Truth. And thus by offering apparent Truth, Ridicule gains its End of Perſuaſion.

AGAIN, it may be obſerved, that the Conſequences of Ridicule with regard to ſpeculative Inſtruction or Inquiry, are of a very different Nature from thoſe which re⯑late to Morals and Action. To the firſt it muſt ever be an Enemy: But to the latter it may be an Enemy or Friend according as it is fairly or diſhoneſtly applied. It comes in to the Aid of Argument, when its Im⯑preſſions on the Imagination and Paſſions are conſiſtent with the real Nature of Things: When it ſtrikes the Fancy and Af⯑fections with fictitious Images, it becomes the Inſtrument of Deceit.

THUS Ridicule may befriend either Truth or Falſehood: and as it is morally or im⯑morally applied, may illuſtrate the one, or diſguiſe the other. Yet it ſhould ſeem, that the moral is more natural, than the immoral Application of Ridicule; inaſmuch as Truth is more congenial to the Mind than Falſe⯑hood, and ſo, the real more eaſily made apparent, than the ſictitious Images of Things.

[47] RIDICULE, therefore, being of a vague, unſteady Nature, merely relative to the Imaginations and Paſſions of Mankind, there muſt be ſeveral Orders or Degrees of it, ſuited to the Fancies and Capacities of thoſe whom the Artiſt attempts to influence. Among theſe ſeveral Kinds of Ridicule, Juſtneſs of Thought and Expreſſion, adorn⯑ed with ſtriking Figures, is the higheſt: Coarſe Language, Buffoonry, falſe and inde⯑cent Images, are the Characters of the low⯑eſt. For as the Imagination and Paſſions are then moſt refined and juſt, when they bear to the ſame Point with Reaſon; ſo, that Species of Ridicule is moſt genuine which tends to conduct them thither.

BUT, however Ridicule may impreſs the Idea of apparent Turpitude or Falſe⯑hood on the Imagination; yet ſtill Reaſon remains the ſuperior and corrective Power. Therefore, every Repreſentation of Ridi⯑cule, which only applies to the Fancy and Affections, muſt finally be examined and de⯑cided upon, muſt be tried, rejected, or re⯑ceived, as the reaſoning Faculty ſhall deter⯑mine.

AND thus Ridicule can never be a De⯑tector of Falſehood, or a Teſt of Truth.

SECTION. V.

IN further Confirmation of theſe Truths, the direct Proofs of which may poſſibly lie ſomewhat remote from common Appre⯑henſion, let us appeal to Experience; to the general Senſe and Practice of Mankind. And here we ſhall find, that Contempt and Ridicule are always founded on preconceived Opinion, whatever be the Foundation of it, whether Reaſon or Imagination, Truth or Falſehood.

FOR in Fact, do not we ſee every diffe⯑rent Party and Aſſociation of Men deſpiſing and deriding each other according to their various Manner of Thought, Speech, and Action? Does not the Courtier deride the Foxhunter, and the Foxhunter the Cour⯑tier? What is more ridiculous to a Beau, than a Philoſopher; to a Philoſopher, than a Beau? Drunkards are the Jeſt of ſober Men, and ſober Men of Drunkards. Phy⯑ſicians, Lawyers, Soldiers, Prieſts, and Free⯑thinkers, are the ſtanding Subjects of Ridi⯑cule to one another. Wiſdom and Folly, the Virtuous and the Vile, the Learned and Ignorant, the Temperate and Debauched, [49] all give and return the Jeſt. According to the various Impreſſions of Fancy and Af⯑fection, the Aſpects of Things are varied; and conſequently the ſame Object, ſeen un⯑der theſe different Lights and Attitudes, muſt in one Mind produce Approbation, in another Contempt.

IF we examine the Conduct of political Bodies or religious Sects, we ſhall find it of a ſimilar Nature. Each of theſe railly every other, according to the Prejudices they have imbibed in Favour of their own Syſtem. How contemptible and ridiculous are the European Forms of Government, in the Eyes of an Aſiatic ^p? And do not we on this Side the Helleſpont repay them in their own Kind? Are we a whit more united among ourſelves in our Ideas of the Ridi⯑culous, when applied to Modes of Empire? What is more contemptible to an Engliſh⯑man, than that ſlaviſh Submiſſion to arbi⯑trary Will and lawleſs Power, which pre⯑vails almoſt univerſally on the Continent? And they are little acquainted with the State [50] of Affairs abroad, who know not that, within the Precincts of Tyranny, Engliſh Freedom is one of the commoneſt Topics of Raillery and Ridicule: Every Man's judg⯑ing for himſelf, is the Subject of the French⯑man's Drollery: One Man's judging for all, is the Subject of ours. The Caſe is parallel with regard to religious Tenets, where Peo⯑ple are at Liberty to ſpeak their Thoughts. Is there any Species of Invective which the Church of Rome hath not exerciſed upon all who have diſſented from its Meaſures? And have not the Divines of the reformed Churches been as arrant Droles, in Vindi⯑cation of their reſpective Syſtems? What Ribaldry and coarſe Banter hath been thrown (nay rather, what hath not been thrown) by the Freethinkers, on Religion and Chriſti⯑anity? And how baſely have ſome of our Divines proſtituted their Pens in former Days, by deſcending to the ſame dirty Le⯑vel? Even the Soureneſs of Puritaniſm, nay, the Sullenneſs of Quakeriſm have ſometimes relaxed and yielded themſelves up to the Love of Joking: And ſly Hints, in demure Phraſe and ſober Countenance, have as plainly ſpoken their Contempt of thoſe they pitied, as the loud Laughter and Grimace [51] of worldly Men, the Diſdain of thoſe they profeſs to hate.

BUT what need we wonder that a Diffe⯑rence of Opinion in ſuch weighty Affairs as thoſe of Government and Religion ſhould inſpire a mutual Contempt, when we ſee that any conſiderable Variation of Manners in the moſt ordinary Circumſtances of Life has the ſame Effect? The Cuſtoms of an⯑cient Times have been held ſo ridiculous by many Moderns, that honeſt HOMER hath been branded as a Dunce, only becauſe he hath recorded them. What Raillery hath been thrown on the venerable Bard, as well as the Hero he deſcribes, only becauſe he hath told us, that PATROCLUS acted in the Capacity of Cook for himſelf, and his Friend Achilles ^q: And that the Princeſs Nauſicaa followed by all her Maids, went down to waſh the King's and Queen's Cloaths along with her own^r? Rebecca and her Hiſto⯑rian ^s have fallen under the ſame ignorant Cenſure, becauſe ſhe went down to draw Water: And ſo have the Daughters of AU⯑GUSTUS, for ſpinning their Father's Cloaths, [52] when he was Maſter of the World. Thus the undebauched Simplicity of ancient Times, becomes the Jeſt of modern Luxury and Folly. From the ſame Principle, any new Mode of Speech or Action, ſeen in our own Times, appears ridiculous to thoſe who give Way to the Sallies of uninformed Con⯑tempt and Laughter. What ſuperior Airs of Mirth and Gayety may be ſeen in a Club of Citizens, paſſing Judgment on the Scotch, the Weſtern, or any other remote provincial Dialect? while at the other End of the Town, the Stream of Ridicule runs as ſtrong on the Manners and Dialect of the Ex⯑change. The leaſt unuſual Circumſtance of Habit, beyond what the Faſhion pre⯑ſcribes, is by turns ſo ſenſibly ridiculous, that one half of the Expence of Dreſs ſeems to conſiſt in accommodating it to the Dic⯑tates and Caprice of the current Opinion. And it is a juſt Complaint of the greateſt Tragic Poet of the Age, that this indulged Spirit of Ridicule is a fundamental Ob⯑ſtruction to the Improvement of the French Theatre. ‘"We dare not, ſays he, ha⯑zard any thing new upon the Stage, in the Preſence of a People whoſe conſtant [53] Practice is, to ridicule every thing that is not faſhionable ^t."’

NEITHER is the Taſte of Mankind leſs capricious with regard to the Methods of Ridicule^v, than the Objects of it. How many Sayings and Repartées are recorded from Antiquity as the Quinteſſence of Rail⯑lery, which among us only raiſe a Laugh, becauſe they are inſipid? TULLY himſelf often attempts in vain to extort a Smile from his modern Reader. Even the ſales Plautini have in great Meaſure loſt their Poignancy. There is a certain Mode of Ridicule peculiar to every Age and Country. What a curious Contraſt to each other are an Italian and a Dutch Buffoon? And I ſuppoſe the Raillery of a French and a Ruſſian Drole are as different as the nim⯑ble Pranks of a Monkey, from the rude Gam⯑bols of a Bear. Even the ſame Country hath numerous Subdiviſions and under [54] Species of Ridicule. What is high Hu⯑mour at Wapping, is rejected as nauſeous in the City: What is delicate Raillery in the City, grows coarſe and intolerable as you approach St. James's: And many a well meant Joke, that paſſes unheeded in all theſe various Diſtricts, would ſet an innocent Country Village in an Uproar of Laugh⯑ter.

THIS Subject might be much enlarged on: For the Modes and Objects of Ridi⯑cule are as indefinite as the imagined Com⯑binations of Things. But from theſe Ex⯑amples drawn from the Conduct of parti⯑culars, it appears no leſs than from the ge⯑neral Nature and Faculties of Man, that Ridicule hath no other Source than Imagi⯑nation, Paſſion, Prejudice, and preconceived Opinion: And therefore can never be the Detecter of Falſehood, or Teſt of Truth.

SECTION VI.

THE Cauſe might be ſafely reſted here. Yet, to throw a ſtill clearer Light on the Subject of our Enquiry, let us now examine what his Lordſhip hath advanced in Sup⯑port of his new Method of Inveſtigation. [55] And as the noble Writer hath not thought it expedient to deſcend often to the argu⯑mentative Way; we muſt make the moſt of what we find in him that looks like a Reaſon.

HE tells his Friend, that ‘"nothing is ri⯑diculous except what is deformed; nor is any thing Proof againſt Raillery, except what is handſome and juſt:—one may defy the World to turn real Bravery and Generoſity into Ridicule. A Man muſt be ſoundly ridiculous, who, with all the Wit imaginable, would go about to ridi⯑cule Wiſdom, or laugh at Honeſty or good Manners^w."’

HERE we have a Mixture of equivocal Language and pompous Declamation. If he means to aſſert, that ‘"nothing is ridicu⯑lous, except what is apparently deform⯑ed,"’ the Propoſition is true, but foreign to the Purpoſe: Becauſe, through the Er⯑ror of Imagination, Things apparently de⯑formed may be really beautiful. If he means to aſſert, that ‘"nothing can be made to ap⯑pear ridiculous, but what is really de⯑formed,"’ I ſhould be glad to know where the noble Author had converſed: In the [56] Platonic Republic, it may be ſo: But, in our Gothic Syſtems, Matters go quite otherwiſe: So far as common Obſervation reaches, it is eaſieſt of all Things to make that appear ri⯑diculous, which is not really deformed: And how ſhould it be otherwiſe, while the human Imagination is liable to be impoſed on, and capable of receiving fictitious for real Repreſentations?

THE noble Author tells us next, that ‘"nothing is Proof againſt Raillery, except what is handſome and juſt."’—Perhaps, nor that neither. Though it be true, that nothing of the oppoſite Kind is proof againſt Raillery; yet ſure it is a ſtrange Miſtake to imagine, that what is really handſome and juſt is always Proof againſt it. For, by ſictitious Images impreſſed on the Fancy, what is really handſome and juſt, is often rendered apparently falſe and deformed; and thus becomes actually contemptible and ridiculous.

BUT ‘"one may defy the World to turn real Bravery and Generoſity into Ridi⯑cule."’ Safely, my Lord; while they retain their native Appearance, and Beauty of Proportion. But alas, how eaſy is it to diſguiſe them! It is but concealing, varying, [57] or adding a Circumſtance that may ſtrike the Fancy, and they at once aſſume new Shapes, new Names, and Natures. Thus the Virtues which, ſeen in a direct Light, attract our Admiration by their Beauty; when beheld through the oblique Mediums of Ridicule ſtart up in the Forms of Ideots, Hags, and Monſters.

BUT the noble Writer enforces theſe ge⯑neral Appeals to Fact, by one extraordinary Inſtance. He tells us, ‘"The divineſt Man who had ever appeared in the Hea⯑then World, was in the Height of witty Times, and by the wittieſt of all Poets, moſt abominably ridiculed, in a whole Comedy writ and acted on Purpoſe: But ſo far was this from ſinking his Repu⯑tation, or ſuppreſſing his Philoſophy, that they each increaſed the more for it^x."’ It muſt be owned, this is an extraordinary Aſ⯑ſertion, unleſs he means to affirm, that the Reputation and Philoſophy of SOCRATES aroſe from his Blood, as ‘"the Chriſtian Sects ſprung from the Blood of Martyrs^y."’ For it appears from all the Records of Antiquity, that the Wit of ARISTOPHANES was the moſt formidable Enemy that ever attacked [58] the divine Philoſopher: This whetted the Rage of a miſled Multitude, and dragged to Death that Virtue which hath ever ſince been the Admiration of Mankind. In this Opinion, we have the Concurrence of the firſt Writer of the preſent Age^z: And the Confeſſion of another, who, although of a Turn conceited and fantaſtical enough, is yet of unqueſtioned Credit for his Inge⯑nuity and Learning. This Writer, ſpeak⯑ing of the wild Wit of an ARISTOPHANES, tells us, that ‘"the Comedy inſcribed The Clouds, is an execrable Attempt to ex⯑poſe one of the wiſeſt and beſt of Men to the Fury and Contempt of a lewd Multitude, in which it had but too much Succeſs ^a."’

'TIS true, PALMERIUS, a learned French Critic of the laſt Age, had, from the Num⯑ber of Years between the acting The Clouds of ARISTOPHANES, and the Death of SO⯑CRATES, pretended that AELIAN was miſ⯑taken in aſſigning this Play as one of the principal Cauſes of his Deſtruction. P. BRUMOY, who has wrote ſo excellently of the Greek Theatre, after having examined [59] the Affair with the utmoſt Candour, con⯑cludes thus: ‘"His Account (AELIAN's) ſeems only defective, in that he hath not remarked the long interval that paſſed be⯑tween the Repreſentation of The Clouds, and the Condemnation of SOCRATES. But although the Comedy did not give the finiſhing Stroke to SOCRATES; yet it might have indiſpoſed the Minds of the People, ſince theſe comic Accuſations be⯑came very ſerious ones, which at length deſtroyed the wiſeſt of the Greeks ^b."’ But ſince the noble Author ſeems to have adopted the other Opinion, and, as I am told, ſome ſhallow Mimics of modern Platoniſm have lately ſtollen PALMERIUS's Criticiſm, and revived this ſtale Pretence, of the Num⯑ber of Years between the Repreſentation of The Clouds, and the Death of SOCRATES; it may be neceſſary to tranſcribe the follow⯑ing Paſſage from PLATO's Apology, which puts the Matter beyond all Doubt: ‘"But it [60] is juſt, O Athenians, that I ſhould firſt reply to the falſe Charge of my FIRST ACCUSERS. Becauſe ſeveral laid their groundleſs Accuſations againſt me, MANY YEARS AGO: whom I DREAD MORE than the Adherents of ANYTUS; though theſe too be very powerful in Perſuaſion: But thoſe are ſtill more powerful, who have poſ⯑ſeſſed and ſway'd you FROM YOUR VERY IN⯑FANCY, in laying falſe Accuſations againſt me. Many, indeed, have been theſe my Accuſers, and LONG HAVE THEY CON⯑TINUED thus to accuſe me, and perſuaded and miſled you at that EARLY AGE, when you were MOST EASY OF BELIEF: While I, in the mean Time, was without one Defender. And what is worſt of all, I know not ſo much as their very Names, except only that of THE COMEDIAN.—What then do my Accuſers ſay?—SO⯑CRATES is criminal, in that he enquires too curiouſly concerning what is under the Earth, and in the Heavens, and in that he can make the worſe appear the better Reaſon; and that he teaches theſe Things to others. Such then is the Ac⯑cuſation: For ſuch Things you ſaw in [61] ARISTOPHANES's COMEDY, where a fictitious SOCRATES is carried about, af⯑firming, that he takes Journeys through the Air, and talking much more idle Stuff of the ſame Nature^c."’

HERE we ſee, the Philoſopher refers their Accuſation to its original Cauſe: And this he poſitively affirms, was no other than the old Impreſſions made againſt him on the [62] Minds of the Athenians, by the Comedy of THE CLOUDS^d.

SO much for the Silencing, which is the only Conviction, of Obſtinacy and Igno⯑rance. But in Reality, it is a Matter of ſmall Conſequence, in the preſent Queſtion, Whether the Ridicule of the comic Poet was in Fact deſtructive to the divine Philo⯑ſopher or not. But as it demonſtrably was, it is therefore a Caſe in Point. However, ſuppoſe it was not; what is the Conſe⯑quence? Why, only this: That diſhoneſt [63] Ridicule failed of its deſired Succeſs, in one Inſtance. And how does this affect the Queſtion, ſo long as Ten thouſand other Inſtances may be alledged to the contrary, which no Man, that is not void of common Senſe or common Honeſty, can poſſibly deny?

FROM the Appeals to Fact, already made^e, may be drawn innumerable Inſtances of this Nature. There we ſee Truth, Wiſ⯑dom, Virtue, Liberty, ſucceſsfully diſguiſed and derided; by this very means the Cauſe of Falſehood, Folly, Vice, Tyranny main⯑tained: If to theſe it were neceſſary to add more; we cannot perhaps in Hiſtory find a more flagrant Proof of the Power of Ridi⯑cule againſt Virtue herſelf, than in that Heap of execrable Comedies, which have been the Bane and Reproach of this Kingdom thro' a Series of ninety Years. During this Pe⯑riod, the Generality of our comic Poets have been the unwearied Miniſters of Vice: And have done her Work with ſo thorough an Induſtry, that it would be hard to find one Virtue, which they have not ſacrificed at her Shrine. As Effects once eſtabliſhed are not eaſily removed, ſo not only this, but the [64] ſucceeding Generation will probably retain the Impreſſions made in the two preceding ones; when Innocence was the Sport of abandoned Villany; and the ſucceſsful Adul⯑terer decked out with all the Poet's Art, at the Expence of the ridiculed and injured Huſband: When moral Virtue and Religion were made the Jeſt of the licentious; and female Modeſty was baniſhed, to make Way for ſhameleſs Effrontery:

SECTION VII.

HERE then we have accumulated Proofs of the fatal Influences of Ridicule, when let looſe from the Reſtraints of Rea⯑ſon.

YET ſtill his Lordſhip inſiſts, that ‘"Truth, 'tis ſuppoſed, may bear all Lights^g."’ To which it is replied, that ‘"Truth will indeed bear every Light, but a falſe one."’ He adds, that ‘"one of thoſe principal Lights or natural Mediums by which [65] Things are to be viewed, in order to a thorow Recognition, is Ridicule itſelf^h."’ This is full as wiſe a Method to manifeſt the Rectitude of Truth, as it would be to ſhew the Rectitude of a ruling Staff, to emerge one part of it in clear Water. The Staff indeed would ſtill continue ſtrait, but the two Mediums, in which it lies, though both natural ones, would concur to make it appear crooked. Juſt ſo it is with Truth, when half ſhewn by the Medium of Reaſon, and the other half, by the Medium of Ridi⯑cule.

BUT the noble Writer aſks us, ‘"How can any one of the leaſt Juſtneſs of Thought endure a Ridicule wrong placedⁱ?"’—I anſwer, by being miſled or miſtaken; and then Men are ready to bear any thing. Shew me him whoſe Imagi⯑nation never received or retained a falſe Im⯑preſſion, and I ſhall readily allow he can never endure a Ridicule wrong placed. But of this infallible Race I know none, except the Inhabitants of Utopia. 'Tis true, he candidly acknowledges, that ‘"the Vulgar may ſwallow any ſordid Jeſt, any mere Drollery and Buſſoonry ^k."’ Indeed! How [66] then can he deſy the World to turn real Bra⯑very or Generoſity into Ridicule, or laugh ſuc⯑ceſsfully at Honeſty or Good-manners? And where was the Wonder or Improbability, that the Wit of ARISTOPHANES ſhould in⯑cite a lewd Multitude to deſtroy the divine Philoſopher ^l?.

BUT then he tells us, ‘"It muſt be a ſiner and truer Wit that takes with the men of Senſe and Breeding ^m."’ This Sentence it muſt be owned is artful enough: Becauſe it obliges one to make a Separation that may look like ill-natured, before one can expoſe its Weakneſs. A truer Wit in⯑deed may be neceſſary to take with the Men of Senſe; but theſe, I apprehend, may ſometimes be diſtinguiſhed from the Men of Breeding: For it is certain, that in moſt Countries the Vulgar are a much more con⯑ſiderable Body, than is generally imagined. Yet, although neither Reaſon nor the Paſ⯑ſions gain any Advantages from high Life, [67] it muſt be owned, the Imagination acquires a certain Delicacy, which the low Vulgar are generally Strangers to. The coarſe Pranks of a merry Andrew that engage the At⯑tention of a Country Fair, would make but a poor Figure at St. James's. But ſtill it is only in the Modes, not the Objects of Ridi⯑cule, with regard to which the Courtier dif⯑fers from the Clown. The Peaſant and his Lord are equally ſuſceptible of falſe Im⯑preſſions; equally liable to have Falſehood obtruded on them for Truth, Folly for Wiſ⯑dom, Vice for Virtue: The Methods only of Ridicule, the Engines of Deceit muſt vary; muſt be accommodated to the dif⯑ferent Views of Things and Circumſtances of Life, among which they have reſpectively been converſant. Thus it muſt indeed be a finer, but by no means a truer Kind of Wit, that takes with the Men of Breed⯑ing.

THE noble Writer proceeds to aſk, ‘"What Rule or Meaſure is there in the World, except in the conſidering the real Temper of Things, to find which are truly ſerious, and which ridiculous? And how can this be done, unleſs by applying [68] the Ridicule, to ſee whether it will bearⁿ?"’—Yes ſure, there is another Rule: The Rule of Reaſon: Which alone can diſtinguiſh Appearances from Realities, and fix the true Nature of Things: From whoſe Determinations alone, we ever can diſtin⯑guiſh true from pretended Gravity, juſt from groundleſs Raillery. But the Way of Inveſtigation here propoſed by his Lordſhip, inverts the very Order and Conſtitution of Things: By this means Appearances take the Place of Realities; Imagination uſurps the Sovereignty which belongs to Reaſon; and RIDICULE IS MADE THE TEST OF WHAT IS RATIONAL, INSTEAD OF REA⯑SON BEING MADE THE TEST OF WHAT IS RIDICULOUS.

YET ſtill the noble Author ſuſpects ill Conſequences: That Subjects ‘"may be very grave and weighty in our Imagination, but very ridiculous and impertinent in their own Nature^o."’ True: and on the other hand, Things may appear ridiculous and impertinent in our Imagination, which are very grave and weighty in their own Na⯑ture. What then is the Conſequence in either Caſe? Why, only this: That Ima⯑gination, [69] and therefore Ridicule which de⯑pends upon it, can never be a Teſt of Truth.

BUT his Lordſhip inſiſts, that ‘"Gravity is of the very Eſſence of Impoſture^p."’ Yet this will do little for his Purpoſe, un⯑leſs he can prove too, that ‘"Impoſture is of the Eſſence of Gravity."’ And if ſo, what will become of the Enquiry concerning Virtue? Gravity, it is true, is commonly an Attendant of Impoſture: And ſo is Laugh⯑ter, generally ſpeaking, of Folly. With as much Reaſon therefore as the noble Writer infers from hence, that Gravity is Impoſture, we may infer that Laughter is Folly in Diſ⯑guiſe. In Truth, the Inference is ground⯑leſs, in both Caſes. Though every Knave ſhould affect Gravity, yet every grave Man is not a Knave: Though every Fool will be Laughing, yet every Man that laughs is not a Fool: We may be ſerious and honeſt, as well as merry and wiſe. Mirth and Gra⯑vity are both harmleſs Things, provided they be properly applied: And we have ſeen that it is the Province of Reaſon alone, to determine when they are ſo.

BUT after all, the Propoſition, that Gra⯑vity is of the Eſſence of Impoſture, is falſe: [70] It is only an occaſional, though, indeed, a pretty cloſe, attendant, ſince this other Maxim was taken for granted, that Reaſon was the Teſt of Truth. Let once his Lord⯑ſhip's be generally embraced, that Ridicule is ſo, and we ſhould ſoon ſee Buffoonry as cloſe an Attendant on Impoſture as now Gravity. The Tryal has been made; and ſucceſsfully enough too, by him who has kept the Multitude in Opinion for twenty Years together; and by this Time, perhaps, himſelf, that Learning and Religion are bet⯑ter taught in his Conventicle, than in all the Univerſities and Churches of Chriſtendom put together. And ſure if any thing be the Eſſence of his Impoſture, it is Buffoonry.

AND here let us not forget to obſerve, that the noble Writer often (as in the Paſ⯑ſage laſt cited) confounds Mirth, Urbanity, or Good-humour, with Raillery or Ridicule: Than which, no two Things in Nature are more diametrically oppoſite. The firſt, as it ariſeth ſolely from ſudden and pleaſing Re⯑ſemblances impreſſed on the Imagination, is juſtly regarded by all, as the beſt Mediator in every Debate. The laſt, as it ariſeth ſolely from Contempt, is therefore no leſs juſtly regarded by moſt, as an Embroiler and [71] Incendiary. He ſets out with a formal Pro⯑feſſion of proving the Efficacy of Humour and Ridicule in the Inveſtigation of Truth: Yet, by ſhifting and mixing his Terms, he generally ſlides inſenſibly into mere Enco⯑miums on Good-breeding, Chearfulneſs, Ur⯑banity, and free Enquiry; and then, from theſe Premiſes, often draws Conſequences in Favour of Ridicule, as if it were an equi⯑valent Term. This indeed keeps ſome⯑thing like an Argument on Foot, and miſ⯑leads the ſuperficial Reader.

BUT the noble Author triumphs in an⯑other Obſervation: When ſpeaking of mo⯑dern Zealots, he tells us, that ‘"whatever they think grave and ſolemn, they ſup⯑poſe muſt never be treated out of a grave and ſolemn Way. Though what another thinks ſo, they can be contented to treat otherwiſe: And are forward to try the Edge of Ridicule againſt any Opinions be⯑ſides their own^q."’ Now, if this be ſo; how is Gravity of the Eſſence of Impoſture, as he had before affirmed? But whatever becomes of that Propoſition, the Remark is juſt. And whomſoever he means to Com⯑pliment with the Name of Zealots, whe⯑ther [72] in Religion or Freethinking, I ſhall not compliment as Exceptions to the Truth of it. There is ſcarce a Topic of Religion, either for its Diſhonour or Support, that hath not been expoſed to the illiberal Jokes of ſome Bungler in Controverſy. And a much coarſer Advocate in the Cauſe of Ri⯑dicule^r, hath wrote an elaborate and moſt te⯑dious Diſſertation, to prove that the Way of Raillery hath been ſucceſsfully applied by every Sect of Religioniſts and Infidels, to the Deſtruction of each other's Tenets, and the Eſtabliſhment of their own. How he gains his Concluſion, that an Engine which tends to fix Mankind in their preconceived Opinions, and eſtabliſh ſo many Species of Error, is of Importance and Efficacy in the Search of Truth, may not be ſo eaſy to de⯑termine. In the mean time, in Reply to his whole Treatiſe, as well as to the laſt mentioned Remark of our noble Author, it may be ſufficient to obſerve, that Mankind often retain their own, and oppoſe others' Opinions, from an imperfect View of the Nature of Things: Their peculiar Tenets in Religion, as in other Subjects, are often founded in Imagination only: Their Ob⯑jections [73] to thoſe of others are often as groundleſs and fanciful. How natural then is it for them to communicate their Opi⯑nions on that Foundation on which they re⯑ceived them? How natural, that they ſhould throw the Colours of Imagination on the Tenets they oppoſe? That they ſhould ob⯑trude the like fictitious Images on others, which themſelves have embraced as Truth? That they ſhould hold forth Appearances for Realities; employ Eloquence inſtead of Logick; and endeavour to perſuade whom they ſhould, but cannot, convince?

IT ſeems therefore that his Lordſhip's Obſervation (which contains the Quinteſ⯑ſence of his Aſſociate's Work, and which probably was the Leaven that leavened the whole Lump of Malice and Dulneſs) inſtead of being favourable to Ridicule as a Teſt of Truth, can only tend to diſgrace it. For ſince every religious and unbelieving Sect hath alike ſucceſsfully employed it in ſupport⯑ing their reſpective Tenets, and in render⯑ing thoſe of their Adverſaries contemptible; it follows, inaſmuch as Doctrines which are eſſentially repugnant cannot all be true, that RIDICULE IS ONE OF THE MOST POWER⯑FUL [74] ENGINES, BY WHICH ERROR CAN BE MAINTAINED AND ESTABLISHED.

SECTION VIII.

WE ſhall only mention one more of the noble Writer's Arguments in Favour of his new Teſt: But it is, indeed, the very Key-Stone of this viſionary Arch, which he hath with ſuch fantaſtic Labour thrown over the Depths of Error, in order to invite Mankind over it as a ſhort and ſecure Paſſage to the Abode of Truth and Wiſdom.

HE tells us, that a new Species of En⯑thuſiaſts (French Prophets) having lately riſen up among us, ‘"We have delivered them over to the cruelleſt Contempt in the World. I am told for certain, that they are at this very Time the Subject of a choice Droll or Puppet-ſhow at Bart'lmy-Fair.—And while Bart'lmy-Fair is in Poſſeſſion of this Privilege, I I dare ſtand Security to our national Church, that no Sect of Enthuſiaſts, no new Venders of Prophecy or Mira⯑cles, ſhall ever get the Start, or put her to the Trouble of trying her Strength with them, in any Caſe^s."’

[75] SO far, for Peace ſake, we venture to agree with the noble Writer: But now comes a finiſhing Stroke indeed.

FOR he proceeds to congratulate the pre⯑ſent Age, that in the Beginnings of the Re⯑formation, when Popery had got Poſſeſſion, Smithfield was uſed in a more tragical Way. And that ‘"had not the Prieſts, as is uſual, preferred the Love of Blood to all other Paſſions, they might in a merrier Way, perhaps, have evaded the greateſt Force of our reforming Spirit ^t."’

AND now, for Form's ſake, let us ſuppoſe the noble Author to be what he aſſumes, a Friend to Religion and Reformation: Un⯑der this Character, he recommends Ridicule to us, as of ſovereign Uſe to inveſtigate Truth, try Honeſty, and unmaſk formal Hypocriſy and Error. To prove this Uſe, he tells us, what we ſhould leaſt have ex⯑pected, that if, inſtead of the tragical Way of Smithfield, the Romiſh Prieſts had pre⯑ferred the comic Drollery of Bart'lmy-Fair, they had perhaps gained their Point, and evaded the greateſt Force of our reforming Spirit. Here the noble Writer forgets his Part, which is that of a Believer and a Pro⯑teſtant. [76] But, in his Scarcity of Proofs for the Uſe of Ridicule, he has put the Change upon us, and perhaps upon himſelf, and offered at one to ſhew its Force: Which, without doubt, muſt wonderfully recom⯑mend it to the Favour of all ſober Men. Here then lies the Dilemma: Let his Fol⯑lowers then get him off as they can. If their Maſter be a Believer, he has reaſoned ill; if a Freethinker, he has managed worſe. Had he been a little more knowing in the Times he ſpeaks of, he might have found an Inſtance more pertinent to his Argu⯑ment, and more conformable to his Cha⯑racter; an Inſtance which ſhews, not what Ridicule might be ſuppoſed capable of do⯑ing, but what it actually effected. And this not to ſtop Reformation, but to diſcre⯑dit Popery. Biſhop BURNET tells us, that in the Year 1542, ‘"Plays and Interludes were a great Abuſe: In them, Mock-Repreſentations were made, both of the Clergy and of the Pageantry of their Worſhip. The Clergy complained much of theſe as an Introduction to Atheiſm, when Things ſacred were thus laughed at: And ſaid, they that begun to laugh at Abuſes, would not ceaſe till they had re⯑preſented [77] all the Myſteries of Religion as ridiculous: The graver Sort of Re⯑formers did not approve of it: But poli⯑tical Men encouraged it; and thought nothing could more effectually pull down the Abuſes that yet remained, than the expoſing them to the Scorn of the Na⯑tion^v."’

THIS curious Piece of Hiſtory is re⯑markable; and tends no leſs to ſupport our general Argument, than to recommend, what the noble Writer is pleaſed to ſnear at, the Sobriety of our reforming Spirit. Political men, ſays the Hiſtorian, whoſe Buſineſs, and therefore whoſe aim, was to perſuade, encouraged the Way of Ridicule: But the graver Sort of Reformers, whoſe nobler Miniſtry, and conſequently whoſe purpoſe, was to convince, did not approve of it.

BUT his Lordſhip is ſo fond of his Re⯑flection, that he puſhes it ſtill further. ‘"I never heard (ſays he) that the ancient Heathens were ſo well adviſed in their ill Purpoſe of ſuppreſſing the Chriſtian Re⯑ligion in its firſt Riſe, as to make uſe at any Time of this Bart'lmy-Fair Method. [78] But this I am perſuaded of, that, had the Truth of the Goſpel been any way ſur⯑mountable, they would have bid much fairer for the ſilencing it, if they had choſen to bring our primitive Founders upon the Stage in a pleaſanter Way, than that of Bear-Skins and Pitch-Barrels^w."’ And as to the Jews, he ſays, that ‘"with all their Malice and Inveteracy to our Savi⯑our and his Apoſtles after him, had they but taken the Fancy to act ſuch Puppet-Shows in his Contempt, as at this Hour the Papiſts are acting in his Honour; I am apt to think they might poſſibly have done our Religion more harm, than by all their other Ways of Severity^x."’

WHAT a Favourite is that facetious Droll of Wood and Wire, the Bart'lmy Fair Hero, with theſe modern Advocates for Mirth and Raillery! And indeed, not without cauſe, for of him they ſeem to have learnt their very wittieſt Practices. Who taught them to turn their Backs upon their Betters; to diſturb the moſt ſerious Scenes with an un⯑ſavoury Joke; and make a Jeſt of the De⯑vil? Indeed they have ſo well taken off his Manners, that one Deſcription will ſerve [79] them both. And whether you ſuppoſe the fine one which follows to be meant of the original, or one of the Copies you are equally ſure you have a good Likeneſs.

BUT to return to our Argument. Be you well aſſured of this, kind Reader, that whatever Impreſſions are made upon a Po⯑pulace in the Way of Scenery and dramatic Repreſentation, are no more than ſo many Kinds of ſilent Eloquence and Perſuaſion: That Facts which ought to be proved, are always taken for granted, and Things and Perſons often rendered apparently abſurd, which really are not ſo. That the Vulgar (both high and low) are apt to ſwallow any ſordid Jeſt or Buffoonry, ſo it be but accom⯑modated to their preconceived Opinions: That this Way of Ridicule, like every other, [80] as it is fairly or diſhoneſtly applied, will ſweep away Truth or Falſehood without Diſtinction: That it will confound French Prophets with Engliſh Reformers, and on the ſame falſe Foundation eſtabliſh the Truths of Proteſtantiſm, or the Abſurdities of Popery. That as Virtue herſelf cannot bear up againſt a Torrent of Ridicule, ſo neither can Religion: That therefore Chriſti⯑anity had indeed more to fear from the contemptuous Miſrepreſentations, than the bittereſt Rage of its Enemies: That Chriſti⯑anity did in Fact endure this more than firey Trial: That its divine Founder was de⯑rided ^z as well as crucified: That they who in ſucceeding Times ſuffered for the Faith, endured cruel Mockings no leſs than Scourg⯑ings, Bonds, and Impriſonment: That many a brave Martyr offered up his Prayers to Heaven, that he might be releaſed by Death from the Contempt of his Enemies: And af⯑ter being baited in the Bear-Skin, found a Refuge in the Faggot, or the Pitch-Barrel.

SECTION IX.

HOWEVER, the noble Writer's Mo⯑deſty muſt not be forgotten. For while he [81] might have arrogated to himſelf the Glory of this wondrous Diſcovery, he hath in⯑formed us of an ancient Sage, whoſe Idea of Ridicule coincided with his own. ‘"'Twas the Saying of an ancient Sage, that Humour was the only Teſt of Gra⯑vity^a."’

THE Reader will probably be ſurprized to find that the Paſſage here referred to by the noble Writer, is no other than what hath been already quoted from ARISTO⯑TLE^b as a Direction to the Conduct of an Orator. 'Tis likewiſe remarkable, that his Lordſhip, in quoting the original Paſſage in his Margin, has, by the prudent Omiſſion of an emphatical Expreſſion, converted it from a particular Rule of Rhetoric into a general Maxim of Philoſophy^c. But 'tis of all moſt remarkable, that in his pretended Tranſlation, he hath entirely perverted the Senſe of the Author, whoſe Authority he attempts to build upon.

‘"As Ridicule (ſays the great Philoſo⯑pher) ſeems to be of ſome Uſe in Plead⯑ing; it was the Opinion of GORGIAS, [82] that you ought to confound your Adver⯑ſary's ſerious Argument by Raillery, and his Raillery by ſerious Argument."’ This is almoſt a literal Tranſlation of the Paſ⯑ſage. But how the noble Author could ſo far impoſe upon himſelf or others, as to ſtrip it of its native Dreſs, and diſguiſe it under the fantaſtical Appearance of a Maxim, ‘"that Humour is the only Teſt of Gravity, and Gravity of Humour,"’—this is not ſo eaſy to account for.

HOWEVER this came to paſs, 'tis cer⯑tain, that the Obſervation, as it lies in ARI⯑STOTLE, is a juſt and a fine one: as it lies in the noble Writer's maimed Tranſlation, it is falſe, if not unmeaning.

THAT an Orator ſhould confound his Ad⯑verſary's Raillery by ſerious Argument, is ra⯑tional and juſt. By this means he tears off the falſe Diſguiſes of Eloquence, and diſ⯑tinguiſheth real from apparent Truth. That he ſhould confound his Adverſary's ſerious Argument by Raillery, is, if not a juſt, yet a legal Practice. The Aim and End of the Advocate or Orator is Perſuaſion only; to Truth or Falſehood as it happens. If he hath Truth on his Side, it is likely what he will have then to do, will be to confound his [83] Adverſary's Raillery by ſerious Argument. If Truth be againſt him, he will be forced to change Weapons with his Adverſary, whoſe ſerious Argument he muſt try to con⯑found by Raillery. This is all the Myſtery there is in the Matter? By which we ſee, that whenever in this caſe Ridicule is op⯑poſed to Reaſoning, it is ſo far from being the Teſt or Support, that it is the Deſtruction of Truth. And the judicious QUINTILIAN fairly confeſſes it, where he aſſigns the Cauſe why Ridicule is of ſuch mighty Force in Oratory—‘"Quia animum ab in⯑tentione rerum frequenter avertit"’—Be⯑cauſe it draws off the Mind from attending to the real Nature of Things. Thus you ſee the Propriety and Beauty of the Saying of our ancient Sage, when fairly repreſented.

BUT as the noble Writer hath tranſlated the Paſſage, it is a Curioſity indeed. ‘"Hu⯑mour is the only Teſt of Gravity, and Gravity of Humour."’ He applies it not to Eloquence, but Philoſophy; not to Per⯑ſuaſion, but Conviction. And ſo, by the ſtrangeſt Converſion in Nature, makes the Trier, and the Thing tried, each in their turns, become Agent and Patient to one an⯑other. But what Artiſt ever attempted to [84] try the Juſtneſs of his Square or Level, by the Work which he has formed by the Aſ⯑ſiſtance of thoſe Inſtruments? Or was ever the Gold which hath been put to the Teſt, reciprocally applied to try the Touch-Stone? If therefore Gravity, or Reaſoning, be the Teſt of Humour; Humour never can be the Teſt of Gravity: As on the other hand, if Humour be the Teſt of Gravity, then Gra⯑vity can never be the Teſt of Humour.

SINCE therefore this ſee-ſaw Kind of Proof returns into itſelf, and conſequently ends in an Abſurdity; 'tis plain, that one half of the noble Writer's Propoſition muſt effectually deſtroy the other: Let us ſee then, which Moiety deſerves to be ſup⯑ported. His own Comment on the Paſ⯑ſage will help us to determine. Which however, he ſeems deſirous his Reader ſhould receive as a Part of the Saying of his ancient Sage: But whoever will turn to the Paſſage, as it lies in ARISTOTLE, will find that GORGIAS is entirely innocent of the whole Affair.

‘"GRAVITY, ſays his Lordſhip, is the Teſt of Humour: Becauſe a Jeſt that will not bear a ſerious Examination, is cer⯑tainly falſe Wit."’ True: here we have a [85] rational Teſt eſtabliſhed. Next he inverts the Propoſition, ſets it with its Head down⯑wards, like a Traytor's Scutcheon, and now, ſays he, behold ‘"Humour is the Teſt of Gravity."’ To prove this, Reaſon re⯑quires he ſhould have added, ‘"Becauſe an Argument, which can be ſucceſsfully ri⯑diculed, is certainly falſe Logic."’ But this was too hardy a Propoſition to be di⯑rectly advanced: He therefore contents himſelf with hinting, that ‘"a Subject which will not bear Raillery is ſuſpicious!"’ Now we know, that Suſpicion is often ground⯑leſs: That what is ſuſpected to be falſe, may yet be true. So that the noble Writer again ſuffers this new Teſt to ſlip through his Fingers, even while he is holding it up to your Admiration. But if any thing fur⯑ther be neceſſary to clear up this Point, it may be obſerved in ſhort, that Gravity or Argument is the Teſt of Humour, becauſe Reaſon marks the real Differences of Things: That Humour can never be the Teſt of Gravity, becauſe Imagination can only ſuggeſt their apparent Analogies.

THUS the Sentiment of GORGIAS is groſly miſtaken or deſignedly miſrepre⯑ſented by the noble Writer: as it lies in [86] ARISTOTLE, it is rational and conſiſtent; as it is taken up by his Lordſhip, it is chi⯑merical and groundleſs.

IT might have been difficult to aſſign a Reaſon, why the noble Writer ſhould have attempted to eſtabliſh this two-fold Method of Proof, had not he explained his Intention in another Place. He there^d wiſely re⯑commends the old ſcholaſtic Manner to the Clergy, as being moſt ſuitable to their Abi⯑lities and Character: The Way of Ridicule he appropriates to the Men of Taſte and Breeding; declaring it ought to be kept ſacred from the impure Touch of an Eccle⯑ſiaſtic. For as Clubs and Cudgels have long been appropriated to Porters and Footmen, while every Gentleman is ambitious to un⯑derſtand a Sword; ſo the clumſy Way of Argumentation is only fit for Prieſts and Pedants, but pointed Wit is the Weapon for the Man of Faſhion: This decides a Quarrel handſomely. The pretty Fellow is at your Vitals in a Moment; while the Pedant keeps labouring at it for an Hour together, and neither gets nor gives ſo much as a broken Bone.

[87] BUT ſtill higher is the noble Writer's Idea of Wit and Ridicule: While he ap⯑plies it not only to Conqueſt, but Inveſtiga⯑tion: And we muſt own, it was an At⯑tempt worthy of his Genius, to eſtabliſh this new and expeditious Method of Search and Conviction. In which, by the ſole Ap⯑plication of ſo cheap and portable an In⯑ſtrument as that of Raillery, a Gentleman might obtain the certain Knowledge of the true Proportion of Things, without the te⯑dious and vulgar Methods of Menſuration. In the mean Time, we, whom the noble Author hath ſo often condeſcended to diſ⯑tinguiſh by the honourable Title of For⯑maliſts and Pedants, finding ourſelves inca⯑pable of this ſublime Way of Proof, muſt be content to drudge on in the old and beaten Track of Reaſoning. And after all, 'tis probable this new Attempt will ſucceed no better than the curious Conceit of the learned Taylor in Laputa: Who being employed in making a Suit for the facetious GULLIVER; diſdained the vulgar Meaſures of his Pro⯑feſſion, and took that Gentleman's Altitude by the Help of a Quadrant. This, it muſt be acknowledged, was a Theory no leſs ſublime than our noble Author's: Yet it [88] failed miſerably when applied to Practice: For the ſagacious Traveller informs us, that notwithſtanding the Acuteneſs and Pene⯑tration of the Artiſt, his cloaths were wretchedly ill made.

SECTION X.

WE have now obviated every thing ma⯑terial, that the noble Writer hath advanced in Support of his new Syſtem. But as one of his moſt zealous Followers hath under⯑taken in Form to explain and defend his Notions on this Subject^e, it may be proper to examine how far this Gentleman's Ar⯑gument is conſiſtent with Truth.

HE tells us, that ‘"to aſk whether Ridi⯑cule be a Teſt of Truth, is in other Words to aſk, whether that which is ri⯑diculous can be morally true, can be juſt and becoming; or whether that which is juſt and becoming, can be ridiculous."’

HERE, as the Foundation of all, we ſee the ſame Kind of Ambiguity lurking, as was obſerved in the noble Writer, in the Paſ⯑ſage already remarked on^f. For if by ‘"that [89] which is ridiculous,"’ he means that which is really ridiculous, it is allowed this can ne⯑ver be morally true: But this is ſo far from proving Ridicule to be a Teſt of Truth, that it implies the contrary: It implies ſome further Power, which may be able to diſ⯑tinguiſh what is really ridiculous, from what is only apparently ſo. On the contrary, if by ‘"that which is ridiculous,"’ he means that which is apparently ridiculous, it may be affirmed, this may be morally true: Be⯑cauſe Imagination and Paſſion often take up with Fictions inſtead of Realities, and can never of themſelves diſtinguiſh them from each other. He tells us his Queſtion ‘"does not deſerve a ſerious Anſwer."’ At leaſt it wanted an Explanation.

THE Gentleman proceeds: ‘"For it is moſt evident, that as in a metaphyſical Propoſition offered to the Underſtanding for its Aſſent, the Faculty of Reaſon exa⯑mines the Terms of the Propoſition, and finding one Idea which was ſuppoſed equal to another, to be in Fact unequal, of Conſequence rejects the Propoſition as a Falſehood: So in Objects offered to the Mind for its Eſteem or Applauſe, the Faculty of Ridicule feeling an Incongruity in [90] the Claim, urges the Mind to reject it with Laughter and Contempt."’

HERE the Faculty of Reaſon is excluded from the Examination of moral Truths, and a new Faculty, never before heard of, the Faculty of Ridicule, is ſubſtituted in its Place. Now, when a Stranger is introduced into good Company, and ſure theſe can be no better than the Public, it is uſual not only to tell his Name, but what he is, and what his Character: This, the Gentleman hath not condeſcended to do: 'Tis true, in a preceding Page he tells us, that ‘"the Senſa⯑tion of Ridicule is not a bare Perception of the Agreement or Diſagreement of Ideas; but a Paſſion or Emotion of the Mind, conſequential to that Perception."’ In another Place he expreſly calls it ‘"a gay Contempt."’ Now, if the Faculty of Ri⯑dicule be the ſame as the Senſation of Ridi⯑cule, or a gay Contempt, then by ſubſtituting the plain old Term of Contempt, inſtead of the Faculty of Ridicule, we ſhall clearly ſee what the above cited Paſſage contains. ‘"As in a metaphyſical Propoſition, the Fa⯑culty of Reaſon examines the Terms, and rejects the Falſehood; ſo in Objects of⯑fered to the Mind for its Eſteem and Ap⯑plauſe, [91] the Paſſion of Contempt feeling an Incongruity in the Claim, urges the Mind to reject it with Laughter and CON⯑TEMPT!"’—Why was not honeſt Reaſon admitted of the Council, and ſet on the Seat of Judgment, which of right belongs to her? The Affair would then have ſtood thus: ‘"As in a metaphyſical Propoſition, the Faculty of Reaſon examines the Terms, and rejects the Falſehood; ſo in Objects offered to the Mind for its Eſteem or Applauſe, the ſame Faculty of Reaſon finding an Incongruity in the Claim, urges the Mind to reject it with Contempt and Laughter."’ This would have been Senſe and Argument; but then it had not been Characteriſtical.

WE ſhall now clearly diſcover the Diſ⯑tinction that is to be made on the following Paſſage: ‘"And thus a double Advantage is gained: For we both detect the moral Falſehood ſooner than in the Way of ſpe⯑culative Enquiry, and impreſs the Minds of Men with a ſtronger Senſe of the Va⯑nity and Error of its Authors^g."’—Here 'tis evident, that the Deſign ‘"of detecting the moral Falſehood ſooner than in the [92] Way of ſpeculative Enquiry"’ is an ab⯑ſurd Attempt: But that ‘"to impreſs the Minds of Men with a ſtronger Senſe of the Vanity and Error of its Authors,"’ when Reaſon hath made the proper Search, is both a practicable and a rational Inten⯑tion.

‘"BUT it is ſaid, continues he, that the Practice is dangerous, and may be incon⯑ſiſtent with the Regard we owe to Ob⯑jects of real Dignity and Excellence^h."’ Yet this is but a ſecondary Objection: The principal one is, that the Attempt is abſurd. However, the Circumſtance of Danger is not without its Weight: Nor is the Gen⯑tleman's reply at all ſufficient—‘"that the Practice fairly managed can never be dan⯑gerous."’ For though Men are not diſ⯑honeſt in obtruding falſe Circumſtances upon us, we may be ſo weak as to obtrude them upon ourſelves. Nay, it can hardly be otherwiſe, if, inſtead of exerting our Rea⯑ſon to correct the Suggeſtions of Fancy and Paſſion, we give them an unlimited Range, and acquieſce in their partial or groundleſs Repreſentations, without calling in Reaſon to decide upon their Truth or Falſehood. [93] By this means we ſhall often ‘"view Ob⯑jects of real Dignity and Excellence,"’ in ſuch Shapes and Colours as are foreign to their Nature; and then ſit down and laugh moſt profoundly at the Phantoms of our own creating.

BUT ſtill he inſiſts, that though falſe Cir⯑cumſtances be impoſed upon us, yet ‘"the Senſe of Ridicule always judges right,"’ or in more vulgar Terms, ‘"The Paſſion of Contempt always judges right."’ Whereas, in Truth, it never judges at all; being equal⯑ly excited by Objects real or imaginary that preſent themſelves.

OBSERVE therefore what a Number of new Phraſes and blind Guides this of Ridi⯑cule, if once admitted, would bring in upon us, and all on equal Authority. For with the ſame Reaſon, as the Paſſion of Contempt is ſtyled the Senſe of Ridicule, the Paſſion of Fear may be called the Senſe of Danger, and Anger the Senſe of Injury. But who hath ever dreamt of exalting theſe Paſſions into ſo many Teſts of the Reality of their reſpective Objects? The Deſign muſt have been re⯑jected as abſurd, becauſe it is the Province of Reaſon alone, to correct the blind Sal⯑lies of every Paſſion, and fix it on its proper [94] Object. Now, the Scheme of Ridicule is of the ſame Nature. It propoſes the Paſ⯑ſion of Contempt as the Teſt of moral Falſehood, which, from the very Terms, appears to be a Project full as wiſe, as to make Fear the Teſt of Danger, or Anger the Teſt of Injury.

THE Gentleman proceeds next to the Caſe of SOCRATES. He owns ‘"the SO⯑CRATES of ARISTOPHANES is as truly ri⯑diculous a Character as ever was drawn: But it is not the Character of SOCRATES, the divine Moraliſt and Father of ancient Wiſdom."’—No indeed: and here lay the Wickedneſs of the Poet's Intention, and the Danger of his Art: in impoſing Fictions for Realities on the miſled Multitude; and put⯑ting a Fool's Coat on the Father of ancient Wiſdom. 'Tis true, the People laughed at the ridiculous Sophiſt; but when the ridicu⯑lous Sophiſt came to drink the Poiſon, what think you became of the Father of ancient Wiſdom?

BUT then he tells us, that as the comic Poet introduced foreign Circumſtances into the Character of SOCRATES, and built his Ridicule upon theſe; ‘"So has the Reaſon⯑ing of SPINOZA made many Atheiſts; [95] he has founded it indeed on Suppoſitions utterly falſe, but allow him theſe, and his Concluſions are unavoidably true. And if we muſt reject the Uſe of Ridicule, becauſe, by the Impoſition of falſe Cir⯑cumſtances, things may be made to ſeem ridiculous, which are not ſo in them⯑ſelves; why we ought not to reject the Uſe of Reaſon, becauſe, by proceeding on falſe Principles, Concluſions will appear true which are impoſſible in Nature, let the vehement and obſtinate Declaimers againſt Ridicule determineⁱ."’

BUT why ſo much Indignation againſt Declaimers in one who writes in Defence of Ridicule, a Species of Declamation? Then as to rejecting the Uſe of Ridicule, a very material Diſtinction is to be made: As a Mode of Eloquence nobody attempts totally to reject it, while it remains under the Do⯑minion of Reaſon: But as a Teſt of Truth, I hope the Reader hath ſeen ſufficient Rea⯑ſon totally to reject it.

NEITHER will the Parallel by any means hold good, which the Gentleman hath at⯑tempted to draw between the Abuſe of Ri⯑dicule and Reaſon. Becauſe the Imagina⯑tion, [96] to which the Way of Ridicule applies, is apt to form to itſelf innumerable fictitious Reſemblances of Things which tend to con⯑found Truth with Falſehood: Whereas the natural Tendency of Reaſon is to ſeparate theſe apparent Reſemblances, and determine which are the real, and which the fictitious. Although therefore SPINOZA hath advanced many Falſehoods in the Way of ſpeculative Affirmation, and founded his Reaſonings on theſe, yet ſtill Reaſon will be her own Cor⯑rectreſs, and eaſily diſcover the Cheat. But if the Imagination be impreſſed with falſe Appearances, and the Paſſion of Contempt ſtrongly excited, neither the Imagination nor the Paſſion can ever correct themſelves; but muſt inevitably be miſled, unleſs Reaſon be called in to rectify the Miſtake, and bring back the Paſſion to its proper Channel.

NAY, ſo far is the Uſe of Ridicule, when prior to rational Conviction, from being par⯑allel to Reaſon, or co-operative with it; that, on the contrary, it hath a ſtrong Ten⯑dency to prevent the Efforts of Reaſon, and to confound its Operations. It is not pre⯑tended that human Reaſon, though the ul⯑timate, is yet in all Caſes an adequate Teſt of Truth: It is always fallible, often errone⯑ous: [97] But it would be much leſs erroneous, were every Mode of Eloquence, and Ridi⯑cule above all others, kept remote from its Operations; were no Paſſion ſuffered to blend itſelf with the Reſearches of the Mind. For Ridicule, working on the Ima⯑gination and Paſſions, diſpoſes the Mind to receive and acquieſce in any Opinion with⯑out its proper Evidence. Hence Preju⯑dice ariſes; and the Mind, which ſhould be free to examine and weigh thoſe real Cir⯑cumſtances which PROVE SOCRATES to be indeed a divine Philoſopher, is drawn by the prior Suggeſtions of Ridicule to receive and acquieſce in thoſe falſe Circumſtances, which PAINT him as a contemptible Sophiſt.

TO conclude: 'Tis no difficult Matter to point out the Foundation of this Gentle⯑man's Errors concerning Ridicule. They have ariſen ſolely from his miſtaking the Paſſion of Contempt for a judicial Faculty: Hence all thoſe new-fangled Expreſſions of—‘"the Faculty of Ridicule"—"the Senſe of Ridicule"—and "the feeling of the Ridiculous:"’ In the Uſe of which he ſeems to have impoſed upon himſelf new Phraſes for Realities, and Words for Things. I cannot better illuſtrate this Remark, than [98] by tranſcribing a Paſſage from the incom⯑parable LOCKE.—‘"Another great Abuſe of Words is, the taking them for Things. To this Abuſe Men are moſt ſubject, who confine their Thoughts to any one Syſtem, and give themſelves up to the firm Belief of the Perfection of any re⯑ceived Hypotheſis; whereby they come to be perſuaded, that the Terms of that Sect are ſo ſuited to the Nature of Things, that they perfectly correſpond with their real Exiſtence. Who is there that has been bred up in the Peripatetic Philoſo⯑phy, who does not think the ten Names, under which are ranked the ten Predica⯑ments, to be exactly conformable to the Nature of Things? Who is there of that School, that is not perſuaded, that ſub⯑ſtantial Forms, vegetative Souls, Abhorrence of a Vacuum, intentional Species, etc. are ſomething real?"—"There is ſcarce any Sect in Philoſophy has not a diſtinct Set of Terms that others underſtand not. But yet this Gibberiſh, which, in the Weakneſs of human Underſtanding, ſerves ſo well to palliate Men's Ignorance, and cover their Errors, comes by familiar Uſe amongſt thoſe of the ſame Tribe, to ſeem [99] the moſt important Part of Language, and of all other the Terms the moſt ſignifi⯑cant^k."’ And now to ſave the Trouble of Repetition, the Reader is left to deter⯑mine how far ‘"the Faculty of Ridicule feeling the Incongruity"’—and ‘"the Senſe of Ridicule always judging right"’—may with Propriety be placed among the learned Gibberiſh above-mentioned.

'TIS ſtrange this Gentleman ſhould have erred ſo widely in ſo plain a Subject; when we conſider, that he hath accidentally thrown out a Thought, which, if purſued, would have led him to a full View of the Point debated: ‘"The Senſation of Ridi⯑cule is not a bare Perception of the Agree⯑ment or Diſagreement of Ideas; but a Paſſion or Emotion of the Mind conſe⯑quential to that Perception ^l."’

SECTION XI.

TO return therefore to the noble Wri⯑ter. As it is evident, that Ridicule cannot in general without Abſurdity be applied as a Teſt of Truth; ſo can it leaſt of all be [100] admitted in examining Religious Opinions, in the Diſcuſſion of which, his Lordſhip ſeems principally to recommend it. Becauſe, by inſpiring the contending Parties with mutual Contempt, it hath a violent Tendency to de⯑ſtroy mutual Charity, and therefore to pre⯑vent mutual Conviction.

TO illuſtrate this Truth, let us conſider the following Inſtance, which ſeems clear and full to the Point.

THERE is not perhaps in any Language a bolder or ſtronger Ridicule, than the well⯑known Apologue of The Tale of a Tub. Its manifeſt Deſign is to recommend the Eng⯑liſh Church, and to diſgrace the two Extremes of Popery and Puritaniſm ^m. Now, if we [101] conſider this exquiſite Piece of Raillery as a Teſt of Truth, we ſhall find it impotent and vain: For the Queſtion ſtill recurs, whether MARTIN be a juſt Emblem of the Engliſh, Jack of the Scotch, or Peter of the Roman Church. All the Points in Debate between the ſeveral Parties are taken for granted in the Repreſentation: And we muſt have Re⯑courſe to Argument, and to that alone, ere we can determine the Merits of the Que⯑ſtion.

IF we next conſider this Maſter-piece of Wit as a Mode of Eloquence, we ſhall find it indeed of great Efficacy in confirm⯑ing every Member of the Church of England in his own Communion, and in giving him a thorough Diſtaſte of thoſe of Scotland and Rome: And ſo far as this may be regarded as a Matter of public Utility, ſo far the Ri⯑dicule may be laudable.

BUT if we extend our Views ſo as to comprehend a larger Plan of moral Uſe; we ſhall find this Method of Perſuaſion is ſuch, as Charity can hardly approve of: For by repreſenting the one of theſe Churches un⯑der the Character of Craft and Knavery, the other under that of incurable Madneſs, it muſt needs tend to inſpire every Member [102] of the Engliſh Church who believes the Re⯑preſentation, with ſuch Hatred of the one, and Contempt of the other, as to prevent all friendly Debate and rational Remonſtrance.

ITS effect on thoſe who hold the Do⯑ctrines of CALVIN, or of Rome, muſt be yet worſe: Unleſs it can be proved, that the Way to attract the Love, and convince the Reaſon of Mankind, is to ſhew that we hate or deſpiſe them. While they revere what we deride, 'tis plain, we cannot both view the Subject in the ſame Light: And though we deride what appears to us con⯑temptible, we deride what to them appears ſacred. They will therefore accuſe us of miſrepreſenting their Opinions, and abhor us as unjuſt and impious.

THUS although this noted Apologue be indeed a Vindication of our Engliſh Church, yet it is ſuch as had been better ſpared: Be⯑cauſe its natural Effect is to create Preju⯑dice, and inſpire the contending Parties with mutual Diſtaſte, Contempt, and Hatred.

BUT if the Way of Ridicule is thus wholly to be rejected in treating every con⯑troverted Subject; it will probably be aſked, ‘"Where then is it to be applied? Whether it is reaſonable to calumniate and blacken [103] it without Diſtinction? And whether it is not Impiety, thus to vilify the Gifts of our Maker?"’

AND 'tis certain, that to do this, were ab⯑ſurd and impious. As on the other hand, there is an equal Abſurdity and Impiety in confounding that Order of Things which the Creator hath eſtabliſhed, and endeavour⯑ing to raiſe a blind Paſſion into the Throne of Reaſon. One Party or other in this Debate hath certainly incurred the Cenſure: The Cenſure is ſevere, and let it fall where it is deſerved. I know none that endeavour to vilify and blacken Ridicule without Diſ⯑tinction, unleſs when it preſumes to elevate itſelf into a Teſt of Truth: And then, as a Rebel to the Order and Conſtitution of Na⯑ture, it ought to be reſolutely encountered and repelled, till it take Refuge in its own inferior Station.

THE proper Uſe of Ridicule therefore is, ‘"to diſgrace known Falſehood:"’ And thus, negatively at leaſt, ‘"to enforce known Truth."’ Yet this can only be affirmed of certain Kinds of Falſehood or Incon⯑gruity, to which we ſeem to have appro⯑priated the general Name of Folly: And among the ſeveral Branches of this, chiefly [104] I think, to AFFECTATION. For as every Affectation ariſes from a falſe Pretence to Praiſe, ſo a Contempt incurred tends to con⯑vince the Claimant of his Error, and thus becomes the natural Remedy to the Evil.

MUCH more might be ſaid on this Head. We might run through numerous Diviſions and Subdiviſions of Folly: But as the Taſk would be both inſignificant and endleſs, I am unwilling to trouble the Reader with ſuch elaborate Trifles.

IT ſeems an Obſervation more worthy of our Attention and Regard; that Contempt, whence Ridicule ariſes, being a ſelfiſh Paſſion, and nearly allied to Pride, if not abſolutely founded on it; we ought ever to keep a ſtrict Rein, and in general rather curb than forward its Emotions. Is there a more im⯑portant Maxim in Philoſophy than this, that we ſhould gain a Habit of controuling our Imaginations and Paſſions by the Uſe of Reaſon? Eſpecially thoſe that are rather of the ſelfiſh than the benevolent Kind? That we ſhould not ſuffer our Fears to ſink us in Cowardice, our Joys in Weakneſs, our An⯑ger in Revenge? And ſure there is not a Paſſion that infeſts human Life, whoſe Con⯑ſequences are ſo generally pernicious as thoſe [105] of indulged Contempt. As the common Occurrences of Life are the Objects which afford it Nouriſhment, ſo by this means it is kept more conſtantly in Play, than any other Affection of the Mind: And is indeed the general Inſtrument by which Individuals, Families, Sects, Provinces, and Nations, are driven from a State of mutual Charity, into that of Bitterneſs and Diſſention. We pro⯑ceed from Raillery to Railing; from Con⯑tempt to Hatred. Thus if the Love of Ri⯑dicule be not in itſelf a Paſſion of the male⯑volent Species, it leads at leaſt to thoſe which are ſo. Add to this, that the moſt ignorant are generally the moſt contemptu⯑ous; and they the moſt forward to deride, who are moſt incapable or moſt unwilling to underſtand. Narrow Conceptions of Things lead to groundleſs Deriſion: And this Spirit of Scorn in its Turn, as it cuts us off from all Information, confirms us in our preconceived and groundleſs Opinions.

THIS being the real Nature and Ten⯑dency of Ridicule, it cannot be worth while to deſcant much on its Application, or ex⯑plore its Subſerviency to the Uſes of Liſe. For though under the ſevere Reſtrictions of Reaſon, it may be made a proper Inſtru⯑ment [106] on many Occaſions, for diſgracing known Folly; yet the Turn of Levity it gives the Mind, the Diſtaſte it raiſes to all candid and rational Information, the Spirit of Ani⯑moſity it is apt to excite, the Errors in which it confirms us when its Suggeſtions are falſe, the Extremes to which it is apt to drive us, even when its Suggeſtions are true; all theſe conſpire to tell us, it is rather to be wiſhed than hoped, that its Influence upon the whole can be conſiderable in the Service of Wiſdom and Virtue.

LORD SHAFTESBURY himſelf, in many other Parts of his Book, ſtrongly inſiſts on the Neceſſity of bringing the Imagination and Paſſions under the Dominion of Rea⯑ſon. ‘"The only Poiſon to Reaſon, ſays he, is Paſſion: For falſe Reaſoning is ſoon redreſſed, where Paſſion is removedⁿ."’ And it is difficult to aſſign any Cauſe that will not reflect ſome Diſhonour on the no⯑ble Writer, why he ſhould thus ſtrangely have attempted to privilege this Paſſion of Contempt from ſo neceſſary a Subjection. Let it ſuffice, in Concluſion, to obſerve; that Inconſiſtencies muſt ever ariſe and be perſiſted in, when a roving Fancy, con⯑ducted [107] by Spleen and Affectation, goes in Queſt of idle Novelties, without ſubjecting itſelf to the juſt Reſtraints of Reaſon.

UPON the whole: This new Deſign of diſcovering Truth by the vague and un⯑ſteady Light of Ridicule, puts one in Mind of the honeſt Iriſhman, who applied his Candle to the Sun-Dial, in order to ſee how the Night went.

HAVING conſidered the noble Wri⯑ter's two firſt Treatiſes, ſo far as they regard the Uſe of Ridicule, we now come to his Soliloquy, or Advice to an Author. And here, bating only a few accidental Paſſages, which will be occaſionally pointed out here⯑after, we ſhall have little more to do, than to approve and admire: The whole Diſſer⯑tation being, in its general Turn, one con⯑tinued [110] Inſtance of its Author's Knowledge and refined Taſte in Books, Life, and Man⯑ners. I could dwell with Pleaſure on the Beauties of this Work, if indeed they needed an Explanation: But that noble Union of Truth and Eloquence which ſhines through the whole, as it ſuperſedes, ſo it would diſ⯑grace any Attempt of this Kind. To the Work itſelf therefore I recommend the Reader.

THE noble Writer having thus prepared us for the Depths of Philoſophy, by enjoin⯑ing an unfeigned and rigorous Self-Exami⯑nation; proceeds to that higheſt and moſt intereſting of all Subjects, The Obligations of Man to the Practice of Virtue. And here it will probably appear, that with a Variety of uſeful Truths, he hath blended ſeveral plauſible Miſtakes, which, when more near⯑ly viewed, ſeem to be attended with a Train of very extraordinary Conſequences. What he hath given us on this Subject, lies chiefly in the two Treatiſes, which compoſe his ſe⯑cond Volume: But as he frequently refers us to the other Parts of his Writings, where he hath accidentally treated the ſame Points in a more explicit Manner; ſo the ſame Liberty of comparing one Paſſage with an⯑ther, [111] will, I apprehend, be judged reaſona⯑ble by the candid Reader. Thus we ſhall more effectually penetrate into his true Scope and Intention; and draw off, as far as may be, that Veil of Myſtery, in which, for Reaſons beſt known to himſelf, he hath ſo often wrapped his Opinions.

SECTION II.

'TIS no uncommon Circumſtance in Controverſy, for the Parties to engage in all the Fury of Diſputation, without preciſely inſtructing their Readers, or truly knowing themſelves, the Particulars about which they differ. Hence that fruitleſs Parade of Ar⯑gument, and thoſe oppoſite Pretences to Demonſtration, with which moſt Debates, on every Subject, have been infeſted. Would the contending Parties firſt be ſure of their own Meaning (a Species of Self-Examination which, I think, the noble Writer hath not condeſcended to mention) and then communicate their Senſe to others in plain Terms and Simplicity of Heart, the Face of Controverſy would ſoon be changed: And real Knowledge, inſtead of imaginary Conqueſt, would be the noble Reward of literary Toil.

[190] IN the mean Time, a Hiſtory of Logo⯑machies ^o well executed, would be no unedi⯑fying Work. And in order to open a Path to ſo uſeful an Undertaking, I will venture to give the preſent Section as an Introduction to it: For ſure, among all the Queſtions which have exerciſed the Learned, this con⯑cerning the Obligations of Man to Virtue hath given Riſe to the greateſt Profuſion of looſe Talk and ambiguous Expreſſion. The Ar⯑gument hath been handled by ſeveral of great Name: And it might poſſibly be deemed Preſumption to differ from any of them, had they not ſo widely differed among themſelves. Much hath been ſaid, and various have been their Opinions con⯑cerning our Obligations to Virtue; but lit⯑tle hath been ſaid in any definitive Man⯑ner, on the previous and fundamental Queſtion, What Virtue is. By which I do not mean, what Actions are called Virtuous, for, about that, Mankind are pretty well agreed, but, what makes Virtue to be what it is. And till we have determined this with all poſſible Preciſion, we cannot de⯑termine ‘"upon what Foundation Man⯑kind [113] are obliged to the Practice of it."’ Our firſt Enquiry therefore muſt be, con⯑cerning the Nature of Virtue: In the In⯑veſtigation of which, the Moraliſts of moſt Ages ſeem to have been remarkably de⯑fective.

LET us firſt conſider what our noble Au⯑thor hath ſaid on this Subject. He tells us, ‘"The Mind cannot be without its Eye and Ear; ſo as to diſcern Proportion, diſ⯑tinguiſh Sound, and ſcan each Sentiment and Thought which comes before it. It can let nothing eſcape its Cenſure. It feels the ſoft and harſh, the agreeable and diſagreeable in the Affections; and finds a foul and fair, an harmonious and a diſſonant, as really and truly here, as in any muſical Numbers, or in the outward Forms and Repreſentations of ſenſible Things. Nor can it withold its Admi⯑ration and Extaſy, its Averſion and Scorn, any more in what relates to one, than to the other of theſe Subjects. So that to deny the common natural Senſe of a ſublime and beautiful in Things, will ap⯑pear an Affectation merely to any one who conſiders duly of this Affair^p."’ The [114] Perception of this Beauty he calls the moral Senſe or Taſte; and affirms, that Virtue con⯑ſiſts in ‘"a perfect Conformity of our Af⯑fections and Actions with this ſupreme Senſe and Symmetry of Things."’ Or, to uſe his own Words, ‘"The Nature of Virtue conſiſts in a certain juſt Diſpoſition or proportionable Affection of a rational Creature towards the moral Objects of Right and Wrong ^q."’

THE next Writer I ſhall mention is the learned and amiable Dr. CLARKE. He thinks it neceſſary to reject this Idea of Vir⯑tue, which the noble Writer had eſtabliſh⯑ed; and as a ſurer Foundation, than what mere Affection, Senſe, or Taſte could pro⯑duce, lays the Baſis of Virtue in Reaſon: And inſiſts, that its true Nature lies in ‘"a Conformity of our Actions, with certain eternal and immutable Relations and Dif⯑ferences of Things. That from theſe, which are neceſſarily perceived by every rational Agent, there naturally ariſe cer⯑tain moral Obligations, which are of them⯑ſelves incumbent on all, antecedent to all poſitive Inſtitution, and to all Expectation of Reward or Puniſhment^r."’

[115] AFTER theſe, comes an ingenious and candid Writer, and in Oppoſition to both theſe Schemes of Moral, fixes the Nature of Virtue in ‘"a Conformity of our Actions with Truth."’ He affirms, that ‘"no Act, whether Word or Deed, of any Being, to whom moral Good and Evil are im⯑putable, that interferes with any true Pro⯑poſition, or denies any thing to be as it is, can be right. That, on the contrary, every Act is right which does not contra⯑dict Truth, but treats every thing as being what it is^s."’

There are, beſides theſe, ſeveral other philoſophical Opinions concerning the Na⯑ture of Virtue: as, that it conſiſts in fol⯑lowing Nature—in avoiding all Extremes—in the Imitation of the Deity. But theſe are ſtill more looſe and indeterminate Ex⯑preſſions, if poſſible, than the former. If therefore the firſt ſhould appear vague and ineffectual, the latter muſt of Courſe ſall under an equal Cenſure.

NOW it will appear, that all the three Definitions of Virtue, which Lord SHAFTES⯑BURY, Dr. CLARKE, and Mr. WOLLASTON have given us, in deſigned Oppoſition to [116] each other, are equally defective; ‘"Be⯑cauſe they do not give us any more parti⯑cular or determinate Ideas, than what we have from that ſingle Word, which with ſo much fruitleſs Labour they attempt to define."’

LET us firſt examine the noble Writer's Definition in this View. He ſays, that ‘"Virtue conſiſts in a Conformity of our Af⯑fections with our natural Senſe of the Sublime and Beautiful in Things, or with the moral Objects of Right and Wrong."’—Now, what new Idea do we gain from this pompous Definition? Have we not the ſame general Idea from the Word Virtue, as from the more diffuſed Expreſſion of the Sublime and Beautiful of Things? And can⯑not we gather as much from either of theſe, as from the ſubſequent Phraſe, the moral Objects of Right and Wrong?"—They are all general Names, relative to ſomething which is yet unknown, and which is no more explained by the pretended Definition, than by the Word which is attempted to be defined. Indeed, when his Lordſhip further affirms, that to relieve the Needy, or help the Friendleſs, is an Inſtance of this Sublime and Beautiful of Things, we then [117] obtain a more determinate Idea, with Re⯑gard to that particular Caſe. But ſtill we are as much as ever at a Loſs for a general Criterion or Teſt, by which the Virtue of our other Actions is to be determined. To ſay, therefore, that Virtue conſiſts in acting ac⯑cording to the fair, the handſome, the ſub⯑lime, the beautiful, the decent, the moral Ob⯑jects of Right and Wrong, is really no more than ringing Changes upon Words. We might with equal Propriety affirm, ‘"that Virtue conſiſts in acting virtuouſly."’ This Deficiency Mr. WOLLASTON clearly ſaw. ‘"They, ſays he, who reckon nothing to be (morally) good, but what they call ho⯑neſtum, may denominate Actions accord⯑ing as that is, or is not the Cauſe or End of them: But then, what is honeſtum? Something is ſtill wanting to meaſure Things by, and to ſeparate the honeſta from the inhoneſta ^t."’

DR. CLARKE's Definition ſeems not to include any thing more preciſe or determi⯑nate, than the noble Writer's. He affirms, that ‘"Virtue conſiſts in a Conformity of our Actions with right Reaſon, or the eter⯑nal and immutable Relations and Dif⯑ferences [118] of Things."’ Here then a paral⯑lel Queſtion ariſeth, ‘"What is right Rea⯑ſon, and what theſe eternal Relations which are affirmed, by the learned Writer, to be the Teſt or Criterion of Virtue?"’ And 'tis obſervable, that when he comes to prove the Truth and Reality of theſe Relations, he is forced to reſolve it into a ſelf-evident Pro⯑poſition. ‘"Theſe Things, ſaith he, are ſo notoriouſly plain and ſelf-evident, that no⯑thing but the extremeſt Stupidity of Mind, Corruption of Manners, or Per⯑verſeneſs of Spirit, can poſſibly make any Man entertain the leaſt Doubt concerning them^v."’ Thus too, his ingenious Advo⯑cate, when puſhed by his Adverſary to de⯑clare, whether he perceives the Truth of theſe Relations by Proof or Intuition, con⯑feſſes ‘"they may be looked upon as ſelf-evident ^w."’ Here then we may obſerve a ſtrong Coincidence between the noble Wri⯑ter's Syſtem of Expreſſion, and this of Dr. CLARKE: For as the one affirms, that the Sublime and Beautiful of Things is ſelf-evident, ſo the other affirms the ſame of the Fit and Reaſonable. And as the Sublime and [119] Beautiful give us no more determinate Ideas, than the Virtuous, ſo neither can we obtain any additional Information from the Fit and Reaſonable. We are equally at a Loſs to know what is fit and reaſonable, as to know what is virtuous: Therefore the one can ne⯑ver be an adequate Definition of the other. Here too, Mr. WOLLASTON plainly ſaw the Want of Preciſion. As to thoſe, he ſaith, ‘"who make right Reaſon to be a Law—it is true, that whatever will bear to be tried by right Reaſon, is right; and that which is condemned by it, wrong:—But the Manner in which they have delivered themſelves, is not yet explicit enough. It leaves Room for ſo many Diſputes and oppoſite right Reaſons, that nothing can be ſettled, while every one pretends that his Reaſon is right^x."’

NOW it will doubtleſs appear a Circum⯑ſtance of Singularity, that Mr. WOLLAS⯑TON, who ſaw the eſſential Defects of theſe two Definitions, ſhould himſelf offer a third, which is preciſely liable to the ſame Ob⯑jection. ‘"Virtue, ſaith this learned Wri⯑ter, conſiſts in a Conformity of our Actions with Truth; in treating every [120] thing as being what it is."’ Well: be it ſo. Yet the Queſtion ſtill recurs, what is moral Truth? And this demands a Definition no leſs than Virtue, which was the Thing to be defined. Had Lord SHAFTESBURY lived to ſee this new Theory propoſed, how naturally would he have retorted Mr. WOL⯑LASTON's Objection? ‘"You, Mr. WOL⯑LASTON, reckon nothing to be morally Good, but what you call Truth: And you may indeed denominate Actions, accord⯑ing as that is, or is not, the Cauſe or End of them: But then, what is Truth? Something further is ſtill wanting to mea⯑ſure Things by, and to ſeparate Truth from Falſehood."’—Thus too would Dr. CLARKE have naturally replied: ‘"'Tis true, that whatever will bear to be tried by Truth, is right; and that which is con⯑demned by it, wrong: But the Manner in which you have delivered yourſelf, is not yet explicit enough. You have ra⯑ther confounded my Definition, than gi⯑ven a new one of your own: All that you have added, is an Impropriety of Speech. I ſpeak of the Rectitude of Actions, you of the Truth of Actions; which I call an Impropriety of Speech, [121] becauſe Truth relates to Affirmations, not to Actions; to what is ſaid, not to what is done. But ſuppoſing the Propriety of your Expreſſion, what further Criterion have you gained? You confeſs, that Truth is diſcovered by Reaſon only; for you ſay, that to deny Things to be as they are, is the Tranſgreſſion of the great Law of our Nature, the Law of Reaſon ^y. If ſo, then Reaſon is as good a Guide as Truth: We can as certainly know what is right Reaſon, as what is Truth. If therefore my Definition is defective, yours muſt be ſo too. If mine leaves Room for ſo many Diſputes and oppoſite right Reaſons, that nothing can be ſettled, while every one pretends that this Reaſon is right; yours muſt of Neceſſity be liable to the ſame Objection, muſt leave Room for ſo many Diſputes and oppoſite Truths, that nothing can be ſettled, while every one pretends that his Idea of Truth is the right one. Truth, then, can never be a better Cri⯑terion than Reaſon, becauſe our Idea of Truth muſt always depend upon our Reaſon."’

[122] THUS it ſhould ſeem, that our three ce⯑lebrated Writers have not given the Satif⯑faction which might have been expected in an Affair of ſuch philoſophical Importance. Their common Attempt is to define the Nature, or fix the Criterion of Virtue: To this End, the firſt affirms, it conſiſts in a a Conformity of our Actions to the Fair and Handſome, the Sublime and Beautiful of Things: The Second, the Fitneſs, Reaſons, and Relations of Things: The Third, the Truth of Things. But inaſmuch as theſe general Terms of Beauty, Fitneſs, Truth, convey not any more determinate Idea, than that of Virtue, which they are brought to define; the ſeveral pretended Definitions are therefore inadequate and defective ^z.

[123] WHAT then is Virtue? Let us conſider its true Nature in the following Section.

SECTION III.

THERE are few among Mankind, who have not been often ſtruck with Admi⯑ration at the Sight of that Variety of Co⯑lours and Magnificence of Form, which ap⯑pear in an Evening Rainbow. The un⯑inſtructed in Philoſophy conſider that ſplen⯑did Object, not as dependent on any other, but as being poſſeſſed of a ſelf-given and original Beauty. But he who is led to know, that its Place and Appearance al⯑ways varies with the Situation of the Sun; that when the latter is in his Meridian, the former becomes an inconſiderable Curve ſkirting the Horizon; that as the Sun deſ⯑cends, the Rainbow riſes; till at the Time of his Setting, it encompaſſes the Heavens with a glorious Circle, yet dies away when he diſappears; the Enquirer is then con⯑vinced, that this gay Meteor did but ſhine [124] with a borrowed Splendor, derived from the Influence of that mighty Luminary.

THUS, in like Manner, though the Beau⯑ty, Fitneſs, Truth, or VIRTUE, of all thoſe Actions which we term morally Good, ſeem at firſt View to reſide in the ſeveral Actions, in an original and independent Manner; yet on a nearer Scrutiny we ſhall find, that, properly ſpeaking, their Nature ariſeth from their Ends and Conſequences; that as theſe vary, the Nature of the ſeveral Actions varies with them; that from theſe alone, Actions gain their Splendor, are denomi⯑nated morally Good, and give us the Ideas of Beauty, Fitneſs, Truth, or Virtue.

THE firſt Proofs in Support of this Opinion ſhall be drawn from thoſe very Writers who moſt zealouſly oppoſe it. And here 'tis firſt remarkable, that ‘"while they attempt, to fix their ſeveral Criterions of abſolute, independent Beauty, Fitneſs, and Truth; they are obliged to admit Exceptions, which effectually deſtroy what they deſign to eſtabliſh."’ The follow⯑ing Inſtance, from one of theſe celebrated Writers, is equally applicable to the other two.

[125] MR. WOLLASTON ſpeaks in the following Manner: ‘"To talk to a Poſt, or otherwiſe treat it as if it was a Man, would ſurely be reckoned an Abſurdity, if not Diſ⯑traction. Why? Becauſe this is to treat it as being what it is not. And why ſhould not the converſe be reckoned as bad; that is, to treat a Man as a Poſt? As if he had no Senſe, and felt not In⯑juries which he doth feel; as if to him Pain and Sorrow were not Pain; Happi⯑neſs not Happineſs^a."’ Now, you ſee that on his Scheme of abſolute irrelative Truth, the Abſurdity of talking to a Poſt is preciſely of the ſame Nature with that of injuring a Man: For in both Caſes, we treat the Poſt and the Man, as being what they are not. Conſequently, on this Philo⯑phy, if it be morally Evil to injure a Man, 'tis likewiſe morally Evil to talk to a Poſt. Not that I ſuppoſe Mr. WOLLASTON would have maintained this Conſequence. He knew that the Firſt of theſe Abſurdities would only deſerve the Name of Folly; that the latter, of a Crime. As therefore he allows that Truth is equally violated in either Caſe; as there is ſomething highly [126] immoral in the one, and nothing immoral in the other, here is an Exception which over⯑turns his Principle: which proves that the Morality or Immorality of Actions depends on ſomething diſtinct from mere abſtract, irrelative Truth.

THE ſame Exception muſt be admitted on Dr. CLARKE's Syſtem of Expreſſion. For ſure, 'tis neither fit nor reaſonable, nor agreeable to the Relations of Things, that a Man ſhould talk to a Poſt. Yet, although it be admitted as irrational and abſurd, I do not imagine, any of Dr. CLARKE's De⯑fenders would ſay it was immoral. So again, with regard to Lord SHAFTESBURY, 'tis clear there can be nothing of the Sublime or Beautiful in this Action of talking to a Poſt: On the contrary, there is (to uſe his own Manner of Expreſſion) an apparent Indecency, Impropriety, and Diſſonance in it. Yet, although his Admirers might juſtly denominate it incongruous, they would ſurely be far from branding it as vile. Here then the ſame Exception again takes place, which demonſtrates that Virtue can⯑not conſiſt either in abſtract Fitneſs or Beauty; but that ſomething further is re⯑quired in order to conſtitute its Nature.

[127] POSSIBLY therefore, the Patrons of theſe ſeveral Theories may alledge, that Actions which relate to inanimate Beings only, can properly be called no more than naturally beautiful, fit, or true: But that moral Fit⯑neſs, Beauty, or Truth, can only ariſe from ſuch Actions as relate to Beings that are ſenſible or intelligent. Mr. BALGUY ex⯑preſly makes this Exception: He affirms, that ‘"moral Actions are ſuch as are know⯑ingly directed towards ſome Object intel⯑ligent or ſenſible^b."’

AND ſo far indeed this Refinement ap⯑proaches towards the Truth, as it excludes all inanimate Things from being the Ob⯑jects of moral Good and Evil. Yet even this Idea of moral Beauty, Fitneſs, or Truth, is highly indeterminate and defective: Be⯑cauſe innumerable Inſtances may be given, of Actions directed towards Objects ſenſible and intelligent, ſome of which Actions are manifeſtly becoming, fit, or true, others as manifeſtly incongruous, irrational, and falſe, yet none of them, in any Degree, virtuous or vicious, meritorious or immoral. Thus to ſpeak to a Man in a Language he under⯑ſtands, is an Action becoming, fit, or true; [128] 'tis treating him according to the Order, Relations, and Truth of Things; 'tis treat⯑ing him according to what he is. On the contrary, to ſpeak to him in a Language he underſtands not, is an Action neither be⯑coming, fit, nor true; 'tis treating him ac⯑cording to what he is not; 'tis treating him as a Poſt. But although the firſt of theſe Actions be undeniably becoming, fit, or true, who will call it Virtue? And though the latter be undeniably incongruous, irra⯑tional, and falſe, who will call it Vice? Yet both theſe Actions are directed towards a Being that is ſenſible and intelligent. It follows therefore, that an Action is not either morally Good or Evil, merely becauſe it is conformable to the Beauty, Fitneſs, or Truth of Things, even though it be di⯑rected towards an Object both ſenſible and intelligent; but that ſomething ſtill further, ſome more diſtinguiſhing and characteriſtic Circumſtance is neceſſary, in order to fix its real Eſſence.

WHAT this peculiar Circumſtance may be, we come now to enquire. And the firſt Lights in this Enquiry ſhall be bor⯑rowed from theſe very celebrated Writers, whom we have here ventured to oppoſe. [129] For ſuch is the Force and Energy of Truth, that while they are attempting to involve her in a Cloud of Metaphyſics, ſhe breaks through the myſtic Veil they had prepared and woven for her with ſo much Art, and diffuſeth a Stream of genuine Luſtre, which the moſt obdurate Prejudice can only with⯑ſtand by winking hard.

AND firſt, though the noble Writer every where attempts to fix an original, indepen⯑dent, moral Beauty of Action, to which every thing is to be referred, and which it⯑ſelf is not to be referred to any thing fur⯑ther^c: Yet when he comes to an Enume⯑ration of thoſe particular Actions, which may be called morally Beautiful, he always ſingles out ſuch as have a direct and neceſ⯑ſary Tendency to the Happineſs of Mankind. Thus he talks of the Notion of a public In⯑tereſt ^d, as neceſſary towards a proper Idea of Virtue: He ſpeaks of public Affection in the ſame Manner; and reckons Generoſity, Kindneſs, and Compaſſion, as the Qualities which alone can render Mankind truly Vir⯑tuous. So again, when he fixes the Bounds of the ſocial Affections, he evidently refers [130] us to the ſame End, of human Happineſs. ‘"If Kindneſs or Love of the moſt natural Sort be immoderate, it is undoubtedly vicious. For thus over-great Tenderneſs deſtroys the Effect of Love; and exceſſive Pity renders us incapable of giving Suc⯑cour^e."’ When he fixes the proper De⯑grees of the private Affections, he draws his Proof from this one Point, ‘"that by having the Self-Paſſions too intenſe or ſtrong, a Creature becomes miſerable^f."’ Laſtly, when he draws a Catalogue of ſuch Affections, as are moſt oppoſite to Beauty and moral Good, he ſelects ‘"Malice, Hatred of Society—Tyranny—Anger—Revenge—Treachery—Ingratitude ^g."’ In all theſe Inſtances, the Reference to human Happi⯑neſs is ſo particular and ſtrong, that from theſe alone an unprejudiced Mind may be convinced, that the Production of human Happineſs is the great univerſal Fountain, whence our Actions derive their moral Beauty.

THUS again, though the excellent Dr. CLARKE attempts to ſix the Nature and Eſſence of Virtue in certain Differences, Relations, and Fitneſſes of Things, to which [131] our Actions ought ultimately to be referred; yet in enumerating the ſeveral Actions which he denominates morally Good, he mentions none, but what evidently promote the ſame great End, ‘"the Happineſs of Man."’ He juſtly ſpeaks of the Welfare of the Whole, as being the neceſſary and moſt important Con⯑ſequence of virtuous Action. He tells us, ‘"that it is more fit that GOD ſhould regard the Good of the whole Creation, than that he ſhould make the Whole continually miſerable: That all Men ſhould endea⯑vour to promote the univerſal Good and Welfare of all; than that all Men ſhould be continually contriving the Ruin and Deſtruction of all^h."’ Here again, the Reference is ſo direct and ſtrong to the Hap⯑pineſs of Mankind, that even from the In⯑ſtances alledged by the worthy Author, it appears, that a Conformity of our Actions to this great End, is the very Eſſence of moral Rectitude.

MR. WOLLASTON is no leſs explicit in this particular: For in every Inſtance he brings, the Happineſs of Man is the ſingle End to which his Rule of Truth verges in an unvaried Manner. Thus in the Paſſage [132] already cited, though he conſiders the talk⯑ing to a Poſt as an Abſurdity, he is far from condemning it as an immoral Action: But in the ſame Paragraph, when he comes to give an Inſtance of the Violation of moral Truth, he immediately has recourſe to Man; and not only ſo, but to the Happineſs of Man. ‘"Why, ſaith he, ſhould not the Converſe be reckoned as bad; that is, to treat a Man as a Poſt; as if he had no Senſe, and felt not Injuries, which he doth feel; as if to him Pain and Sorrow were not Pain; Happineſs not Happineſs."’ At other Times he affirms, that ‘"the Impor⯑tance of the Truths on the one and the other Side ſhould be diligently compared ⁱ."’ And I would gladly know, how one Truth can be more important than another, un⯑leſs upon this Principle, and in Reference to the Production of Happineſs. Himſelf indeed confirms this Interpretation, when he ſpeaks as follows: ‘"The Truth violated in the former Caſe was, B had a Property in that which gave him ſuch a Degree of Happineſs: That violated in the latter was, B had a Property in that which gave him a Happineſs vaſtly ſuperior to the other: [133] The Violation therefore in the latter Caſe was upon this Account a vaſtly greater Violation than in the former^k."’

THESE Evidences may ſeem ſufficient: But that all poſſible Satisfaction may be gi⯑ven in a Circumſtance which is of the greateſt Weight in the preſent Queſtion, theſe further Obſervations may be added.

AS therefore theſe celebrated Writers give no Inſtances of moral Beauty, Fitneſs, or Truth, but what finally relate to the Happineſs of Man; ſo if we appeal to the common Senſe of Mankind, we ſhall ſee that the Idea of Virtue hath never been uni⯑verſally affixed to any Action or Affection of the Mind, unleſs where this Tendency to produce Happineſs was at leaſt apparent. What are all the Black Catalogues of Vice or moral Turpitude, which we read in Hiſtory, or find in the Circle of our own Experience, what are they but ſo many In⯑ſtances of Miſery produced? And what are the fair and amiable Atchievements of Le⯑giſlators, Patriots, and Sages renowned in Story, what but ſo many Efforts to raiſe Mankind from Miſery, and eſtabliſh the public Happineſs on a ſure Foundation? [134] The firſt are vicious, immoral, deformed, be⯑cauſe there we ſee Mankind afflicted or de⯑ſtroyed: The latter are virtuous, right, beautiful, becauſe here we ſee Mankind pre⯑ſerved and aſſiſted.

BUT that Happineſs is the laſt Criterion or Teſt, to which the moral Beauty, Truth, or Rectitude of our Affections is to be re⯑ferred, the two following Circumſtances de⯑monſtrate: Firſt, ‘"thoſe very Affections and Actions, which, in the ordinary Courſe of Things, are approved as virtuous, do change their Nature, and become vicious in the ſtricteſt Senſe, when they contra⯑dict this fundamental Law, of the greateſt public Happineſs."’ Thus, although in ge⯑neral it is a Parent's Duty to prefer a Child's Welfare, to that of another Perſon, yet, if this natural and juſt Affection gain ſuch Strength, as to tempt the Parent to violate the Public for his Child's particular Wel⯑fare; what was before a Duty, by this be⯑comes immoderate and criminal. This the noble Writer hath allowed: ‘"If Kindneſs or Love of the moſt natural Sort be im⯑moderate, it is undoubtly vicious ^l."’ And hence, he ſays, ‘"the Exceſs of motherly [135] Love is owned to be a vicious Fond⯑neſs^m."’ The ſame Variation takes Place with regard to every other Relation between Man and Man. Inſomuch, that the ſupe⯑rior Regards which we owe to our Family, Friends, Fellow-Citizens, and Countrymen—Regards which, in their proper Degree, aſpire to the amiable and high Names of domeſtic Love, Friendſhip, Patriotiſm—when once they deſert and violate the grand Principle of univerſal Happineſs, become a vicious Fondneſs, a mean and odious Parti⯑ality, juſtly ſtigmatized by all, as ignomini⯑ous and unworthy.

SECONDLY, with ſuch uncontrouled Au⯑thority does this great Principle command us; that ‘"Actions which are in their own Nature, moſt ſhocking to every humane Affection loſe at once their moral Deſor⯑mity, when they become ſubſervient to the general Welfare; and aſſume both the Name and the Nature of Virtue."’ For what is more contrary to every gentle and kind Affection that dwells in the hu⯑man Breaſt, than to ſhed the Blood, or de⯑ſtroy the Life of Man? Yet the ruling Prin⯑ciple above-mentioned, can reconcile us [136] even to this. And when the Neceſſity of public Example compels us to make a Sa⯑crifice of this Kind; though we may la⯑ment the Occaſion, we cannot condemn the Fact: So far are we from branding it as Murder, that we approve it as Juſtice: and always defend it on this great Principle alone, that it was neceſſary for the public Good.

THUS it appears, that thoſe Actions which we denominate Virtuous, Beautiful, Fit, or True, have not any abſolute and in⯑dependent, but a relative and reflected Beau⯑ty: And that their Tendency to produce Happineſs is the only Source from whence they derive their Luſtre. Hence therefore we may obtain a juſt and adequate Defi⯑nition of Virtue: Which is no other than ‘"the ⁿ Conformity of our Affections with the [137] public Good:"’ Or ‘"the voluntary Pro⯑duction of the greateſt Happineſs."’

SECTION IV.

IT may poſſibly ſeem ſtrange that ſo much has been thought neceſſary to be op⯑poſed to theſe metaphyſical Refinements con⯑cerning the Nature of Virtue: But in Rea⯑lity, 'tis a Point of the utmoſt Conſequence: For theſe Refinements have given riſe to a plauſible Objection, which hath been re⯑tailed in a popular Manner by a late wordy Writer; whoſe leaſt merit it is to have ſup⯑plied our modiſh Coffee-houſe Philoſophers with ſuch a Variety of faſhionable Topics, that they have never felt the leaſt Want of that antiquated Aſſiſtance derived from Knowledge, Parts, and Learning.

THIS Gentleman, taking Advantage of theſe metaphyſical Refinements, and parti⯑cularly of the noble Writer's imaginary Scheme of abſolute, irrelative Beauty, ‘"the Hunting after which (he elegantly af⯑firms) is not much better than a wild Gooſe Chaſe^o;"’ attempts from hence to demonſtrate, for the Benefit of his Country, [138] that we are utterly miſtaken, when we ‘"look upon Virtue and Vice as permanent Realities, that muſt ever be the ſame in all Countries and all Ages^p:"’ And thus he proſecutes his Argument.

THE Worth or Excellence of every thing, he ſays, varies according to Fancy or Opi⯑nion. ‘"Even in human Creatures, what is beautiful in one Country, is not ſo in another.—Three hundred Years ago, Men were ſhaved as cloſely as they are now; ſince that, they have wore Beards.—How mean and comical a Man looks, that is otherwiſe well-dreſſed, in a narrow-brimed Hat, when every Body wears broad ones: And again, how monſtrous is a very great Hat, when the other Ex⯑treme has been in Faſhion for a conſidera-Time?—The many Ways of laying out a Garden judiciouſly are almoſt innumera⯑ble; and what is called Beautiful in them, varies according to the different Taſte of Nations and Ages^q."’ Thus capricious and uncertain, he tells us, are our Ideas of natural Beauty; and theſe he brings home to the Point of Morals. ‘"In Morals there is no greater Certainty: Plurality of [139] Wives is odious among Chriſtians, and all the Wit and Learning of a great Genius in Defence of it, has been rejected with Contempt. But Polygamy is not ſhock⯑ing to a Mahometan. What Men have learnt from their Infancy enſlaves them, and the Force of Cuſtom warps Nature, and at the ſame Time imitates her in ſuch a Manner, that it is often difficult to know, which of them we are influenced by. In the Eaſt formerly, Siſters mar⯑ried Brothers, and it was meritorious for a Man to marry his Mother. Such Al⯑liances are abominable: But it is certain, that whatever Horror we conceive at the Thoughts of them, there is nothing in Nature repugnant againſt them, but what is built upon Mode and Cuſtom. A re⯑ligious Mahometan may receive as great an Averſion againſt Wine^r."’ Hence, with great Stretch of Reaſoning he concludes, ‘"that Virtue and Vice are not permanent Realities,"’ but vary as other Faſhions, and are ſubject to no other Law, than that of Fancy and Opinion.

AND ſo far indeed, this Gentleman ſeems to have argued juſtly, while he contends [140] that mere Approbation and Diſlike, the mere Idea of Beauty and Deformity, Truth or Rectitude, without Reference to ſome fur⯑ther End, can never conſtitute a real or per⯑manent Foundation of Vice or Virtue. For, as he hath obſerved, there have indeed been conſiderable Differences of Opinion upon ſome Kinds of moral Beauty and Deformity, in the different Nations and Ages of the World: And each Age and Nation hath ever been alike poſitive in aſſerting the Pro⯑priety of its own. Therefore, unleſs we have ſome further Teſt, ſome other diſtin⯑guiſhing and characteriſtic Circumſtance to refer to, beſides that of mere Approbation and Diſlike, how ſhall we ever know, which of theſe anomalous Opinions are right or wrong? If we have nothing further to appeal to, than the mere Propriety of Taſte, though each may be thoroughly ſatisfied of the Juſtneſs of his own; yet he ought in Reaſon to allow the ſame Right of Choice to the reſt of Mankind in every Age and Nation: And thus indeed, moral Beauty and Deformity, Virtue and Vice, could have no other Law, than that of Fancy and Opinion.

BUT when the great End of public Hap⯑pineſs is ultimately referred to, as the one, [141] uniform Circumſtance that conſtitutes the Rectitude of human Actions; then indeed, Virtue and Vice aſſume a more real and per⯑manent Nature: The common Senſe, nay, the very Neceſſities of Mankind, will urge them to make an unvaried and juſt Diſ⯑tinction: For Happineſs and Miſery make too ſtrong an Appeal to all the Faculties of Man, to be borne down by the Caprice of Fancy and Opinion. That it was either an accidental or a deſigned Inattention to this great Principle of Happineſs, that gave this coarſe Writer an Occaſion to call in Queſtion the permanent Reality of Vice and Virtue, the following Conſiderations may ſufficiently convince us.

SHOULD any one aſk, whether Health and Sickneſs are two different Things, no Doubt we ſhould anſwer in the Affirmative: And would ſurely ſuſpect any Man's Sincerity, who ſhould tell us, that what was accounted Health in one Age or Nation, was ac⯑counted Sickneſs in another. There are likewiſe ſuch Things as wholeſome Food and Poiſons: Nor would we entertain a much better Opinion of him who ſhould affirm, that all depends upon Fancy; that Bread or Milk are nouriſhing or deſtructive, [142] that Arſenic and Sublimate are wholeſome or poiſonous, as Imagination and Opinion dictate. On the contrary we know, their Nature with Reſpect to Man, is invariable: The one, univerſally wholeſome, the other, poiſonous. Further: we know there have been Debates among Phyſicians, about Re⯑gimen and Diet: That ſome have main⯑tained the Wholeſomeneſs of Animal, others of vegetable Food: Some recommended the Drinking of Water, others of Wine. Yet none was ever ſo weak as to conclude from theſe different Opinions about wholeſome Diet, that the nouriſhing Qualities of Bread, or the noxious ones of Arſenic, were not permanent Realities with regard to Man; or, that the firſt could be made poiſonous, the latter, wholeſome, by Dint of Fancy and Opinion.

NOW, the Caſe we are debating is exact⯑ly parallel. For ſure, the Happineſs and Miſery of Mankind are Things as diſtinct as Health and Sickneſs: Whence it follows, that certain Actions, under the ſame Cir⯑cumſtances, muſt univerſally produce Hap⯑pineſs or Miſery, as naturally as Food pro⯑duceth Health, or Poiſon, Sickneſs, and Death. We have already ſeen, that what⯑ever [143] tends to the Good of all, is by the con⯑ſent of all, denominated Virtue; that what⯑ever is contrary to this great End, is univer⯑ſally branded as Vice; in the ſame Manner, as whatever nouriſhes the Body is called Food; whatever deſtroys it, Poiſon. Ac⯑cordingly, we find the Agreement among Mankind as uniform on the one Subject, as on the other. All Ages and Nations having without Exception or Variance maintained, that Humanity, Fidelity, Truth, Tem⯑perance, and mutual Benevolence, do as na⯑turally produce Happineſs, as Food gives Health to the Body: That Cruelty, Trea⯑chery, Lying, Intemperance, Inhumanity, Adultery, Murder, do as naturally give Riſe to Miſery, as Poiſon brings on Sickneſs and Death.

BUT hath not this Author given ſuch Inſtances as prove, that what is deteſted as Vice in one Country, is applauded as Virtue in another? That Polygamy and inceſtuous Marriages have been in ſome Nations re⯑puted lawful, in others meritorious? And if one Virtue or Vice be imaginary or variable, doth it not clearly follow that all are ſo?

NOW a Man of a common Turn of Thought would be apt to make a very dif⯑ferent [144] Inference. If from the Variety of Opinions among Mankind as to ſome Vir⯑tues or Vices, he concluded theſe were va⯑riable; then from the univerſal Agreement of Mankind with regard to other Virtues and Vices, he would conclude theſe were fixed and invariable. The Conſent of Man⯑kind in the one, proves as much as their Diſagreement in the other. And 'tis evident that both their Conſent and Diſagreement ariſe from the ſame Principle: A Principle which deſtroys the Tenets, which this Au⯑thor labours to eſtabliſh. For, to reſume our Illuſtration, as the various Opinions concerning the ſuperior Wholeſomeneſs of this or that kind of Diet, does not change the Nature of Bread or Poiſon; ſo neither can the various Opinions concerning Poly⯑gamy or Inceſt, affect or change the Nature of Benevolence and Generoſity, Adultery and Murder. 'Tis plain, theſe various Opinions have been formed ‘"upon ſuch Actions only, as are not univerſally and clearly con⯑nected with the Happineſs or Miſery of Mankind."’ As theſe Actions have been deemed productive of the one or the other, they have been regarded as Virtues or Vices: But this Variety of Opinions does no [145] more unſettle the Nature of thoſe Actions, whoſe Tendency is clear and certain; than the Debates on the ſuperior Wholeſomeneſs of animal or vegetable Diet can change the Nature of Bread and Poiſon. Hence it ap⯑pears, that Virtue and Vice are permanent Realities, and that their Nature is fixed, certain, and invariable.

THUS one Extreme produceth another. For the noble Writer and this Gentleman, through a ſtrong Diſlike of each other's Syſtems, have both endeavoured to prove too much, and in Conſequence have proved nothing. The one, contending for the per⯑manent Reality of Virtue, and, not content to fix it on its proper Baſis, attempts to eſta⯑bliſh certain abſolute and immutable Forms of Beauty, without Regard to any further End; and thus, by laying a chimerical Foundation, betrays the Cauſe which he ſo generouſly defends. The other, intent on deſtroying the permanent Reality of Virtue and Vice, and perceiving how weak a Baſis the noble Writer had laid for their Eſta⯑bliſhment, after proving this to be imagi⯑nary, as wiſely as honeſtly infers, there is no real one in Nature. We now ſee the Folly of theſe Extremes: That as on the [146] one Part, Virtue and Vice are Things merely relative to the Happineſs of Man; ſo on the other, while Man continues what he is, all thoſe Relations which concern his Happi⯑neſs, and ariſe from his preſent Manner of Exiſtence, are likewiſe permanent and im⯑mutable.

SECTION V.

BUT this idle Objection againſt the per⯑manent Reality of Virtue and Vice, is not the only one which the Writer laſt men⯑tioned hath laboured, for the Deſtruction of Religion and Virtue. For the main Drift and Intention of his Book is to prove no leſs a Paradox than this, that ‘"private Vices are public Benefits."’ Now, till this Ob⯑jection be removed, our Idea and Definition of Virtue can never be thoroughly eſta⯑bliſhed. For if private Vices be public Be⯑nefits, then private Virtues are public Miſ⯑chiefs. And if ſo, what becomes of our Definition?

NOW, the firſt notable Circumſtance in this formidable Aſſertion of Dr. MANDE⯑VILLE, is its utter Inconſiſtency with all that he hath advanced in order to deſtroy the Reality of Vice and Virtue. For if indeed [147] theſe be mere Names, the Creatures of Fancy and Opinion, how can they be at⯑tended with any uniform Effects? How can they be either public Benefits, or public Evils?—If on the contrary, they really produce certain uniform Effects, as he hath attempted to prove, how can they be mere Non-Entities, the Creatures of Fancy and Opinion? Here lies a groſs and palpable Incoherence: Take which of his two Theories you pleaſe, the other abſolutely deſtroys it. If Vice be a public Benefit, it muſt be a permanent Reality: If it is not a permanent Reality, it cannot be a public Benefit.

LET us now examine the Foundations on which he hath built this ſtrange Hypo⯑theſis. His Book may be analyſed into four different Principles, which he hath variouſly combined, or rather jumbled together, ac⯑cording as each in their Turn would beſt ſerve his Purpoſe.

THE firſt Principle he lays down, or ra⯑ther takes up, i. e. for granted, is, ‘"that Man is a compound of evil Paſſions:"’ In other Words, ‘"that the Gratiſication of the natural Appetites is in itſelf a Vice."’ There are in his Book, at leaſt a hundred [148] Pages of the loweſt common-place Decla⯑mation, all founded on this one Principle, brought from the ſolitary Caves and Viſions of the Deſart. Thus the Deſire of being eſteemed by others, he ſtigmatizes with the Name of Pride: The natural Deſire of ſo⯑cial Converſe between the two Sexes, he diſtinguiſheth by a groſſer Appellation. In a word, through the whole Courſe of his Argument, he ſuppoſes that every ſelfiſh Ap⯑petite (that is, every Appetite which hath regard to ourſelf) is in its own Nature vile and abominable. This the candid Reader will probably think a little hard upon hu⯑man Nature: That no Man can be virtu⯑ous, while he endeavours to be eſteemed, while he loves to quench his Thirſt, mi⯑niſter to Poſterity, or eat his Dinner. On the Weight of theſe plain Inſtances, the Value of this firſt Principle may be ſafely left to any Man's impartial Trial.

HAVING thus branded every Gratifi⯑cation of the natural Appetites; he gains from hence a proper Foundation for the ſecond Pillar of this Temple of Vice. For he acquaints us with great Solemnity, that, of all other Vices, that of Luxury is moſt beneficial to a State: And that if this were [149] baniſhed the Nation, all Kinds of manual Occupations would immediately languiſh and decay^s. He ſays indeed, that Pedants make Objections to this Vice of Luxury, and tell you, that it enervates a People: But he adds, that ‘"ſince he has ſeen the World, the Conſequences of Luxury to a Nation, ſeem not ſo dreadful to him as they did^t."’ Had he left the Matter here, we ſhould have been at a Loſs to know how he would have made out this ſtrange Tale: But the Riddle is cleared up at once, when we hear him ſay, that ‘"every thing is Luxury, that is not immediately neceſſary to make Man ſubſiſt as he is a living Creature^v."’

WE ſhould have been ſtartled perhaps had he aſſured us, that he had a Wind-mill which laid Eggs, and bred young ones: But how eaſily had he reconciled us to his Ve⯑racity by only ſaying, that by a Wind-mill he meant a Gooſe, or a Turkey?

THUS, when he affirms that Luxury pro⯑duceth public Happineſs, we ſtand ready for ſome deep and ſubtile Speculation, to ſupport ſo wondrous a Paradox. But when he poorly tells us, ‘"that every thing is [150] Luxury that is not immediately neceſſary to make Man ſubſiſt as he is a living Creature;"’ we laugh not ſo much at his Impudence, as at our own Folly in giving Ear to ſo idle a Prater, whoſe wide-mouthed Paradoxes ſo ſoon dwindle into a little harmleſs Nonſenſe; and when we thought we had him reforming States, and new-modeling Philoſophy, he was all the while playing at Crambo.

LEST it ſhould be ſuſpected, that the Features of this Man's Folly are here ag⯑gravated, take a Copy of his Countenance in one Inſtance out of many that might be given. ‘"The Conſequences, ſaith he, of this Vice of Luxury to a Nation, ſeem not ſo dreadful to me as they did"’—For ‘"clean Linen weakens a Man no more than Flannel^w."’ Now from theſe Paſ⯑ſages laid together, it appears; firſt, that Luxury is a Vice; ſecondly, that to wear clean Linen is Luxury; and, therefore, it comes out as clear as the Day, ‘"that to wear clean Linen is a Vice."’

SERIOUSLY; the Sophiſtry here em⯑ployed, is one of thoſe Inſults that can be ſafely offered only to an Engliſh Under⯑ſtanding; [151] which though none of the brighteſt is always ready to reflect the pre⯑ſent Object. Did ever any Man before—except only a Set of wrong-headed Enthu⯑ſiaſts, whoſe Viſions he is here obliged to adopt—did ever any Man maintain, that to uſe the Bounties of Nature, or enjoy the Conveniences of Life was a criminal Indul⯑gence? Did ever any Man maintain, that he could be viciouſly luxurious, who neither hurt his Neighbour nor himſelf? At this Rate, by an arbitrary Uſe of Words, and putting one Expreſſion for another, we might boldly advance the moſt palpable Contradictions, and maintain, that Dr. M—D—LE was a Man of Modeſty and Virtue.

THUS far we have ſeen this Writer en⯑deavouring to throw the falſe Colours of Vice upon the natural Paſſions, and ſuch a Uſe of the Gifts of Nature as is really In⯑nocent. In examining his two remaining Principles, we ſhall find him acting a Part the very reverſe; and with the ſame Ef⯑frontery, endeavouring to throw the falſe Colours of public Utility on ſuch Actions and Affections as are really criminal and de⯑ſtructive.

[152] TO this Purpoſe he boldly ſelects ſome of the moſt flagrant Crimes; and aſſures us, that without their happy Influence the Pub⯑lic would ſuffer exceedingly. Who had ever dreamt, that Mankind receives Benefit from Thieves and Houſe-breakers? Yet he tells us, that ‘"if all People were ſtrictly honeſt, half the Smiths in the Nation would want Employment^x."’

HIGHWAYMEN too, and Robbers are uſe⯑ful in their Generation. For ‘"if a Miſer ſhould be robbed of Five hundred or a thouſand Guineas^y, it is certain, that as ſoon as this Money ſhould come to circu⯑late, the Nation would be the better for the Robbery, and receive the ſame and as real a Benefit from it, as if an Archbiſhop had left the ſame Sum to the Public^z."’

[153] HE is abundantly rhetorical on ‘"the large Catalogue of ſolid Bleſſings that accrue from, and are owing to intoxicating Gin^a."’ Inſomuch, that if the Drunken⯑neſs and Frenzy ariſing from the exceſſive Uſe of this ſalutary Liquor were curbed by the Magiſtrate, he ſeems to foretel the moſt fatal Conſequences to the public Wealth and Welfare.

HERE then he enumerates ſeveral real Crimes, which are neceſſarily attended with great Evils; and theſe he demonſtrates, are accidentally productive of ſome Good. And this indeed is the only Part of his Argu⯑ment, that is attended with any Degree of Plauſibility: For here, it muſt be owned, there is Room for a diſhoneſt Mind to con⯑found, though by no Means to convince an impartial Reader. Becauſe the Conſe⯑quences of theſe Crimes being of a various and diſcordant Nature, ſome having the Ap⯑pearance of Good, and others of Ill to So⯑ciety; a rhetorical Diſplay of the former may poſſibly induce a ſuperficial Enquirer, who is caught by a Glare of Eloquence, to doubt whether theſe do not really predomi⯑nate. But a moderate Share of Attention [154] will convince us, that this is impoſſible. Becauſe all the real Vices he mentions, though they be accidentally productive of ſome Good; yet 'tis ſuch as might effectu⯑ally be obtained without them. Thus the Money taken wrongfully by Stealth or Rob⯑bery, is only of Service to the Public by its Circulation: But Money may circulate with⯑out Stealth or Robbery; and therefore 'tis neither the Stealth nor Robbery that is of Service to the Public. On the other part, there are great and ſubſtantial Evils, which theſe Crimes, and theſe alone give Riſe to. On this Occaſion one might be very large on the Terrors and Diſtreſs, the Murders, and conſequent Miſeries, which the Villa⯑nies patronized by this Writer do neceſſa⯑rily produce. One who was Maſter of Dr. MANDEVILLE's Town-Rhetoric and Town-Experience, might draw a ſtriking Picture of honeſt and induſtrious Families rowzed from Sleep at Midnight, only to be plun⯑dered and deſtroyed; of the horrid Attempts of abandoned Wickedneſs, let looſe from Fear by the Security of Darkneſs; the Shrieks of raviſhed Maids and Matrons; the dying Groans of Brothers, Fathers, Huſbands, weltring in their Blood; the [155] Cries of innocent and helpleſs Orphans weeping over their murdered Parents, de⯑prived at once of all that were dear to them, of all that could yield them Conſolation or Support; and ſuffering every vile Indignity, that unrelenting Villainy can ſuggeſt or per⯑petrate. And how, think you, does this Scene of domeſtic Horror change its ori⯑ginal Nature, and riſe at length into a pub⯑lic Bleſſing? Why, becauſe the Adven⯑turers, having made off with their Booty, may poſſibly ‘"lay it out upon a Harlot, or ſquander it in a Night-cellar, or a Gin⯑ſhop ^b:"’ And thus the Money circulates through the Nation. But, in the mean Time, our Philoſopher hath forgot the help⯑leſs Family reduced to Beggary by the Prow⯑eſs of his nocturnal Herces: He hath for⯑got that the fond and indulgent Parent might no leſs probably have laid out the Money in the temperate Maintenance and liberal Edu⯑cation of his Children, which is now ſquan⯑dered in unprofitable Riot and Exceſs: That theſe Deſtroyers of other Men's Happineſs and their own, had they been employed in honeſt Labour, in the Cultivation of Lands, or the Improvement of Manufactures, might [156] have done ſubſtantial Services to the Pub⯑lic and themſelves, without the guilty Alloy of unprovoked Miſchief. From theſe Cir⯑cumſtances impartially compared, 'tis evi⯑dent, that the only eſſential Conſequence of private Vice, is public Miſery: And thus our Author's new faſhioned Syſtem of Morals falls back again into nothing.

HIS fourth Principle is much leſs plauſi⯑ble. Indeed he never applies to this, but when reduced to the laſt Neceſſity: When therefore every other Foundation fails him, he attempts to impoſe upon his Reader's Negligence or Simplicity, by repreſenting Vice as a Cauſe, where in Reality 'tis a Con⯑ſequence. Thus he tells us, ‘"Great Wealth and foreign Treaſure will ever ſcorn to come among Men, unleſs you'll admit their inſeparable Companions, Avarice and Luxury: Where Trade is conſiderable, Fraud will intrude. To be at once well⯑bred and ſincere, is no leſs than a Contra⯑diction: And therefore whilſt Man ad⯑vances in Knowledge, and his Manners are poliſhed, we muſt expect to ſee at the ſame Time his Deſires enlarged, his Ap⯑petites refined, and his Vices increaſed ^c."’ [157] So again, having been driven from his other ſtrong Holds by certain impertinent Re⯑markers, whom he wiſely diſmiſſeth with an Air of Superiority and Contempt, he takes Refuge in the ſame ambiguous Phraſes: As that ‘"Vice is inſeparable from great and potent Societies, in the ſame Manner as dirty Streets are a neceſſary Evil, inſe⯑parable from the Felicity of London ^d."’

NOW, though this happy Simile may work Wonders in a Coffee-Houſe, amongſt thoſe who ſee every dirty Alley pregnant with Demonſtration; yet, 'tis to be hoped, more ſerious Readers may diſtinguiſh bet⯑ter. And be enabled to tell him, that be⯑fore they grant his Poſition, that private Vice is public Benefit, they expect he ſhould prove, ‘"that the Dirt in London Streets, is the Cauſe or Inſtrument whereby London becomes a populous and flouriſhing City:"’ A Propoſition almoſt as remote from com⯑mon Apprehenſion, as that Tenterden Steeple is the Cauſe of Goodwin Sands. Thus, we ſee how dextrouſly he puts the Change upon the unwary Reader; and while he pretends to exhibit an eſſential Cauſe, ſlurs him off with an accidental Conſequence.

[158] INTO theſe four Principles, all evidently Falſe or Foreign to the Purpoſe, his whole Book may be juſtly analyſed. Nor is there one Obſervation in the Compaſs of ſo many hundred Pages, which tends to ſupport the pernicious Falſehood that diſgraceth his Title-Page, but what will naturally reſolve itſelf into one or other of theſe wretched Sophiſms. 'Tis therefore unneceſſary to lead the Reader through all the Windings of this immenſe Labyrinth of Falſehood, 'tis enough, to have given the Clue which may ſafely conduct him through them.

SECTION VI.

HAVING at Length gained an Ade⯑quate Idea of Virtue, and found that it is no other than ‘"the voluntary Production of the greateſt public Happineſs;"’ we may now ſafely proceed to conſider, ‘"upon what Foundations Mankind are obliged to the Practice of it?"’

AND here we ſhall find another meta⯑phyſical Cloud reſting upon this Path, in itſelf plain and eaſy to all Mankind. For the very Notion of Obligation to Virtue hath been as much conſounded by moral Wri⯑ters, [159] as the Idea of Virtue itſelf. And here we might travel through another Syſtem of Logomachies; while one aſſerts, that we are obliged to love and purſue Virtue, becauſe ſhe is beautiful; another, becauſe Virtue is good; another, becauſe Virtue is good in itſelf; a fourth, becauſe Virtue is Truth; a fifth, becauſe it is agreeable to Nature; a ſixth, be⯑cauſe it is agreeable to the Relations of Things.

BUT 'tis ſuppoſed that the intelligent Reader, from a review of the firſt Section of this Eſſay, may be convinced, that all theſe amuſing Expreſſions amount to no more than this, ‘"that there is ſome Rea⯑ſon or other why we ought to practiſe Virtue; but that the particular Reaſon doth not appear, notwithſtanding all this refined Pomp of Affirmation."’ And as it hath already been made evident, that the Eſſence of Virtue conſiſts in a Conformity of our Affections and Actions, with the greateſt public Happineſs; ſo it will now appear, that ‘"the only Reaſon or Motive, by which Individuals can poſſibly be induced or obliged to the Practice of Virtue, muſt be the Feeling immediate, or the Proſpect of future private Happineſs."’

[160] DOUBTLESS, the noble Writer's Admirers will deſpiſe and reject this, as an unworthy Maxim. For ſo it hath happened, that in the Height of their Zeal, for ſupporting his Opinions, they generally ſtigmatize private Happineſs, as a Thing ſcarce worth a wiſe Man's enquiring after. Indeed, the many ambiguous Phraſes of their Maſter have contributed not a little to this vulgar Error. For in one Place, he brands the modern Philoſophers and Divines with the Name of Sophiſters and Pedants, for ‘"rating Life by the Number and Exquiſiteneſs of the pleaſing Senſations^e."’ At other Times he ſpeaks of Pleaſure, with all the Con⯑tempt of an antient Stoic ^f. In the ſame high Style of the Athenian Porch, he paſ⯑ſeth Judgment on the Hopes of the Reli⯑gious: ‘"They have made Virtue ſo mer⯑cenary a Thing, and have talked ſo much of its Rewards, that one can hardly tell what there is in it, after all, which can be worth rewarding^g."’ So again, he de⯑rides thoſe ‘"modern Projectors, who would new frame the human Heart; and have a mighty Fancy to reduce all its Motions, [161] Balances, and Weights to that one Prin⯑ciple and Foundation of a cool and deli⯑berate Selfiſhneſs: And thus, Love of one's Country, and Love of Mankind, muſt alſo be Self-love ^h."’

NOW ere we proceed further, it may be neceſſary to remark, that in ſome Degree there hath been a Strife about Words in this particular too. For theſe Expreſſions of Selfiſhneſs and Diſintereſtedneſs have been uſed in a very looſe and indeterminate Man⯑ner. In one Senſe a Motive is called diſin⯑tereſted; when it conſiſts in a pure benevo⯑lent Affection, or a Regard to the moral Senſe. In another, no Motive is diſin⯑tereſted: For even in acting according to theſe Impulſes of Benevolence and Con⯑ſcience, we gratify an Inclination, and act upon the Principle or immediate Feeling of private Happineſs. Thus when we ſay, ‘"We love Virtue for Virtue's Sake;"’ 'tis only implied, that we find immediate Happineſs from the Love and Practice of Virtue, with⯑out Regard to external or future Conſe⯑quences.

ANOTHER Source of mutual Miſappre⯑henſion on this Subject hath been ‘"the In⯑troduction [162] of metaphorical Expreſſions in⯑ſtead of proper ones."’ Nothing is ſo common among the Writers on Morality, as ‘"the Harmony of Virtue"—"the Pro⯑portion of Virtue."’ So the noble Writer frequently expreſſeth himſelf. But his fa⯑vourite Term, borrowed indeed from the Antients, is ‘"the BEAUTY of Virtue."—Quae ſi videri poſſet, mirabiles excitaret amores ⁱ’—Of this our Author and his Fol⯑lowers, eſpecially the moſt ingenious of them^k, are ſo enamoured, that they ſeem ut⯑terly to have forgot they are talking in Me⯑taphor, when they deſcribe the Charms of this ſovereign Fair. Inſomuch, that an unexperienced Perſon, who ſhould read their Encomiums, would naturally fall into the Miſtake of him, who aſked the Philo⯑ſopher, ‘"Whether the Virtues were not living Creatures^l?"’ Now this figurative Manner, ſo eſſentially interwoven into phi⯑loſophical Diſquiſition, hath been the Oc⯑caſion of great Error. It tends to miſlead us both with regard to the Nature of Vir⯑tue, and our Obligations to the Practice of it. For firſt, it induceth a Perſuaſion, that Virtue is excellent without Regard to any of [163] its Conſequences: And ſecondly, that he muſt either want Eyes, or common Diſcern⯑ment, who doth not at firſt Sight fall in Love with this matchleſs Lady.

THEREFORE ſetting aſide, as much as may be, all ambiguous Expreſſions, it ſeems evident, that ‘"a Motive, from its very Na⯑ture, muſt be ſomething that affects our⯑ſelf."’ If any Man hath found out a Kind of Motive which doth not affect himſelf, he hath made a deeper Inveſtigation into the ‘"Springs, Weights, and Balances"’ of the human Heart, than I can pretend to. Now what can poſſibly affect ourſelf, or deter⯑mine us to Action, but either the Feeling or Proſpect of Pleaſure or Pain, Happineſs or Miſery?

BUT to come to the direct Proof: 'Tis evident, even to Demonſtration, that no Affection can, in the ſtrict Senſe, be more or leſs ſelfiſh or diſintereſted than another; becauſe, whatever be its Object, the Af⯑fection itſelf is ſtill no other than a Mode either of Pleaſure or of Pain; and is there⯑fore equally to be referred to the Mind or Feeling of the Patient, whatever be its ex⯑ternal Occaſion. Indeed, a late Writer of Subtilty and Refinement hath attempted to [164] make a Diſtinction here. He ſays, ‘"It hath been obſerved, that every Act of Virtue or Friendſhip is attended with a ſecret Pleaſure; from whence it hath been concluded, that Friendſhip and Vir⯑tue could not be diſintereſted. But the Fallacy of this is obvious. The virtuous Sentiment or Paſſion produces the Plea⯑ſure, and does not ariſe from it. I feel a Pleaſure in doing good to my Friend, becauſe I love him; but I do not love him for the Sake of that Pleaſure^m."’ Now to me, the Fallacy of this is obvious. For in Fact, neither the Paſſion, nor the Plea⯑ſure, are either the Cauſe or the Conſequence of each other; they neither produce nor ariſe from each other; becauſe, in Reality, they are the ſame Thing under different Ex⯑preſſions. This will be clear, if we ſtate the Caſe as follows: ‘"To love my Friend, is to feel a Pleaſure in doing him Good:"’ And converſely; ‘"to feel a Pleaſure in doing Good to my Friend, is to love him."’ Where 'tis plain that the Terms are ſynony⯑mous. The Pleaſure therefore is the very Paſſion itſelf; and neither prior nor poſterior to it, as this Gentleman ſuppoſeth.

[165] AGAIN, that the Pleaſures ariſing from Benevolence, and the moral Senſe, are ſtrictly Selfiſh, in this Senſe of the Word, like every other Enjoyment, ſeems evident from ſome parallel Conceſſions of the noble Writer. For theſe ſeemingly diſintereſted Pleaſures he perpetually ſets on a Level with the Perceptions of natural Beauty, Order, Harmony, and Proportion. Theſe laſt are, by all, acknowledged to be of the ſelfiſh Kind; therefore the other are ſo too; be⯑ing only a higher Order of the ſame, and ex⯑preſly called ſo by the noble Writerⁿ.

THE Reaſons why the great univerſal Principle of private Happineſs hath not been ſo clearly ſeen in the Benevolent, as in the Self-Paſſions, ſeem to be theſe. Firſt, Am⯑biguous Expreſſions, ſuch as have been re⯑marked above. 2dly, Perhaps ſome De⯑gree of Pride, and Affectation of Merit; becauſe Merit ſeems to appear in what is called Diſintereſt. 3dly, And perhaps principally, becauſe in the Exerciſe of the benevolent Paſſions, the Happineſs is eſſen⯑tially concomitant with the Paſſion itſelf, and therefore is not eaſily ſeparated from it by the Imagination, ſo as to be conſidered [166] as a diſtinct End. Whereas in the Paſſions called Selfiſh, the Happineſs ſought after is often unattainable, and therefore eaſily and neceſſarily diſtinguiſhed by the Imagination as a poſitive End. This Circumſtance of Union however, as is judiciouſly remarked by one of the noble Writer's Followers^o, proves the great Superiority and Excellence of the benevolent Affections, conſidered as a Source of Happineſs, beyond the Paſſions and Appetites, commonly called the Selfiſh.

BUT although theſe Obſervations be ne⯑ceſſary, in order to clear up an Affair, which hath been much perplexed with philoſophi⯑cal, or unphiloſophical Refinements; yet, on a cloſer Examination, it will appear, in the moſt direct Manner, from the noble Writer himſelf, that ‘"there is no other Principle of human Action, but that of the imme⯑diate or foreſeen Happineſs of the Agent:"’ That all theſe amuſing Speculations con⯑cerning the Comely, Fit, and Decent; all theſe verbal Separations between Pleaſure, Intereſt, Beauty, and Good, might have been ſunk in one preciſe and plain Diſquiſition, concerning ſuch Actions and Affections as [167] yield a laſting, and ſuch as afford only a ſhort and tranſient Happineſs. For thus, af⯑ter all, his Lordſhip explains himſelf: ‘"That Happineſs is to be purſued, and, in Fact, is always ſought after; that the Queſtion is not, who loves himſelf, and who not; but who loves and ſerves himſelf the righeſt, and after the trueſt Manner.—That 'tis the Height of Wiſdom, no doubt, to be rightly Selfiſh"—"Even to leave Family, Friends, Country, and Society—in good Earneſt, who would not, if it were Happineſs to do ſo^p?"’

THESE Expreſſions are ſo ſtrongly point⯑ed, as to leave no further Doubt concern⯑ing the noble Writer's Sentiments on this Subject. Indeed, they are the natural Dic⯑tates of common Senſe, unſophiſticated with falſe Philoſophy. In every ſubſequent De⯑bate therefore, wherein his Lordſhip's Opi⯑nions are concerned, we may ſafely build on this as an acknowledged and ſure Foun⯑dation, ‘"that the Motives or natural Obli⯑gations of Man to the Practice of Virtue, can only ariſe from a Senſe of his preſent, or a Proſpect of his future Happineſs."’

SECTION VII.

NOW this Concluſion will carry us to another Queſtion of a very intereſting and abſtruſe Nature: That is, ‘"How far, and upon what Foundation, the uniform Practice of Virtue, is really and clearly connected with the Happineſs of every Individual?"’ For ſo far, as we have ſeen, and no further, can every Individual be na⯑turally moved or obliged to the Practice of it.

THIS is evidently a Queſtion of Fact: And as it relates to the Happineſs of Man, can only be determined by appealing to his Conſtitution. If this be indeed uniform and invariable; that is, if every Individual hath the ſame Perceptions, Paſſions, and Deſires; then indeed the Sources of Happineſs muſt be ſimilar and unchangeable. If, on the con⯑trary, different Men be differently conſti⯑tuted; if they have different Perceptions, Paſſions, and Deſires; then muſt the Sources of their Happineſs be equally va⯑rious.

IT ſhould ſeem therefore, that ‘"while Moraliſts have been enquiring into hu⯑man Happineſs, they have generally con⯑ſidered [169] it, as ariſing from one uniform and particular Source, inſtead of tracing it up to thoſe various Fountains whence it really ſprings; which are indefinitely various, combined, and indeterminable."’ And this ſeems to have been the moſt general Foundation of Error.

IF we ſpeak with Preciſion, there are but three Sources in Man, of Pleaſure and Pain, Happineſs and Miſery: Theſe are Senſe, Imagination, and the Paſſions. Now the ſlighteſt Obſervation will convince us, that theſe are aſſociated, ſeparated and combined in Man, with a Variety almoſt infinite. In ſome, the Pleaſures and Pains of Senſe pre⯑dominate; Imagination is dull; the Paſſions inactive. In others, a more delicate Frame awakens all the Powers of Imagination; the Paſſions are refined; the Senſes diſ⯑regarded. A third Conſtitution is carried away by the Strength of Paſſion: The Calls of Senſe are contemned; and Imagination becomes no more than the neceſſary Inſtru⯑ment of ſome further Gratification.

From overlooking this plain Fact, ſeems to have ariſen the Diſcordance among Phi⯑loſophers concerning the Happineſs of Man. And while each hath attempted to exhibit [170] one favourite Picture, as the Paragon or Standard of human Kind; they have all omitted ſome Ten thouſand other Reſem⯑blances which actually ſubſiſt in Nature.

THUS, moſt of the Epicurean Sect, tho' not the Founder of it, have diſcarded Be⯑nevolence and Virtue from their Syſtem of private Happineſs. The modern Patro⯑nizers of this Scheme, Mr. HOBBES, Dr. MANDEVILLE, and ſeveral French Writers, after heaping up a Collection of ſordid In⯑ſtances, which prove the ſenſual Inclinations and Selfiſhneſs of Man, leap at once to their deſired Concluſion, that the pretended pub⯑lic Affections are therefore no more than the ſame low Paſſions in Diſguiſe. That Benevolence makes no Part of Man's Na⯑ture; that the human Kind are abſolutely unconnected with each other in Point of Affection: And that every Individual ſeeks and finds his private Happineſs in and from himſelf alone.

THE noble Writer, on the contrary, viewing the brighter Parts of human Na⯑ture, through the amiable Medium of the Socratic Philoſophy; and fixing his Atten⯑tion on the public Affections, as the Inſtru⯑ments both of public and private Happi⯑neſs; [171] rejects the Epicurean's Pretences with Diſdain: And fully conſcious of the high Claims and Energy of Virtue, affirms that the private Affections are, by no means, a Foundation for private Happineſs: That, on the contrary, we muſt univerſally pro⯑mote the Welfare of others, if we would effectually ſecure our own: And that in every Caſe, ‘"Virtue is the Good, and Vice the Ill of every one^q."’

'TIS plain, no two Syſtems of Philoſophy can be more diſcordant than theſe; yet each of them have obtained a Number of Parti⯑zans in all Ages of the World. The Que⯑ſtion relates to a Fact, and the Fact lies open to the perſonal Examination of all Mankind. Whence then can ſo ſtrange an Oppoſition of Sentiments ariſe?

THIS ſeems to have ariſen, not from a falſe, but a partial View and Examination of the Subject. The Stoic Party dwell alto⯑gether on the ſocial or public, the Epicurean no leſs on the private or ſelfiſh Affections: On theſe reſpectively they declaim; ſo that according to the one, Mankind are naturally a Race of Demi-Gods; according to the other, a Crew of Devils. Both forgetting, [172] what is unqueſtionably the Truth, that theſe ſocial and private Affections are blend⯑ed in an endleſs Variety of Degrees, and thus form an infinite Variety of Inclinations and of Characters. Many of the particular Facts, therefore, which theſe two Sects al⯑ledge, are true: But the general Conſe⯑quence they draw from theſe particular Facts, is groundleſs and imaginary. Thus, 'tis true, that Mankind reap high Enjoy⯑ments from the Senſes, Imagination, and Paſſions, without any regard to the public Affections: But the Conſequence which the Epicurean would draw from hence, that ‘"therefore the public Affections are never, in any Caſe, a Source of private Happi⯑neſs;"’ this is entirely void of Evidence: It ſuppoſeth Mankind to be one uniform Subject, while it is a Subject infinitely va⯑rious; that every Individual has the ſame Feelings, Appetites, Fancies, and Affections, while, in Fact, they are mixed and com⯑bined in an endleſs Variety of Degrees. So, on the contrary, it muſt appear to every im⯑partial Obſerver, that ‘"the Exerciſe of the public Affections is a Source of the higheſt Gratification to many Individuals."’ But the Stoic's Concluſion, that ‘"therefore the [173] uniform Exerciſe of the public Affections, in Preference to every other, is the only Source of Happineſs to every Individual;"’ this is a Concluſion equally void of Evi⯑dence. For, like its oppoſite Extreme, it ſuppoſeth Mankind to be one uniform Sub⯑ject, while, in Fact, it is a Subject indefi⯑nitely various. It ſuppoſes that every Indi⯑vidual has the ſame Feelings, Appetites, Fancies, and Affections, while, in Reality, they are mixed and combined in an endleſs Variety of Degrees.

LET us now aſſign the moſt probable Foundation, on which theſe narrow and partial Syſtems have been ſo commonly embraced. For, that two Theories ſo op⯑poſite, and ſo devoid of all rational Support, ſhould have made their Way in the World, without ſome permanent Cauſe beyond the Inſtability of mere Chance, ſeems hardly credible.

IT ſhould ſeem therefore, that ‘"while the Patronizers of theſe two Syſtems have attempted to give a general Picture of the human Species, they have all along taken the Copy from themſelves: And thus their Philoſophy, inſtead of being a true Hiſtory of Nature, is no more than the [172] [...] [173] [...] [174] Hiſtory of their own Imaginations or Af⯑fections."’—This Truth may receive ſuf⯑ficient Confirmation from the Lives and Conduct of all the old Philoſophers, from the elegant PLATO walking on his rich Car⯑pets, to the unbred CYNIC ſnarling in his Tub. As every Man's Conſtitution led him, ſo he adopted this or that Sect of Philoſo⯑phy, and reaſoned concerning Fitneſs, De⯑cency, and Good. Read the Characters of CATO and CESAR, and you will clearly diſ⯑cover the true Foundation on which the one became a rigid Stoic, the other, a groſs Epicurean. The firſt, yet a Boy, diſcovered ſuch an inflexible Adherence to the Privi⯑leges of his Country, that he refuſed his Aſ⯑ſent to what he thought a Violation of them, though threatened with immediate Death^r. The latter, yet unpractiſed in the Subtilties of Philoſophy, and under the ſole Dominion of natural Temper, diſcovered, at his firſt Appearance in the World, ſuch Traits of Art, Spirit, and Ambition, that SYLLA declared, he ſaw ſomething more formidable than MARIUS riſing in him^s. To bring down the Obſervation to modern Times; 'tis evident, that the Patronizers [175] of theſe two Syſtems inliſt themſelves ac⯑cording to the ſecret Suggeſtions of their ſeveral Paſſions. 'Tis well known, that the Writer of the Fable of the Bees was nei⯑ther a Saint in his Life, nor a Hermit in his Diet: He ſeems to have been Maſter of a very conſiderable Sagacity, much Know⯑ledge of the World, as it appears in popu⯑lous Cities, extremely ſenſible to all the groſſer bodily Enjoyments; but for Delicacy of Sentiment, Imagination, or Paſſion, for an exquiſite Taſte either in Arts or Morals, he appears to have been incapable of it.—The noble Writer is known to have been of a Frame the very Reverſe of this: His Con⯑ſtitution was neither more nor leſs oppoſite to Dr. MANDEVILLE's, than his Philoſo⯑phy. His ſenſual Appetites were weak; his Imagination all alive, noble, and capaci⯑ous; his Paſſions were accordingly refined, and his public Affections (in Fancy at leaſt) predominant. To theſe Inſtances, a mo⯑derate Share of Sagacity and Knowledge of the World may add others innumerable, in obſerving the Temper and Conduct of the Followers oſ theſe two Syſtems; who al⯑ways take Party according to the Biaſs of their own Conſtitution. Among the Epi⯑cureans [176] we ever find Men of high Health, florid Complexions, firm Nerves, and a Ca⯑pacity for Pleaſure: Of the Stoic Party are the delicate or ſickly Frames, Men incapa⯑ble of the groſſer ſenſual Enjoyments, and who either are, or think themſelves virtu⯑ous. Now from theſe accumulated Proofs we may be convinced, that ‘"they who give us theſe uniform Pictures of a Subject ſo various as Mankind, cannot have drawn them from Nature: That, on the con⯑trary, they have copied them from their own Hearts or Imaginations; and fondly erected themſelves into a general Standard of the human Species."’

BUT although theſe Obſervations may afford ſufficient Proof, that the Stoic and Epicurean Pictures of Mankind are equally partial; yet ſtill it remains to be enquired how far, upon the whole, the human Kind in Reality leans towards the one or the other: That is, ‘"how far, and in what Degree, the uniform Practice of Virtue conſtitutes the Happineſs of Individuals?"’ Now the only Method of determining this Queſtion, will be to ſelect ſome of the moſt ſtriking Features of the human Heart: By this Means we may approach towards a real [177] Likeneſs, though from that infinite Variety which ſubſiſts in Nature, the Draught muſt ever be inadequate and defective.

TO begin with the loweſt Temperature of the human Species; ‘"there are great Numbers of Mankind, in whom the Senſes are the chief Sources of Pleaſure and Pain."’ To the Harmony of Sounds, the Beauty of Forms, the Decorum of Actions, they are utterly inſenſible. They are ſagacious and learned in all the Grati⯑fications of Senſe; but if you talk to them of the public Affections, of Generoſity, Kindneſs, Friendſhip, Good-will, you talk in a Language they underſtand not. They ſeem, in a Manner, unconnected with the reſt of their Kind; they view the Praiſes, Cenſures, Enjoyments and Sufferings of others, with an Eye of perfect Indifference. To Men thus formed, how can Virtue gain Admittance? Do you appeal to their Taſte of Beauty? They have none. To their acknowledged Perceptions of Right and Wrong? Theſe they Meaſure by their pri⯑vate Intereſt. To the Force of the public Affections? They never felt them. Thus every Avenue is forecloſed, by which Virtue ſhould enter.

[178] THE next remarkable Peculiarity is, ‘"where not the Senſes, but Imagination is the predominant Source of Pleaſure."’ Here the Taſte always runs into the elegant Refinements of polite Arts and Acquire⯑ments; of Painting, Muſic, Architecture, Poetry, Sculpture: Or, in Defect of this truer Taſte, on the falſe Delicacies of Dreſs, Furniture, and Equipage. Yet Experience tells us, that this Character is widely dif⯑ferent from the virtuous one: That all the Powers of Imagination may ſubſiſt in their full Energy, while the public Affections and moral Senſe are weak or utterly inactive. Nor can there be any neceſſary Connexion between theſe different Feelings; becauſe we ſee Numbers immerſed in all the finer Pleaſures of Imagination, who never once conſider them as the Means of giving Plea⯑ſure to others, but merely as a ſelfiſh Gratifi⯑cation. This the noble Writer ſeems to have been aware of; and, not without great Ad⯑dreſs, endeavours to convert the Fact into a Proof of his main Theory, though, in Rea⯑lity, it affords the ſtrongeſt Evidence againſt him. ‘"The Venuſtum, the Honeſtum, the Decorum of Things, will ſorce its Way. They, who refuſe to give it Scope in the [179] nobler Subjects of a rational and moral Kind, will find its Prevalency elſewhere, in an inferior Order of Things—as either in the Study of common Arts, or in the Care and Culture of mere mechanic Beauties.—The Specter ſtill will haunt us, in ſome Shape or other; and when driven from our cool Thoughts, and frighted from the Cloſet, will meet us even at Court, and fill our Heads with Dreams of Grandeur, Titles, Honours, and a falſe Magnificence and Beauty^t."’ All this is ingenious and plauſible: And the very ele⯑gant Alluſion, of ‘"the Specter ſtill haunt⯑ing us in ſome Shape or other,"’ ſeems at firſt View to imply, that even the moſt ob⯑ſtinate Endeavours to get rid of the Force of moral Beauty, are ineffectual and vain. But a nearer Examination will convince us, that the noble Writer applies here to Elo⯑quence, rather than Argument; and puts us off with a Metaphor inſtead of a Reaſon. For the Pleaſures of Imagination, whether they run in the Channel of polite Arts, Fur⯑niture, Planting, Building, or Equipage, are indeed no Specters, but independent Reali⯑ties ſairly exiſting in the Mind: They have [180] no immediate or neceſſary Connexion with the Happineſs of Mankind, which is often and deſignedly violated in order to gain the Poſſeſſion of them. 'Tis true, the Pleaſures of Imagination and Virtue are often united in the ſame Mind; but 'tis equally true, that they are often ſeparate; that they who are moſt ſenſible to the one, are entire Strangers to the other; that one Man, to purchaſe a fine Picture, will oppreſs his Tenant; that another, to relieve his diſtreſſed Tenant, will ſell his Statues or his Pictures. The Reaſon is evident: The one draws his Plea⯑ſure from Imagination; the other from Af⯑fection only. 'Tis clear therefore, that ‘"where Imagination is naturally the pre⯑dominant Source of Pleaſure,"’ the Mo⯑tives to Virtue muſt be very partial and weak, ſince the chief Happineſs ariſeth from a Source entirely diſtinct from the benevolent Affections.

ANOTHER, and very different Tempera⯑ture of the Heart of Man is that ‘"wherein neither Senſe nor Imagination, but the PASSIONS are the chief Sources of Plea⯑ſure and Pain."’ This often forms the beſt or the worſt of Characters. As it runs either, Firſt, Into the Extreme of Selfiſh⯑neſs, [181] Jealouſy, Pride, Hatred, Envy, and Revenge; or, 2dly, Into the amiable Af⯑fections of Hope, Faith, Candour, Pity, Generoſity, and Good-will; or, 3dly, Into a various Mixture or Combination of theſe; which is undoubtedly the moſt common Temperature of human Kind.

NOW to the firſt of theſe Tempers, how can we affirm with Truth, that there is a natural Motive or Obligation to Virtue? On the contrary, it ſhould ſeem, that, if there be any Motive, it muſt be to Vice. For 'tis plain, that from the Loſſes, Diſap⯑pointments, and Miſeries of Mankind, ſuch vile Tempers draw their chief Felicity. The noble Writer indeed, in his Zeal for Virtue, conſiders theſe black Paſſions as un⯑natural, and brands them as a Source of conſtant Miſery ^v. And ſure it would be matter of Joy to all good Men, to find his Proofs convincing. But if indeed this be not a true Repreſentation of the Caſe, I ſee not what Service can be done to the In⯑tereſts of Virtue, by diſguiſing Truth. 'Tis not the Part of a Philoſopher to write Pane⯑gyrics, but to inveſtigate the real State of human Nature; and the only Way of doing [182] this to any good Purpoſe, is to do it impar⯑tially: For with regard to human Nature, as well as Individuals, ‘"Flattery is a Crime no leſs than Slander."’

WHEN therefore the noble Writer calls theſe Affections unnatural, he doth not ſuf⯑ficiently explain himſelf. If indeed by their being unnatural, he means, that ‘"they are ſuch in their Degrees or Objects as to violate the public Happineſs, which is the main Intention of Nature;"’ in this Senſe, 'tis acknowledged, they are unnatural. But this Interpretation is foreign to the Que⯑ſtion; becauſe it affects not the Individual. But if, by their being unnatural, he would imply, that they are ‘"a Source of conſtant Miſery to the Agent;"’ this ſeems a Pro⯑poſition not eaſy to be determined in the Affirmative.

FOR the main Proof which he brings in Support of this Aſſertion is, ‘"that the Men of gentleſt Diſpoſitions, and beſt of Tempers, have at ſome time or other been ſufficiently acquainted with thoſe Diſtur⯑bances, which, at ill Hours, even ſmall Occaſions are apt to raiſe. From theſe ſlender Experiences of Harſhneſs and ill Humour, they fully know and will con⯑feſs [183] the ill Moments which are paſſed, when the Temper is ever ſo little galled and fretted. How muſt it fare therefore with thoſe, who hardly know any better Hours in Life; and who, for the greateſt Part of it, are agitated by a thorow active Spleen, a cloſe and ſettled Malignity and Rancour^w?"’

NOW, this Inſtance is by no means ſuf⯑ficient to ſupport the Affirmation. For 'tis plain, that in the Caſe of the ‘"Men of gentleſt Diſpoſitions, and beſt of Tempers, occaſionally agitated by ill Humour,"’ there muſt be a ſtrong Oppoſition and Diſ⯑cordance, a violent Conflict between the ha⯑bitual Affections of Benevolence, and theſe accidental Eruptions of Spleen and Rancour which riſe to obſtruct their Courſe. A Warfare of this Kind muſt indeed be a State of complete Miſery, when all is Uproar within, and the diſtracted Heart ſet at Va⯑riance with itſelf. But the Caſe is widely different, where ‘"a thorow active Spleen prevails, a cloſe and ſettled Malignity and Rancour."’ For in this Temper, there is no parallel Oppoſition of contending Paſ⯑ſions: Nor therefore any ſimilar Founda⯑tion [184] for inward Diſquiet and intenſe Miſery. So much the noble Writer himſelf is obliged to own elſewhere. ‘"Is there that ſordid Creature on Earth, who does not prize his own Enjoyment?—Is not Malice and Cruelty of the higheſt Reliſh with ſome Natures^x?"’ Again, and ſtill more fully to the Purpoſe: ‘"Had we Senſe, we ſhould conſider, 'tis in Reality the thorow Profli⯑gate, the very complete unnatural Villain alone, who can any way bid for Happineſs with the honeſt Man. True Intereſt is wholly on the one Side or the other. All between is Inconſiſtency, Irreſolution, Remorſe, Vexation, and an Ague-fit^y."’ Neither is this Acknowledgment peculiar to himſelf: ‘"To be conſiſtent either in Vir⯑tue or in Vice,"’ was the fartheſt that ſome of the moſt penetrating among the Ancients could carry the Point of Morals ^z. Thus where the ſelfiſh or malevolent Af⯑fections happen to prevail, there can be no internal Motive, or natural Obligation to Virtue.

ON the contrary, where the amiable Af⯑fections of Hope, Candour, Generoſity, and [185] Benevolence predominate, in this beſt and happieſt of Tempers, Virtue hath indeed all the Force and Energy, which the noble Writer attributes to her Charms. For where the Calls of Senſe are weak, the Imagination active and refined, the public Affections predominant; there the moral Senſe muſt naturally reign with uncontrouled Authority; muſt produce all that Self-Satisfaction, that Conſciouſneſs of merited Kindneſs and Eſteem, in which, his Lord⯑ſhip affirms, the very Eſſence of our Obli⯑gation to Virtue doth conſiſt. This ſhall with Pleaſure be acknowledged, nay aſ⯑ſerted, as ‘"the happieſt of all Tempera⯑ments,"’ whenever it can be found or ac⯑quired. To a Mind thus formed, Virtue doth indeed bring an immediate and ample Reward of perfect Peace and ſincere Happi⯑neſs in all the common Situations of Life. It may therefore be with Truth affirmed, that a Temper thus framed, is indeed na⯑turally and internally obliged to the uni⯑form Practice of Virtue.

THERE are, beſides theſe, an endleſs Va⯑riety of Characters formed from the vari⯑ous Combinations of theſe eſſential Ingre⯑dients; which are not deſigned as a full [186] Expreſſion of all the Tempers of Mankind: They are the Materials only, out of which theſe Characters are formed. They are no more than the ſeveral Species of ſimple Co⯑lours laid, as it were, upon the Pallet; which, variouſly combined and aſſociated by the Hand of an experienced Maſter, would indeed call forth every ſtriking Reſemblance, every changeful Feature of the Heart of Man.

NOW, among all this infinite Variety of Tempers which is found in Nature, we ſee there cannot be any uniform Motive or Ob⯑ligation to Virtue, ſave only ‘"where the Senſes are weak, the Imagination refined, and the public Affections ſtrongly predo⯑minant."’ For in every other Character, where either the Senſes, groſs Imagination, or ſelfiſh Paſſions prevail, a natural Oppo⯑ſition or Diſcordance muſt ariſe, and deſtroy the uniform Motive to Virtue, by throwing the Happineſs of the Agent into a different Channel. How ſeldom this ſublime Tem⯑per is to be found, is hard to ſay: But this may be affirmed with Truth, that every Man is not really poſſeſſed of it in the Conduct of Life, who enjoys it in Imagination, or admires it in his Cloſet, as it lies in the En⯑quiry [187] concerning Virtue. A Character of this ſupreme Excellence muſt needs be ap⯑proved by moſt: And the Heart of Man be⯑ing an unexhauſted Fountain of Self-Deceit, what it approves, is forward to think itſelf poſſeſſed of. Thus a lively Imagination and unperceived Self-Love, fetter the Heart in certain ideal Bonds of their own creating: Till at Length ſome turbulent and furious Paſſion ariſing in its Strength, breaks theſe fantaſtic Shackles which Fancy had im⯑poſed, and leaps to its Prey like a Tyger chained by Cobwebs.

SECTION VIII.

FROM theſe different Views of hu⯑man Nature, let us now bring this Argu⯑ment to a Concluſion.

THE noble Writer's Scheme of Morals therefore, being grounded on a Suppoſition, which runs through the whole Courſe of his Argument, that ‘"all Mankind are na⯑turally capable of attaining a Taſte or Re⯑liſh for Virtue, ſufficient for every Pur⯑poſe of ſocial Life,"’ ſeems eſſentially de⯑fective. For, from the Enquiry already made into the real and various Conſtitution [188] of Man, it appears, that a great Part of the Species are naturally incapable of this fan⯑cied Excellence. That the various Mix⯑ture and Predominancy of Senſe, Imagi⯑nation, and Paſſion, give a different Caſt and Complexion of Mind to every Individual: That the Feeling or Proſpect of Happineſs can only ariſe from this Combination: That conſequently, where the benevolent Af⯑fections and moral Senſe are weak, the ſelfiſh Paſſions and Perceptions headſtrong, there can be no internal Motive or natural Obligation to the conſiſtent Practice of Vir⯑tue.

THE moſt plauſible Pretence I could ever meet with, amidſt all the Pomp of Decla⯑mation thrown out in Support of this All-Sufficiency of a Taſte in Morals, is this. ‘"That although the Force and Energy of this Taſte for Virtue appears not in every Individual, yet the Power lies dormant in every human Breaſt; and needs only be called forth by a voluntary Self-Diſcipline, in order to be brought to its juſt Per⯑fection. That the Improvement in our Taſte in Morals is parallel to the Progreſs of the Mind in every other Art and Ex⯑cellence, in Painting, Muſic, Architecture, [189] Picture: In which, a true Taſte, how⯑ever natural to Man, is not born with him, but formed and brought forth to Action by a proper Study and Applica⯑tion."’

THE noble Writer hath innumerable Paſſages of this Kind: So many indeed, that it were Labour loſt to tranſcribe them^a. And one of his Followers hath affirmed in ſtill more emphatical Expreſſions, if poſſi⯑ble, than his Maſter, that ‘"the Height of Virtuoſo-ſhip is VIRTUE^b."’

NOW this State of the Caſe, though at firſt View it carries ſome Degree of Plauſi⯑bility, yet, on a cloſer Examination, deſtroys the whole Syſtem. For if, as it certainly is, the Capacity for a Taſte in Morals, be ſimilar to a Capacity for a Taſte in Arts; 'tis clear, that the moſt aſſiduous Culture or Self-Diſcipline can never make it even ge⯑neral, much leſs univerſal. One Man, we ſee, hath a Capacity or Genius for Painting, another for Muſic, a third for Architecture, a fourth for Poetry. Torture each of them as you pleaſe, you cannot infuſe a Taſte for any, but his own congenial Art. If you at⯑tempt [190] to make the Poet an Architect, or the Painter a Muſician, you may make a pre⯑tending Pedant, never an accompliſhed Maſter. 'Tis the ſame in Morals: Where the benevolent Affections are naturally ſtrong, there is a Capacity for a high Taſte in Virtue: Where theſe are weak or wanting, there is in the ſame Proportion, little or no Capacity for a Taſte in Virtue. To harangue, therefore, on the ſuperior Happineſs attend⯑ing the Exerciſe of the public Affections, is quite foreign to the Purpoſe. This ſuperior Happineſs is allowed, where the public Af⯑fections can be found or made predominant. But how can any Conſequence be drawn from hence, ſo as to influence thoſe who never felt the Impulſe of public Affection? Are not the Pleaſures of Poetry, Painting, Muſic, ſublime, pure, and laſting, to thoſe who taſte them? Doth it therefore follow, that all Mankind, or any of them, can be harangued into a Taſte and Love of theſe elegant Arts, while the very Capacity of re⯑ceiving Pleaſure from them is wanting? Thus in Morals, where a ſimilar Incapacity takes Place through the natural Want of a lively Benevolence, no Progreſs can ever be made in the Taſte or Reliſh for virtuous En⯑joyment. [191] Though therefore you ſhould prove, as indeed one of Lord SHAFTES⯑BURY's Followers hath done, ‘"that Virtue is accommodate to all Places and Times, is durable, ſelf-derived, and indeprivable ^c,"’ whence he concludes, it has the beſt Title to the Character of the ſovereign Good; yet all the while, the main Point in Debate is taken for granted, that is, ‘"whether the Poſſeſſion of it be any Good at all."’ Now to thoſe who receive no Increaſe of internal Happineſs from it, it cannot be a Good: And where there is a natural Defect of be⯑nevolent Affection, it can give no internal Happineſs: Conſequently, though it have all the other Characters of the Sumnium Bonum, though it be durable, ſelf-derived, and indeprivable, it can never, by ſuch, be regarded as the ſovereign Good.

'TIS pleaſant enough to obſerve the Ar⯑gumentation of the Writer laſt mentioned. After deſcribing ‘"the faireſt and moſt ami⯑able of Objects, the true and perfect Man, that Ornament of Humanity, that god⯑like Being, without Regard either to Plea⯑ſure or Pain, uninfluenced either by Pro⯑ſperity or Adverſity, ſuperior to the World, [192] and its beſt and worſt Events"’—He then raiſeth an Objection—‘"Does not this Syſtem border a little upon the Chimeri⯑cal?"’—On my Word, a ſhrewd Que⯑ſtion, and well worth a good Anſwer; and thus he clears it up.—‘"It ſeems to require, ſaid I, a Perfection to which no Indivi⯑dual ever arrived. That very Tranſcen⯑dence, ſaid he, is an Argument on its be⯑half. Were it of a Rank inferior, it would not be that Perfection which we ſeek. Would you have it, ſaid I, beyond Nature? If you mean, replied he, beyond any particular or individual Nature, moſt undoubtedly I would^d."’ 'Tis not there⯑fore to be wondered at, that this Gentleman, wrapped up in Viſions of ideal Perfection, ſhould expreſs ‘"his Contempt of thoſe ſu⯑perficial Cenſurers, who profeſs to refute what they want even Capacities to com⯑prehend^c."’ Doubtleſs he means thoſe groveling Obſervers, who draw their Ideas of Mankind ‘"from particular or individual Natures,"’ and have not yet riſen to ‘"the beatific Viſion ^f of the perfect Man."’ Indeed, the Gentleman frankly owns, ‘"that [193] Practice too often creeps, where Theory can ſoar ^g."’ And this I take to be a true Account of the Matter.

THUS, as according to theſe Moraliſts, the Reliſh or Taſte for Virtue is ſimilar to a Taſte for Arts; ſo what is ſaid of the Poet, the Painter, and Muſician, may with equal Truth be ſaid of the Man of Virtue—Naſcitur, non fit. Hence it is evident, that the noble Writer's Syſtem, which ſuppoſeth all Men capable of this exalted Taſte, is chimerical and groundleſs.

BUT even ſuppoſing all Men capable of this refined Taſte in Morals, there would ariſe an unanſwerable Objection againſt the Efficacy of this refined Theory. Though it were allowed, that all Mankind have the ſame delicate Perception of moral, as ſome few have of natural Beauty, yet the Parallel would by no means hold, that ‘"as the Vir⯑tuoſo always purſues his Taſte in Arts conſiſtently, ſo the Man of Virtue muſt be equally conſiſtent in Action and Beha⯑viour."’ For the Virtuoſo being only en⯑gaged in mere Speculation, hath no oppo⯑ſite Affections to counteract his Taſte: He [194] meets with no Obſtructions in his Admira⯑tion of Beauty: His Enthuſiaſm takes its unbounded Flight, not retarded by any Im⯑pediments of a diſcordant Nature. But the Man of Virtue hath a different and more difficult Taſk to perform: He hath often a numerous Train of Paſſions, and theſe per⯑haps the moſt violent to oppoſe: He muſt labour through the ſurrounding Demands and Allurements of ſelfiſh Appetite: Muſt ſubdue the Sollicitations of every the moſt natural Affection, when it oppoſes the Dic⯑tates of a pure Benevolence. Hence even ſuppoſing the moſt refined Taſte for Virtue common to all, it muſt ever be retarded in its Progreſs, often baffled and overthrown amidſt the Struggle of contending Paſſions.

THIS ſeems to be a full and ſufficient Reply to all that can be urged in Support of this fantaſtic Syſtem from a View of human Nature. But as the noble Writer hath at⯑tempted to confirm his Theory by ſome collateral Arguments of another Kind, it may be proper here to conſider their real Weight.

HE urges, therefore, the Probability at leaſt, if not the certain Truth of his Hypo⯑theſis from hence, ‘"That it would be an [195] Imputation on the Wiſdom of the Deity to ſuppoſe that he had formed Man ſo imperfect, that the true Happineſs of the Individual ſhould not always coincide with that of the whole Kind^h."’ And beyond Queſtion, the Aſſertion is true: But the Conſequence he draws from it, ‘"that therefore human Happineſs muſt always conſiſt in the immediate Feeling of virtu⯑ous Enjoyment,"’ is utterly groundleſs. This Inference ſeems to have been drawn from a View of the Brute Creation; in which, we find, Inſtincts or immediate Feel⯑ings are the only Motives to Action; and in which, we find too, that theſe immediate Propenſities are ſufficient for all the Pur⯑poſes of their Being. In this Conſtitution of Things the Creator's Wiſdom is emi⯑nently diſplayed; becauſe, through a Defect of Reaſon or Reflexion, no other kind of Principle could poſſibly have taken Place. But the Concluſion drawn from thence, ‘"that Man muſt have a ſimilar Strength of Inſtinct implanted in him, in order to di⯑rect him to his ſupreme Happineſs,"’ this is without Foundation: Becauſe the Deity hath given him not only preſent Per⯑ceptions, [196] but Reaſon, Reflexion, and a Fore⯑ſight of future Good and Evil, together with a ſufficient Power to obtain the one, and avoid the other. As therefore Man hath ſufficient Notices of the moral Government of GOD, which will at length produce a perfect Coincidence between the virtuous Conduct and the Happineſs of every Indivi⯑dual, it implies no eſſential Defect of Wiſ⯑dom in the Creator, to ſuppoſe that he hath not given this univerſal and unerring Biaſs towards Virtue to the whole human Species. Man is enabled to purſue and obtain his pro⯑per Happineſs by Reaſon; Brutes by Inſtinct.

AGAIN, the noble Writer often attempts to ſtrengthen his Argument, by ‘"repreſent⯑ing the external Good which naturally flows from Virtue, and the external Evils which naturally attend on Viceⁱ."’ But ſure this is rather deſerting than confirming his particular Theory; which is, to prove that Happineſs is eſſential to Virtue, and inſeparable from it: ‘"That Miſery is eſſential to Vice, and inſeparable from it."’—Now, in bringing his Proofs from Happineſs or Miſery of the external Kind, he ſurely deſerts his original Intention: Be⯑cauſe [197] theſe Externals are not immediate, but conſequential, not certain, but contingent: They are preciſely of the Nature of Reward and Puniſhment; and therefore can have no Part in the Queſtion now before us; which relates ſolely to ‘"that Happineſs or Miſery ariſing from the inward State of the Mind, Affections, and moral Senſe, on the Commiſſion of Vice, or the Practice of Virtue."’ And this hath been already conſidered at large.

HOWEVER, that nothing may be omitted which can even remotely affect the Truth; we may obſerve, in paſſing, that after all the laboured and well-meant Declamation on this Subject, 'tis much eaſier to prove, ‘"that Vice is the Parent of external Miſery, than that Virtue is the Parent of external Hap⯑pineſs."’ 'Tis plain, that no Man can be vici⯑ous in any conſiderable Degree, but he muſt ſuffer either in his Health, his Fame, or For⯑tune. Now the Generality of Moraliſts, after proving or illuſtrating this, have taken it for granted, as a certain Conſequence, that the external Goods of Life are, by the Law of Contraries, in a ſimilar Manner annexed to the Practice of Virtue. But in Reality the Proof can reach no further than to ſhew [198] the happy Conſequences of Innocence, which is a very different Thing from Virtue; for Innocence is only the abſtaining from Evil; Virtue, the actual Production of Good. Now 'tis evident indeed, that by abſtaining from Evil (that is, by Innocence) we muſt ſtand clear of the Miſeries to which we expoſe ourſelves by the Commiſſion of it: And this is as far as the Argument will go. But if we rigorouſly examine the external Conſe⯑quences of an active Virtue, in ſuch a World as this; we ſhall find, it muſt be often maintained at the Expence both of Health, Eaſe, and Fortune; often the Loſs of Friends, and Increaſe of Enemies; not to mention the unwearied Diligence of Envy, which is ever watchful and prepared to blaſt diſtin⯑guiſhed Merit. In the mean time, the in⯑noxious Man ſits unmoleſted and tranquil; loves Virtue, and praiſeth it; avoids the Miſeries of Vice, and the Fatigues of active Virtue; offends no Man, and therefore is beloved by all; and for the reſt, makes it up by fair Words and civil Deportment. ‘"Thus Innocence, and not Virtue; Ab⯑ſlinence from Evil, not the Production of Good, is the furtheſt Point to which Mankind in general can be carried, from [199] a Regard to the external Conſequences of Action."’

BUT whenever Appearances grow too ſtrong againſt the noble Writer's Syſtem, he takes Refuge in an—apage Vulgus!—As he had before allowed, that ‘"the Vul⯑gar may ſwallow any ſordid Jeſt or Buf⯑foonry,"’ ſo here he frequently ſuggeſts, that among the ſame Ranks, ‘"any kind of ſordid Pleaſure will go down."’ But ‘"as it muſt be a finer Kind of Wit that takes with the Men of Breeding,"’ ſo in Morals ‘"the Reliſh or Taſle for Virtue, is what na⯑turally prevails in the higher Stages of Life: That the liberal and poliſhed Part of Mankind are diſpoſed to treat every other Principle of Action as groundleſs and ima⯑ginary: But that among theſe, the Taſte in Morals, if properly cultivated, muſt needs be ſufficient for all the Purpoſes of Virtue^k."’

IN reply to this, which is perhaps the weakeſt Pretence of all that the noble Wri⯑ter hath alledged, we need only obſerve, that thoſe who are born to Honours, Power, and Fortune, come into the World with the [200] ſame various Mixture and Predominancy of Senſe, Imagination, and Affections, with the loweſt Ranks of Mankind. So that if they really enjoy better Opportunities of being compleatly virtuous, theſe muſt ariſe not from their internal Conſtitution, but their external Situation in Life. Let us examine how far this may give a Biaſs either towards Vice or Virtue.

NOW 'tis plain that, with regard to the Senſes or bodily Appetites, the Poſſeſſion of Power and Fortune muſt be rather hurtful than favourable to Virtue. Wealth gives Opportunity of Indulgence, and Indulgence naturally inflames. Hence the Habits of ſenſual Inclination muſt in general be ſtronger in the Lord than the Peaſant: Therefore, as nothing tends ſo much to imbrute the Man, and ſink every nobler Affection of the Mind, as a ſervile Attendance on ſenſual Pleaſure; ſo in this Regard, the Poſſeſſion of Power and Fortune is rather dangerous than ſavourable to Virtue.

THE ſame may be affirmed in reſpect to the Paſſions or Affections. Can any thing tend ſo much to render any Paſſion ungo⯑vernable, as to know that we need not go⯑vern it? That our Power, Riches, and Au⯑thority, [201] raiſe us above Controul? That we can hate, oppreſs, revenge, with Impunity? Are not the Great, of all others, moſt ob⯑noxious to Flattery? Does not this tend to produce and nouriſh an overweening Opinion of themſelves, an unjuſt Contempt of others? And is not true Virtue more likely to be loſt than improved, amidſt all theſe ſurrounding Temptations?

THE Imagination indeed is often refined, and Reaſon improved, in the higher Ranks of Life, beyond the Reach of the mere Vul⯑gar. But they are little acquainted with human Nature, who think that Reaſon and Imagination, among the Bulk of Mankind, are any thing more than the Miniſters of the ruling Appetites and Paſſions: Eſpecially where the Appetites and Paſſions are in⯑flamed by the early and habitual Poſſeſſion of Honours, Power, and Riches.

BUT ſtill it will be urged, that the Great are under the Dominion of a powerful Prin⯑ciple, which is almoſt unknown among the Vulgar:—The Principle of HONOUR—which is a perfect Balance againſt all theſe ſurrounding Difficulties, and a full Security to Virtue.

[202] WITH regard to this boaſted Principle, a very material Diſtinction muſt be made. By Honour, is ſometimes meant ‘"an Af⯑fection of Mind determining the Agent to the Practice of what is right, without any Dependence on other Men's Opi⯑nions."’ Now this is but the moral Senſe, under a new Appellation: It ariſeth too, not from any particular Situation of Life, but from the natural Conſtitution of the Mind. Accordingly, it is not confined to any one Rank of Men, but is ſeen promiſcu⯑ouſly among the Great and Vulgar. 'Tis therefore entirely beyond the preſent Que⯑ſtion, which only relates to ſuch Circum⯑ſtances as are peculiar to high Life.

THE other, and more common Accep⯑tation of the Word Honour, and in which alone it belongs peculiarly to the Great, is ‘"an Affection of the Mind determining the Agent to ſuch a Conduct, as may gain him the Applauſe or Eſteem of thoſe whoſe good Opinion he is fond of."’ Now this Love of Fame, and Fear of Diſgrace, though, as a ſecondary Motive to Action, it be often of the higheſt Conſequence in Life; though it often counterfeits, ſome⯑times even rivals Benevolence itſelf; yet as [203] a principal Motive, there cannot be a more precarious Foundation of Virtue. For the Effects of this Principle will always depend on the Opinions of others: It will always take its particular Complexion from theſe, and muſt always vary with them. Thus 'tis a Matter of mere Accident, whether its Conſequences be good or bad, wholeſome or pernicious. If the applanded Maxims be founded in Benevolence, the Principle will ſo far lead to Virtue: If they be founded in Pride, Folly, or Contempt, the Principle will lead to Vice. And, without any deſigned Satire on the Great, it muſt be owned, the latter of theſe hath ever been the predomi⯑nant Character of Honour. It were falſe indeed to affirm, that the Principle hath no Mixture of benevolent Intention; yet 'tis equally clear, that its chief Deſign is not ſo much to ſecure the Happineſs of all, as to maintain the Superiority of a few: And hence this Principle hath ever led its Vota⯑ries to abhor the Commiſſion, not ſo much of what is unjuſt, as of what is contemptible. Thus it is clear, that the Principle of Ho⯑nour, as diſtinguiſhed from benevolent Af⯑fection and the moral Senſe, can never be a [204] ſufficient Foundation for the uniform Prac⯑tice of Virtue.

THESE are the main Arguments by which the noble Writer hath attempted to ſupport this imagined All-ſufficiency of the Reliſh or Taſte in Morals. Had human Nature been indeed that uniform and noble Thing, which he ſeems to have thought it, he had ſurely been right in fixing the Obligations of Man to Virtue, on ſo generous and amiable a Principle. But as on Examination it ap⯑pears, that he hath all along ſuppoſed this human Nature to be what it is not, his Syſtem is viſionary and groundleſs; and his applauded Theory only fit to find a Place with the boaſted Power of the great old Geometer, when he ſaid— [...] ^l.

MOST full indeed and clear to this pur⯑poſe are the Words of the noble Writer himſelf: Who, in his miſcellaneous Capa⯑city, and in a merry Mood, ſeems to have ſpoken more of Truth, than I believe he would care to ſtand to.—‘"Such has been of late our dry Taſk. No wonder if it carries, indeed, a meagre and raw Ap⯑pearance. [205] It may be looked on in Philo⯑ſophy, as worſe than a mere Egyptian Impoſition. For to make Brick without Straw or Stubble, is perhaps an eaſier Labour, than to prove Morals without a World, and eſtabliſh a Conduct of Life, without the Suppoſition of any thing living or extant beſides our immediate Fancy, and World of Imagination ^m."’

THESE Sallies might poſſibly have ſeem⯑ed difficult to account for, had not the no⯑ble Writer himſelf ſaved us the Labour of this Taſk. For he elſewhere tells us, that ‘"all ſound Love and Admiration is ENTHU⯑SIASM: The Tranſports of Poets, Ora⯑tors, Muſicians, Virtuoſi; the Spirit of Travellers and Adventurers; Gallantry, War, Heroiſm; all, all Enthuſiaſm! 'Tis enough: I am content to be this new EN⯑THUSIASTⁿ."’—And thus in another Place he deſcribes the Effects of this high Paſſion: That ‘"Enthuſiaſm is wonderfully powerful and extenſive:—For when the Mind is taken up in Viſion,—its Horror, Delight, Confuſion, Fear, Admiration, or whatever Paſſion belongs to it, or is uppermoſt on this Occaſion, will have ſomething vaſt, [206] immane, and, as Painters ſay, BEYOND LIFE. And this is what gave Occaſion to the Name of Fanaticiſm, as it was uſed by the Ancients in its original Senſe, for an APPARITION tranſporting the MIND^o."’

SECTION IX.

HAVING ſufficiently evinced the flimzy, though curious, Contexture of theſe Cobweb Speculations ſpun in the Cloſet, let us now venture abroad into the World; let us pro⯑ceed to ſomething applicable to Life and Manners; and conſider what are the real Motives, by which Mankind may be ſway'd to the uniform Practice of Virtue.

AND firſt, in Minds of a gentle and gene⯑rous Diſpoſition, where the ſenſual Appetites are weak, the Imagination refined, and the benevolent Affections naturally predomi⯑nant; theſe very Affections, and the moral Senſe ariſing from them, will in all the com⯑mon Occurrences of Life ſecure the Prac⯑tice of Virtue. To theſe fine Tempers thus happily formed, the inward Satisfaction of a virtuous Conduct exceeds that of every outward Acquiſition; and affords to its Poſ⯑ſeſſor [207] a more true and laſting Happineſs, than Wealth, or Fame, or Power can be⯑ſtow.

SECONDLY, Where the ſame Degrees of public Affection ſubſiſt, but ſtand oppoſed by ſenſual or ſelfiſh Paſſions of equal Vio⯑lence, even here the Agent may riſe to very high Degrees of Virtue, but not without the Aids of Diſcipline and Culture. Yet 'tis ob⯑ſervable, that the Virtues of ſuch a Temper are rather conſpicuous than conſiſtent: With⯑out ſome ſtrengthening Aſſiſtance, the Pro⯑greſs of the Mind towards Perfection is of⯑ten broke by the Sallies of diſordered Paſſion.

THERE is yet another Character, eſſen⯑tially different from theſe, but ſeldom diſtin⯑guiſhed, becauſe generally taken for the firſt. Many eſteem themſelves, and are eſteemed by others, as having arrived at the moſt conſummate Virtue, whoſe Conduct never merits a higher Name than that of be⯑ing innoxious. This is generally the Caſe of thoſe who love Retreat and Contemplation, of thoſe whoſe Paſſions are naturally weak, or carefully guarded by what the World calls Prudence. Now, as in the laſt mentioned Character, a Curb from Irregularity was re⯑quiſite, ſo here a Spur to Action is equally [208] neceſſary for the Support and Security of Virtue.

AS we deſcend through more common and inferior Characters, the internal Motives to virtuous Action grow leſs and leſs ef⯑fectual. Weak or no Benevolence, a moral Senſe proportionably dull, ſtrong ſenſual Ap⯑petites, a clamorous Train of ſelfiſh Af⯑fections, theſe mixed and varied in endleſs Combinations, form the real Character of the Bulk of Mankind: Not only in Cottages, but in Cities, Churches, Camps, and Courts. So that ſome ſtronger Ties, ſome Motives more efficacious are neceſſary, not only for the Perfection of Virtue, but the Welfare, nay, the very Being of Society.

'TIS not denied, nay, 'tis meant and in⯑ſiſted on, that among all theſe various Cha⯑racters and Tempers, the Culture of the be⯑nevolent Affections ought to be aſſiduouſly regarded. For though we have ſeen that the Deſign of introducing an univerſal high Reliſh or Taſte for Virtue be viſionary and vain, yet ſtill a lower, or a lower Degree may poſſibly be inſtilled. We have only at⯑tempted to prove, that the Capacity for this high Taſte in Morals is not univerſally or eſſentially interwoven with the human [209] Frame, but diſpenſed in various Degrees, in the ſame Manner as the Capacity for a Taſte in inferior Beauties, in Architecture, Paint⯑ing, Poetry, and Muſic.

TO remedy this Defect of unerring In⯑ſtinct in Man, by which he becomes a Crea⯑ture ſo much leſs conſiſtent than the Brute Kinds, Providence hath afforded him not only a Senſe of preſent, but a Foreſight of future Good and Evil.

HENCE the Force of human Laws, which being eſtabliſhed by common Con⯑ſent, for the Good of all, endeavour, ſo far as their Power can reach, by the Infliction of Puniſhment on Offenders, to eſtabliſh the general Happineſs of Society, by making the acknowledged Intereſt of every Individual to coincide and unite with the public Wel⯑ſare.

BUT as human Laws cannot reach the Heart of Man; as they can only inflict Puniſhment on Offenders, but cannot beſtow Rewards on the Obedient; as there are many Duties of imperfect Obligation which they cannot recognize; as Force will ſome⯑times defy, and Cunning often elude their Power; ſo without ſome further Aids, ſome Motives to Action more univerſally intereſt⯑ing, [210] Virtue muſt ſtill be left betrayed and deſerted.

Now as it is clear from the Courſe of theſe Obſervations, that nothing can work this great Effect, but what can produce ‘"an entire and univerſal Coincidence be⯑tween private and public Happineſs;"’ ſo is it equally evident, that nothing can ef⯑fectually convince Mankind, that their own Happineſs univerſally depends on procuring, or at leaſt not violating the Happineſs of others, ſave only ‘"the lively and active Be⯑lief of an all-ſeeing and all-powerful GOD, who will hereafter make them happy or miſerable, according as they deſignedly promote or violate the Happineſs of their Fellow-Creatures."’ And this is the Eſ⯑ſence of RELIGION.

THIS, at firſt View, ſhould ſeem a Mo⯑tive or Principle of Action, ſufficient for all the Purpoſes of Happineſs and Virtue. In⯑deed the Bulk of Mankind ſeem agreed in this Truth. Yet refining Tempers, who love to quit the common Tracks of Opi⯑nion, have been bold enough to call even this in Queſtion. Among theſe, the noble Writer hath been one of the moſt diligent: [211] It will therefore be neceſſary to conſider the Weight of his Objections.

TO prevent Miſinterpretation, it may be proper to obſerve, that Lord SHAFTESBURY ſometimes talks in earneſt of the Nobleneſs and Dignity of Religion. But when he ex⯑plains himſelf, it appears, he confines his Idea of it to that Part which conſiſts ſolely in Gratitude to, and Adoration of the ſu⯑preme Being, without any Proſpect of fu⯑ture Happineſs or Miſery. Now, though indeed this be the nobleſt Part, yet it is be⯑yond the Reach of all, ſave only thoſe who are capable of the moſt exalted Degrees of Virtue. His Theory of Religion therefore is preciſely of a Piece, with his Theory of the moral Senſe; not calculated for Uſe, but Admiration; and only exiſting in the Place where they had their Birth; that is, as the noble Writer well expreſſeth it, in a Mind taken up in Viſion.

HE ſometimes talks, or ſeems to talk, in earneſt too, on the Uſefulneſs of Religion, in the common Acceptation of the Word. With Regard to which 'tis only neceſſary to obſerve, that whatever he hath ſaid on this Subject I readily aſſent to: But this is no Reaſon why it may not be neceſſary to ob⯑viate [212] every thing he hath thrown out to the contrary, to prejudice common Readers againſt Religion, through the Vanity of be⯑ing thought Original. To invent what is juſt or uſeful, is the Character of Genius: 'Tis Folly only and Impertinence to broach Abſurdities.

FIRST, therefore, he often aſſerts, that ‘"the Hope of future Reward and Fear of future Puniſhment is utterly unworthy of the free Spirit of a Man, and only fit for thoſe who are deſtitute of the very firſt Principles of common Honeſty: He calls it miſerable, vile, mercenary: And compares thoſe who allow it any Weight, to Monkies under the Diſcipline of the Whip^p."’

IN Anſwer to theſe general Cavils (pro⯑bably aimed principally at Revelation) which are only difficult to confute, as they are vague and fugitive, let it be obſerved, firſt; that whatever can be objected againſt religi⯑ous Fear, holds good againſt the Fear of hu⯑man Laws. They both threaten the De⯑linquent with the Infliction of Puniſhment, nor is the Fear of the one more unworthy, than of the other. Yet the noble Writer [213] himſelf often ſpeaks with the higheſt Re⯑ſpect of Legiſlators, of the Founders of Society and Empire, who, by the Eſtabliſh⯑ment of wiſe and wholeſome Laws, drew Mankind from their State of natural Bar⯑barity, to that of cultivated Life and ſocial Happineſs: Unleſs indeed he ſuppoſes that ORPHEUS and the reſt of them did their Buſineſs literally by Taſte and a Fiddle. If therefore the juſt Fear of human Power might be inforced without inſulting or vio⯑lating the Generoſity of our Nature, whence comes it, that a juſt Fear of the Creator ſhould ſo miſerably degrade the Species? The religious Principle holds forth the ſame Motive to Action, and only differs from the other, as the Evil it threatens is infinitely greater, and more laſting.

FURTHER: If we conſider the religious Principle in its true Light, there is nothing in it either mean, ſlaviſh, or unworthy. To be in a Fright indeed, to live under the Sug⯑geſtions of perpetual Terror (in which, the noble Writer would perſuade us, the religi⯑ous Principle conſiſts) is far from an amia⯑ble Condition. But this belongs only to the Superſtitious or the Guilty. The firſt of theſe are ſalſely religious; and to the laſt, I [214] imagine the noble Writer's moſt zealous Admirers will acknowledge, it ought to be⯑long. But to the reſt of Mankind, the re⯑ligious Principle or Fear of GOD is of a quite different Nature. It only implies a lively and habitual Belief, that we ſhall be here⯑after miſerable, if we diſobey his Laws. Thus every wiſe Man, nay, every Man of common Underſtanding, hath a like Fear of every poſſible Evil; of the deſtructive Power of natural Agents, of Fire, Water, Serpents, Poiſon: Yet none of theſe Fears, more than the religious one, imply a State of perpetual Miſery and Apprehenſion: None of them are inconſiſtent with the moſt generous Temper of Mind, or trueſt Courage. None of them imply more than a rational Senſe of theſe ſeveral Kinds of Evil; and from that Senſe, a Determination to avoid them. Thus the noble Writer himſelf, when it anſwers a different Purpoſe, acknowledges that ‘"a Man of Courage may be cautious without real Fear^q."’ Now the Word Caution, in its very Nature, implies a Senſe of a Poſſi⯑bility of Evil, and from that Senſe a Deter⯑mination to avoid it: Which is the very [215] Eſſence of the religious Principle or the Fear of GOD.

AND as to the other Branch of religious Principle, ‘"the Hope and Proſpect of higher Degrees of future Happineſs and Perfection:"’—What is there of mean, ſlaviſh, or unworthy in it? Are all Mankind to be blown up into the Mock-majeſty of the kingly STOIC, ſeated on the Throne of Ar⯑rogance, and lording it in an empty Region of CHIMAERA's? Is not the Proſpect of Happineſs the great univerſal Hinge of hu⯑man Action? Do not all the Powers of the Soul centre in this one Point? Doth not the noble Writer himſelf elſewhere acknow⯑ledge this^r? And that our Obligations to Virtue itſelf can only ariſe from this one Principle, that it gives us real Happineſs? Why then ſhould the Hope of a happy Im⯑mortality be branded as baſe and ſlaviſh, while the Conſciouſneſs or Proſpect of a happy Life on Earth is regarded as a juſt and honourable Motive?

THE noble Writer indeed confeſſeth, that ‘"if by the Hope of Reward, be underſtood the Love and Deſire (he ought to have ſaid, the Hope) of virtuous Enjoyment, it [216] is not derogatory to Virtue."’ But that in every other Senſe, the indulged Hope of Reward is not only mean and mercenary, but even hurtful to Virtue and common Hu⯑manity: ‘"For in this religious Sort of Diſ⯑cipline, the Principle of Self-Love, which is naturally ſo prevailing in us (indeed?) being no way moderated or reſtrained, but rather improved and made ſtronger every Day, by the Exerciſe of the Paſ⯑ſions in a Subject of more extended Self-Intereſt; there may be reaſon to appre⯑hend leſt the Temper of this kind ſhould extend itſelf in general through all the Parts of Life."’

THIS, to ſay the beſt of it, is the very Phrenzy of Virtue. Religion propoſeth true Happineſs as the End and Conſequence of virtuous Action: This is granted. It propoſeth it by ſuch Motives as muſt in⯑fluence Self-Love, and conſequently hath given the beſt Means of procuring it. Yet, it ſeems, Self-Love being not reſtrained, but made ſtronger, will make Man kind miſs of true Happineſs. That is, by leading Self-Love into the Path of true Happineſs, Religion will inevitably conduct it to falſe; by commanding us to cheriſh our public Af⯑fections, [217] it will certainly inflame the private ones; by aſſuring us, that if we would be happy hereafter, we muſt be virtuous and benevolent, it will beyond Queſtion render us vile and void of Benevolence. But this Mode of Reaſoning is common with the noble Writer.

HOWEVER, at other Times his Lordſhip can deſcend to the Level of common Senſe; and proſecute his Argument by Proofs dia⯑metrically oppoſite to what he here ad⯑vanceth. For in proving the Obligations of Man to Virtue, after having modelled the inward State of the human Mind according to his own Imagination, he proceeds to con⯑ſider the Paſſions which regard ourſelves, and draws another, and indeed a ſtronger Proof from theſe.—He there proves^s the Folly of a vicious Love of Life, ‘"becauſe Life itſelf may often prove a Misfortune."’ So of Cowardice, ‘"becauſe it often robs us of the Means of Safety."’—Exceſſive Re⯑ſentment, ‘"becauſe the Gratification is no more than an Alleviation of a racking Pain."’—The Vice of Luxury ‘"creates a Nauſeating, and Diſtaſte, Diſeaſes, and conſtant Craving."’ He urges the ſame Ob⯑jections [218] againſt intemperate Pleaſure of the amourous kind. He obſerves that Am⯑bition is ever ‘"ſuſpicious, jealous, captious, and uncapable of bearing the leaſt Diſ⯑appointment."’ He then proceeds thro' a Variety of other Paſſions, proving them all to be the Sources of ſome internal or ex⯑ternal Miſery. Thus he awakens the ſame Paſſions of Hope and Fear, which, in a reli⯑gious View, he ſo bitterly inveighs againſt. Thus he exhibits a Picture of future Re⯑wards and Puniſhments, even of the moſt ſelfiſh Kind: He recommends the Confor⯑mity to Virtue, on the Score both of pre⯑ſent and future Advantage: He deters his Reader from the Commiſſion of Vice, by repreſenting the Miſery it will produce. And theſe too, ſuch Advantages and ſuch Miſeries, as are entirely diſtinct from the mere Feeling of virtuous Affection or its contrary: From the Conſiderations of Safe⯑ty, Alleviation of bodily Pain, the Avoid⯑ance of Diſtaſte, and Diſeaſes. Now doth not his own Cavil here recoil upon him? ‘"That in this Sort of Diſcipline, and by exhibiting ſuch Motives as theſe, the Prin⯑ciple of Self-Love muſt be made ſtronger, by the Exerciſe of the Paſſions in a Sub⯑ject [219] of more extended Self-Intereſt: And ſo there may be Reaſon to apprehend, leſt the Temper of this Kind ſhould extend itſelf in general through all the Parts of Life."’ Thus the Objection proves equally againſt both: In Reality, againſt neither. For, as we have ſeen, the Senſe or Proſpect of Happineſs, is the only poſſible Motive to Action; and if we are taught to believe that virtuous Affection will produce Happineſs, whether the expected Happineſs lies in this Life, or another, it will tend, and equally tend, to produce virtuous Affection. The noble Writer, therefore, and his Ad⯑mirers, might as well attempt to remove Mountains, as to prove that the Hope and Proſpect of a happy Immortality, can juſtly be accounted more ſervile, mercenary, or hurtful, than the View of thoſe tranſient and earthly Advantages, which his Lordſhip hath ſo rhetorically and honeſtly diſplay'd, for the Intereſt and Security of Virtue. In Truth, they are preciſely of the ſame Na⯑ture, and only differ in Time, Duration, and Degree. They are both eſtabliſhed by our Creator for the ſame great End of Happi⯑neſs. And what GOD hath thus connected, [220] it were abſurd, as well as impious, to attempt to ſeparate ^t.

THERE is yet another Circumſtance ob⯑ſervable in human Nature, which ſtill fur⯑ther proves, that the Hope of a happy Im⯑mortality hath no Tendency to produce ſelfiſh Affection, but its contrary. For let the ſtoical Tribe draw what Pictures they pleaſe of the human Species, this is an un⯑doubted Truth, ‘"that Hope is the moſt uni⯑verſal Source of human Happineſs: And [221] that Man is never ſo ſincerely and heartily benevolent, as when he is truly happy in himſelf."’ Thus the high Conſciouſneſs of his being numbered among the Children of GOD, and that his Lot is among the Saints; that he is deſtined to an endleſs Pro⯑greſſion of Happineſs, and to riſe from high to higher Degrees of Perfection, muſt needs inſpire him with that Tranquillity and Joy, which will naturally diffuſe itſelf in Acts of ſincere Benevolence to all his Fellow-Creatures, whom he looks upon as his Com⯑panions in this Race of Glory. Thus will every noble Paſſion of the Soul be awakened into Action: While the joyleſs Infidel, poſſeſſed with the gloomy Dread of Anni⯑hilation, too naturally contracts his Af⯑fections as his Hopes of Happineſs decreaſe; while he conſiders and deſpiſeth himſelf, as no more than the Beaſts that periſh.

THE noble Writer indeed inſinuates, that there is ‘"a certain Narrowneſs of Spirit, occaſioned by this Regard to a future Life, peculiarly obſervable in the devout Perſons and Zealots of almoſt every reli⯑gious Perſuaſion^v."’ In reply to which, 'tis only neceſſary to affirm, what may be [222] affirmed with Truth, that with Regard to devout Perſons the Inſinuation is a Falſehood. It was prudently done indeed, to join the Zealots (or Bigots) in the ſame Sentence; becauſe it is true, that theſe, being under the Dominion of Superſtition, forget the true Nature and End of Religion; and are there⯑fore ſcrupulouſly exact in the Obſervation of outward Ceremonies, while they neglect the ſuperior and eſſential Matters of the Law, of Juſtice, Benevolence, and Mercy.

AND as to the Notion of confining the Hope of future Reward to ‘"that of virtu⯑ous Enjoyment only:"’ This is a Refine⯑ment parallel to the reſt of the noble Wri⯑ter's Syſtem; and, like all Refinements, contracts inſtead of enlarging our Views. 'Tis allowed indeed, that the Pleaſures of Virtue are the higheſt we know of in our preſent State; and 'tis therefore commonly ſuppoſed, they may conſtitute our chief Fe⯑licity in another. But doth it hence follow, that no other Sources of Happineſs may be diſpenſed, which as yet are utterly unknown to us? Can our narrow and partial Imagi⯑nations ſet Bounds to the Omnipotence of GOD? And may not our Creator vouchſafe us ſuch Springs of yet untaſted Bliſs, as ſhall [223] exceed even the known Joys of Virtue, as far as theſe exceed the Gratifications of Senſe? Nay, if we conſider, what is gene⯑rally believed, that our Happineſs will ariſe from an Addition of new and higher Facul⯑ties; that in the preſent Life, the Exerciſe of Virtue itſelf ariſeth often from the Imper⯑fection of our State; if we conſider theſe Things, it ſhould ſeem highly probable, that our future Happineſs will conſiſt in ſome⯑thing quite beyond our preſent Compre⯑henſion: Will be ‘"ſuch as Eye hath not ſeen, nor Ear heard, neither hath it en⯑tered into the Heart of Man to conceive."’

SECTION X.

BUT beyond theſe Objections, the no⯑ble Writer hath more than once touched upon another, which merits a particular Conſideration. For he affirms, that ‘"after all, 'tis not merely what we call Princi⯑ple, but a Taſte, which governs Men."’ That ‘"even Conſcience, ſuch as is owing to religious Diſcipline, will make but a ſlight Figure, where this Taſte is ſet amiſs^w."’

[224] THE Notion here advanced is not pecu⯑liar to himſelf. He ſeems to have drawn it from a much more conſiderable Writer, who hath endeavoured to ſupport the ſame Propoſition by a great Variety of Examples^x. Several Authors of inferior Rank have bor⯑rowed the ſame Topic, for popular Decla⯑mation. Nay, one hath gone ſo far as to aſſert, ‘"that Man is ſo unaccountable a Creature, as to act moſt commonly againſt his Principle^y."’

THE Objection, indeed, carries an Ap⯑pearance of Force: Yet on a near Exami⯑nation it entirely vaniſheth.

IT muſt be owned, that in moſt Coun⯑tries, a conſiderable Part of what is called Religion, deſerves no other Name than that of Abſurdity made ſacred. And it were ſtrange indeed, ſhould Bigotry and falſe Re⯑ligion produce that Uprightneſs of Heart, that Perfection of Morals, which is the ge⯑nuine Effect of Truth.

IT muſt be owned, that with Regard to religious Principle, as well as moral Prac⯑tice, every Man has the Power of being a Hypocrite. That Knaves, in order to be [225] accounted honeſt, may appear devout. And we may reaſonably ſuppoſe, if we conſider the innumerable Artifices of Villainy, that the outward Profeſſion of Religion becomes a frequent Diſguiſe to an atheiſtical and cor⯑rupted Heart.

BUT though theſe Circumſtances may ſufficiently account for the Appearance in many particular Caſes, yet, with Regard to the general Fact, here ſeems to lie the pro⯑per Solution of the Difficulty. ‘"That even where true Religion is known, profeſſed, and in Speculation aſſented to, it is ſeldom ſo thoroughly inculcated as to become a Principle of Action."’ We have ſeen that Imagination is the univerſal Inſtrument of human Action; that no Paſſion can be ſtrongly excited in the Soul by mere Know⯑ledge or Aſſent, till the Imagination hath formed to itſelf ſome kind of Picture or Repreſentation of the Good or Evil appre⯑hended^z. Now the Senſes and their attend⯑ant Paſſions are continually urging their Demands, through the immediate Preſence of their reſpective Objects: So that nothing but the vivid Image of ſome greater Good or Evil in Futurity can poſſibly reſiſt and [226] overbalance their Sollicitations. The Idea therefore of future Happineſs and Miſery muſt be ſtrongly impreſſed on the Imagi⯑nation, ere they can work their full Effects, becauſe they are diſtant and unſeen: But this Habit of Reflexion is ſeldom properly fixed by Education; and thus for want of a pro⯑per Impreſſion, ‘"religious Principle is ſel⯑dom gained, and therefore ſeldom ope⯑rates."’

BUT where a ſincere and lively Impreſſion takes Place; where the Mind is convinced of the Being of a GOD; that he is, and is a Rewarder of them that diligently ſeek him; where the Imagination hath gained a Habit of connecting this great Truth with every Thought, Word, and Action; there it may be juſtly affirmed, that Piety and Virtue can⯑not but prevail. To ſay, in a Caſe of this Nature, that Man will not act according to his Principle, is to contradict the full Evi⯑dence of known Facts. We ſee how true Mankind commonly are to their Principle of Pride, or miſtaken Honour; how true to their Principle of Avarice, or miſtaken Intereſt; how true to their Principle, of a Regard to human Laws. Why are they ſo? Becauſe they have ſtrongly and habi⯑tually [227] connected theſe Principles in their Imagination with the Idea of their own Happineſs. Therefore, whenever the reli⯑gious Principle becomes in the ſame Man⯑ner habitually connected in the Imagination, with the Agent's Happineſs; that is, when⯑ever the religious Principle takes Place at all, it muſt needs become infinitely more powerful than any other; becauſe the Good it promiſeth, and the Evil it threatens, are infinitely greater and more laſting. Hence it appears, that the Corruption of Mankind, even where the pureſt Religion is profeſſed, and in Theory aſſented to, doth not ariſe from the Weakneſs of religious Principle, but the Want of it.

AND indeed on other Occaſions, and to ſerve different Purpoſes, the noble Writer and his Partiſans can allow and give Exam⯑ples of all that is here contended for. No⯑thing is ſo common among theſe Gentle⯑men, as to declaim againſt the terrible Ef⯑fects of prieſtly Power. 'Tis their favourite Topic, to repreſent Mankind as groaning under the Tyranny of the ſacred Order. Now what does this Repreſentation imply, but ‘"the Force of religious Principle im⯑properly directed?"’ If Mankind can be [228] ſwayed by religious Hope and Fear, to re⯑ſign their Paſſions and Intereſts to the Arti⯑fice, or Advantage of the Prieſt, why not to the Benefit of Mankind? 'Tis only impreſ⯑ſing a different Idea of Duty: The Motive to Action is in both Caſes the ſame, and conſequently muſt be of equal Efficacy. Thus if religious Principle were void of Force, the Prieſthood muſt be void of Power. The Influence therefore of the Prieſthood, however diſhoneſtly applied, is a Demonſtration of the Force of religious Principle.

This therefore ſeems to be the Truth. Although, by timely and continued Cul⯑ture, the religious Principle might be made more univerſally predominant; yet even as it is, though not ſo thoroughly inculcated as to become generally a conſiſtent Princi⯑ple of Action; in Fact it hath a frequent and conſiderable, though partial and imper⯑fect Influence. None but the thoroughly Good and Bad act on continued or con⯑ſiſtent Principles; all the intermediate De⯑grees of Good and Bad act at different Times on various and inconſiſtent Princi⯑ples; that is, their Imaginations are by turns given up to Impreſſions of a different, or [229] even contrary Nature. This explains the whole Myſtery: For, hence it appears that the conſiſtent or inconſiſtent Conduct of Men depends not on the Nature of their Principles, but on having their Principles, whatever they are, counteracted by oppoſite ones. Although therefore, through a Fai⯑lure of timely Diſcipline, Numbers of Men appear to be of that capricious Temper as not to be ſteddy to any Principle, yet ſtill the religious one will mix with the reſt, and naturally prevail in its Turn. This is cer⯑tainly a common Circumſtance among the looſer and more inconſiderate Ranks of Men; who, although by no Means uniformly ſwayed by the Precepts of Religion, are yet frequently ſtruck with Horror at the Thought of Actions peculiarly vile, and deterred by the Apprehenſion of an all-ſeeing GOD from the Commiſſion of Crimes uncommonly atrocious.

HERE then lies the eſſential Difference between the Efficacy of Taſte, and religious Principle: That the firſt, being a Feeling or Perception diſpenſed in various Degrees, and in very weak ones to the Bulk of Man⯑kind, is incapable, even through the moſt aſſiduous Culture, of becoming an univerſal [230] or conſiſtent Motive to Virtue: But the re⯑ligious Principle, ariſing from ſuch Paſſions as are common to the whole Species, muſt, if properly inculcated, univerſally prevail.

'Tis evident therefore, that in the very firſt Dawns of Reaſon, religious Principles ought to be impreſſed on the Minds of Chil⯑dren; and this early Culture continued through the ſucceeding Stages of Life. But as the noble Writer hath ſtrangely at⯑tempted to ridicule and diſhonour Religion in every Shape; ſo here, he hath endea⯑voured to throw an Odium on this Method of religious Diſcipline, by repreſenting it as the Enemy to true Morals and practical Phi⯑loſophy, as it fetters the Mind with early Prejudices. ‘"Whatever Manner in Phi⯑loſophy happens to bear the leaſt Reſem⯑blance to that of Catechiſm, cannot, I am perſuaded, of itſelf ſeem very inviting. Such a ſmart Way of queſtioning our⯑ſelves in our Youth, has made our Man⯑hood more averſe to the expoſtulatory Diſ⯑cipline: And though the metaphyſical Points of our Belief, are by this Method with admirable Care and Caution inſtilled into tender Minds; yet the Manner of this anticipating Philoſophy may make [231] the After-work of Reaſon, and the in⯑ward Exerciſe of the Mind at a riper Age, proceed the more heavily, and with greater Reluctance.—'Tis hard, after having by ſo many pertinent Interroga⯑tories and deciſive Sentences, declared who and what we are; to come leiſurely in another, to enquire concerning our real Self and End, the Judgment we are to make of Intereſt, and the Opinion we ſhould have of Advantage and Good: Which is what muſt neceſſarily determine us in our Conduct, and prove the leading Principle of our Lives^a."’

IN reply to this moſt philoſophical Para⯑graph, let it be obſerved; that it is not the Deſign of Religion to make Sophiſts, but good Subjects of Mankind. That Man be⯑ing deſigned, not for Speculation, but Action, religious Principle is not to be inſtilled in a philoſophical, but a moral View: Therefore with Regard to Practice, nothing can be more fit and rational than to impreſs ac⯑knowledged Truths at an Age when the Re⯑cipient is incapable of their Demonſtrations; in the ſame Manner as we teach the Me⯑chanic [232] to work on Geometric Principles, while the Proofs are unknown to him.

BUT then, the Prejudices of Education—yes, theſe are the great Stumbling-block to a modern Free-thinker: It ſtill runs in his Head, that all Mankind are born to diſpute de omni ſcibili ^b. Let therefore this mi⯑nute Philoſopher reflect, firſt, that a Preju⯑dice doth not imply, as is generally ſup⯑poſed, the Falſehood of the Opinion inſtilled; but only that it is taken up and held with⯑out its proper Evidence. Thus a Child may be prejudiced in Favour of Truth, as well as Falſehood; and in him neither the one nor the other can properly be called more than an Opinion. Further: The human Mind cannot remain in a State of Indifference, with regard either to Opinion or Practice: 'Tis of an active Nature; and, like a fertile Field, if by due Cultivation it be not made to produce good Fruit, will certainly ſpring up in Tares and Thiſlles. Impreſſions, Opi⯑nions, Prejudices, of one kind or other a Child will inevitably contract, from the Things and Perſons that ſurround him: And if rational Habits and Opinions be not infuſed, in order to anticipate Abſurdities; [233] Abſurdities will riſe, and anticipate all ra⯑tional Habits and Opinions. His Reaſon and his Paſſions will put themſelves in Action, however untoward and inconſiſtent, in the ſame Manner as his Limbs will make an Effort towards progreſſive Motion, how⯑ever awkward and abſurd. The ſame Ob⯑jection therefore that lies againſt inſtilling a ſalutary Opinion, will ariſe againſt teaching him to walk erect: For this, too, is a kind of ‘"anticipating Philoſophy:"’ And ſure, a Child left to his own Self-Diſcipline, ‘"till he could come leiſurely to enquire con⯑cerning his real Self and End,"’ would ſtand as fair a Chance to grovel in Abſurdity, and bring down his Reaſon to the ſordid Level of Appetite, as to crawl upon all four, and dabble in the Dirt. Thus the noble Writer's Ridicule would ſweep away the whole Syſtem of Education along with the religious Principle: Not an Opinion or In⯑clination muſt be controuled, or ſo much as controverted; ‘"leſt by this anticipating Philoſophy, the Work of Reaſon, and the inward Exerciſe of the Mind, at a riper Age, ſhould proceed the more heavily, and with greater Reluctance."’ The Ca⯑price of Inſancy muſt rule us, till the very [234] Capacity of Improvement ſhould be de⯑ſtroyed; and we muſt turn Savages, in order to be made perfect in the ſovereign Philo⯑ſophy!

'TIS no difficult Matter therefore to de⯑termine, whether a Child ſhould be left to the Follies of his own weak Underſtanding and naſcent Paſſions; be left to imbibe the Maxims of corrupt Times and Manners; Maxims which, ſetting aſide all Regard to their ſpeculative Truth or Falſehood, do lead to certain Miſery; or, on the other hand, ſhall be happily conducted to embrace thoſe religious Principles, which have had the Approbation of the beſt and wiſeſt Men in every Age and Nation; and which are known and allowed to be the only Means of true Happineſs to Individuals, Families, and States.

THIS therefore ought to be the early and principal Care of thoſe who have the Tui⯑tion of Youth: And they will ſoon find the happy Effects of their Inſtruction. For as the Child's Underſtanding ſhall improve, what was at firſt inſtilled only as an Opinion, will by Degrees be embraced as Truth: Reaſon will then aſſume her juſt Empire; and the great, univerſal, religious Principle, [235] a rational Obedience to the Will of GOD, will raiſe him to his utmoſt Capacity of moral Perfection; will be a wide and firm Foundation, on which the whole Fabric of Virtue may riſe in its juſt Proportions; will extend and govern his Benevolence and moral Senſe; will ſtrengthen them, if weak; will confirm them, if ſtrong; will ſupply their Want, if naturally defective: In fine, will direct all his Paſſions to their proper Objects and Degrees; and, as the great Maſter-ſpring of Action, at once promote and regulate every Movement of his Heart.

IT muſt be owned, the noble Writer's Caution againſt this ‘"anticipating Philo⯑ſophy"’ hath of late been deeply imbibed. In Conſequence of it, we have ſeen religious Principle declaimed againſt, ridiculed, la⯑mented. The Effect of this hath been, an abandoned Degree of Villainy in one Claſs of Mankind; a lethargic Indifference to⯑wards Virtue or Vice in another; and in the third, which boaſt the Height of mo⯑dern Virtue, we ſeldom ſee more than the firſt natural Efforts, the mere Buddings of Benevolence and Honour, which are too generally blaſted ere they can ripen in⯑to Action. This Contempt of Religion [236] hath always been a fatal Omen to free States. Nor, if we may credit Experience, can we entertain any juſt Hope, that this fantaſtic Scheme, this boaſted Reliſh for Beauty and Virtue, can ever give Security to Empire, without the more ſolid Supports of religious Belief. For it is remarkable, that in the Decline of both the Greek and Roman States, after Religion had loſt its Credit and Ef⯑ficacy, this very Taſte, this ſovereign Philo⯑phy uſurped its Place, and became the com⯑mon Study and Amuſement (as it is now among ourſelves) both of the Vile and Vul⯑gar. The Fact, with Regard to Greece, is ſufficiently notorious; with Regard to Rome, it may ſeem to demand a Proof. And who would think, that QUINTILIAN in the fol⯑lowing Paſſage was not deſcribing our own Age and Nation? ‘"Nunc autem quae vel⯑ut propria philoſophiae aſſeruntur, paſſim tractamus omnes: Quis enim modo de JUSTO, AEQUO, AC BONO, non et VIR PESSIMUS loquitur^c?"—What was for⯑merly the Philoſopher's Province only, is now invaded by all: We find every wicked and worthleſs Fellow, in theſe Days, haranguing on VIRTUE, BEAUTY, and GOOD."’ What [237] this Leproſy of falſe Knowledge may end in, I am unwilling to ſay: But this may be ſaid with Truth, becauſe it is juſtified by Expe⯑rience; that along with the Circumſtance now remarked, every other Symptom is riſing among us, that hath generally attended the dark and troubled Evening of a Common⯑wealth.

DOUBTLESS, many will treat theſe Ap⯑prehenſions with Deriſion: But this De⯑riſion is far from being an Evidence of their Falſehood. For no People ever fell a Sa⯑crifice to themſelves, till lulled and infatuated by their own Paſſions. Blind Security is an eſſential Characteriſtic of a People devoted to Deſtruction. The Fact is equally un⯑deniable, whether it ariſeth from the moral Appointment of Providence, or the Con⯑nexion of natural Cauſes. Though this is ſeen and acknowledged by thoſe who are converſant with the Hiſtory of Mankind; yet 'tis hard to convey this Evidence to thoſe who ſeldom extend their Views beyond their own ſhort Period of Exiſtence; becauſe they ſee the Prevalence of the Cauſe aſſigned, while yet the pretended Conſequence appears not. But they who look back into ancient Time are convinced, that the public Effects [238] of Irreligion have never been ſudden or im⯑mediate. One Age is falſely polite, irreli⯑gious, and vile; the next is ſunk in Servi⯑tude and Wretchedneſs. This is analogous to the Operation of other Cauſes. A Man may be intemperate for twenty Years, be⯑fore he feels the Effects of Intemperance on his Conſtitution. The Sun and Moon raiſe the Tides; yet the Tides riſe not to their Height, till a conſiderable Time after the Conjunction of theſe two Luminaries. We cannot therefore juſtly decide concerning the future Effects of Irreligion, from its pre⯑ſent State. The Examples of former Times are a much better Criterion: And theſe are ſuch, as ought to make every Man among us, that regards Poſterity, tremble for his Poſterity while he reads them.

FOR this is but too juſt an Epitome of the Story of Mankind. That TYRANNY and SUPERSTITION have ever gone Hand in Hand; mutually ſupporting and ſupported; taking their Progreſs, and fixing their Do⯑minion over all the Kingdoms of the Earth; overwhelming it in one general Deluge, as the Waters cover the Sea. Here and there a happy Nation emerges; breathes for a while in the enlightened Region of KNOW⯑LEDGE, [239] RELIGION, VIRTUE, FREEDOM: Till in their appointed Time, IRRELIGION and LICENTIOUSNESS appear; mine the Foundations of the Fabric, and ſink it in the general Abyſs of IGNORANCE and OP⯑PRESSION.

POSSIBLY the fatal Blow may yet be averted from us. 'Tis ſurely the Duty of every Man, in every Station, to contribute his Share, however inconſiderable, to this great End. This muſt be my Apology for oppoſing the noble Writer's fantaſtic Sy⯑ſtem; which by exhibiting a falſe Picture of human Nature, is, in Reality an Inlet to Vice, while it ſeems moſt favourable to Vir⯑tue: And while it pretends to be drawn from the Depths of Philoſophy, is, of all others, moſt unphiloſophical.

SECTION I.

IN the Courſe of the preceding Eſſay, we have ſeen the noble Writer aſſum⯑ing the Character of the profeſſed Dog⯑matiſt, the Reaſoner in Form. In what re⯑mains to be conſidered, concerning revealed Religion and CHRISTIANITY, we ſhall find him chiefly affecting the miſcellaneous Capa⯑city; [242] the Way of Chat, Raillery, Innuendo, or Story-telling: In a Word, that very Species of the preſent modiſh Compoſition, which he ſo contemptuouſly ridicules; ‘"where, as he tells us, Juſtneſs and Accuracy of Thought are ſet aſide as too conſtraining; where Grounds and Foundations are of no Moment; and which hath properly neither Top nor Bottom, Beginning nor End ^a."’ In this, however, his Lordſhip is not quite ſo much to blame as might be imagined. In his Critical Progreſs, he had treated this diſhabille of Compoſition, as the Man in the Fable did his Pears; uncon⯑ſcious he ſhould be ever afterwards reduced to diet on them himſelf. The Truth of the Matter is, that the broken Hints, the ambiguous Expreſſion, and the Ludicro-ſerious of the gentle Eſſayiſt, perfectly ſecure him from the rough Handling of the Logical-Diſputer.

INDEED the noble Author has a double Advantage from this Cloud, in which the Graces ſo frequently ſecure their Favourite. He not only eludes the Force of every Ar⯑gument the Defenders of Chriſtianity alledge in it's Support, but even pleads the Privilege of [243] being ranked in the Number of ſincere Chriſ⯑tians. He takes frequent Occaſions of expreſſ⯑ing his Abhorrence of idle Scepticks and wicked Unbelievers in Religion: He declares himſelf of a more reſigned Underſtanding, a ductile Faith, ready to be moulded into any Shape that his ſpiritual Superiors ſhall preſcribe. At other Times, and in innu⯑merable Places, he ſcatters ſuch Inſinuations againſt Chriſtianity, and that too with all the Bitterneſs of Sarcaſm and Invective, as muſt needs be more effectual in promoting Irreli⯑gion, than a formal and avowed Accuſation. For in the Way of open War, there is fair Warning given to put Reaſon upon Guard, that no pretending Argument be ſuffered to paſs without Examination. On the con⯑trary, the noble Writer's concealed Method of Raillery, ſteals inſenſibly on his Reader; fills him with endleſs Prejudice and Suſpi⯑cion; and, without paſſing thro' the Judg⯑ment, ſixeth ſuch Impreſſions on the Imagi⯑nation, as Reaſon, with all its Effects, will be hardly able afterwards to efface.

THESE inconſiſtent Circumſtances in his Lordſhip's Conduct, have made it a Queſ⯑tion among ſome, what his real Sentiments were concerning Religion and Chriſtianity. [244] If it be neceſſary to decide this Queſtion, we may obſerve, that a diſguiſed Unbe⯑liever may have his Reaſons for making a formal Declaration of his Aſſent to the Re⯑ligion of his Country: But it will be hard to find what ſhould tempt a real Chriſtian to load Chriſtianity with Scorn and Infamy. Indeed, the noble Writer, to do him Juſtice, never deſigned to leave us at a Loſs on this Subject. For he hath been ſo good, fre⯑quently to remind his Reader, to look out for the true Drift of his Irony, leſt his real Meaning ſhould be miſtaken or diſregarded.

HERE then lies the Force of his Lordſhip's Attack on Chriſtianity; ‘"In exciting Con⯑tempt by Ridicule."’ A Method which, as we have already ſeen^b, tho' devoid of all ra⯑tional Foundation, is yet moſt powerful and efficacious in working upon vulgar Minds. Thus the Way of Irony, and falſe Enco⯑mium, which he ſo often employs againſt the bleſſed Founder of our Religion, ſerves him for all Weapons; the deeper he ſtrikes the Wound, the better he ſhields himſelf.

WE are not therefore to be ſurprized, if we find the noble Writer frequently affect⯑ing a Mixture of ſolemn Phraſe and low [245] Buffoonry; not only in the ſame Tract, but in the ſame Paragraph. In this Reſpect, he reſembles the facetious Drole I have ſomewhere heard of, who wore a tranſpa⯑rent Maſque: Which, at a Diſtance, exhi⯑bited a Countenance wrap'd up in profound Solemnity; but thoſe who came nearer, and could ſee to the Bottom, found the native Look diſtorted into all the ridiculous Grimace, which Spleen and Vanity could imprint.

SECTION II.

BUT as natural Religion is the only Foundation of revealed; it will be neceſſary, e'er we proceed to the laſt, to obviate any Inſinuations which the noble Writer may have thrown out againſt the Former.

AS to the Expectation of future Happineſs conſidered, as the natural Conſequence of virtuous Action; his Lordſhip hath not, that I know of, either aſſirmed, or inſinuated any thing againſt it's Reaſonableneſs. But with Regard to the other Branch of Reli⯑gion, ‘"the Belief of a future State of Miſery or Puniſhment, conſidered as the ap⯑pointed Conſequence of Vice,"’ this he [246] hath frequently endeavoured to diſcredit in ſuch a Manner, as would be no ſmall De⯑gree of Guilt to tranſcribe, were it not to ſhew at once the Impiety and Falſehood of his Affirmations.

IN his Letter on Enthuſiaſm, he hath ob⯑liged us with ſeveral Paſſages of this Kind. Theſe, it muſt be owned, are ſo obſcure, that we muſt be content, to refer them rather to the Reader's equitable Conſtruction, than urge them as direct Proofs.

THE Apprehenſion and Fear of ſome⯑thing ſupernatural, ſo univerſal among Man⯑kind, he ſeems all along to deride, as a viſionary and groundleſs Pannic ^c. He adds that, ‘"while ſome Sects, ſuch as the Py⯑thagorean and latter Platonick, joined in with the Superſtition and Ethuſiaſm of the Times; the Epicurean, the Academic and others, were allowed to uſe all the Force of Wit and Raillery againſt it^d."’ To convince us how much he approves the Conduct of theſe libertine Sects, he boldly follows their Example. He aſſures us that ‘"ſuch is the Nature of the liberal, po⯑liſhed and refin'd Part of Mankind; ſo far are they from the mere Simplicity of [247] Babes and Sucklings; that, inſtead of applying the Notion of a future Reward or Puniſhment, to their immediate Be⯑haviour in Society; they are apt much rather, thro' the whole Courſe of their Lives, to ſhew evidently, that they look on the pious Narrations to be indeed no better than Children's Tales, and the Amuſement of the mere Vulgarⁱ."’ He confirms theſe Opinions by aſſigning the Reaſon why Men of Senſe ſhould ſtand clear of the Fears of a Futurity: ‘"GOD is ſo good, as to exceed the very beſt of us in Goodneſs: And after this Manner we can have no Dread or Suſpicion to render us uneaſy; for it is Malice only, and not Goodneſs, which can make us afraid^k."’

IS this the Philoſopher and Patriot, the Lover of his Country and Mankind! This the Admirer of ancient Wiſdom, of venera⯑ble Sages, who founded ‘"Laws, Conſtitu⯑tions, civil and religious Rites, whatever civilizes or poliſhes Mankind^l."’

THIS, ſure, is unhinging Society to the [248] utmoſt of his Power: For the Force of re⯑ligious Sanctions depends as much on their being believed, as the Force of human Laws depends on their being executed. To de⯑ſtroy the Belief of the one therefore, is equi⯑valent to ſuſpending the other.

BUT as the preſent Debate concerns not the Utility, but the Truth of Religion; 'tis chiefly incumbent on us, to ſhew, that the noble Writer's Opinion and Reaſoning, on this Subject, are void of all Foundation.

'TIS obſervable therefore, Firſt, that his Lordſhip, in other Places, allows that ‘"If there be naturally ſuch a Paſſion as Enthu⯑ſiaſm, 'tis evident, that Religion itſelf is of the Kind, and muſt be therefore natural to Man^m."’ And in his Letter on Enthuſiaſm, even while he derides the Proneneſs of Mankind to the conſcientious Fear, he adds, ‘"that tho' Epicurus thought theſe Appre⯑henſions were vain, yet he was forced to allow them in a Manner innate:"—"From which Conceſſion, a Divine, me⯑thinks, might raiſe a goood Argument againſt him, for the Truth as well as Uſefulneſs of Religion."’ Now as ſome may poſſibly be at a Loſs to determine here, [249] whether the noble Writer be in Jeſt or Earneſt, the Argument he hints at is plainly this: That if we look round the Works of Nature, we ſhall find an Analogy eſtabliſh⯑ed, which ſeems a Proof, that this natural Fear which preſſeth ſo univerſally on the human Mind, hath a real and proportioned Object. The Argument hath been urged by many of great Name, in Favour of the Hope of future Good; and 'tis ſurely of equal Force, whatever that Force may be, when apply'd to the Fear of future Ill. For we ſee thro' the whole Creation, every Animal of whatever Species, directed by it's Nature or the Hand of Providence, to fear and ſhun it's proper and appointed Enemy. We find theſe Apprehenſions univerſally ſuited to the Nature and Preſervation of every Species among Birds, Beaſts, Fiſhes, Inſects. Nor is there one Fear, tho' ſome⯑times exceſſive in it's Degree, that is erroneous with Regard to it's Object. The religious Fear, therefore, which forceth itſelf ſo uni⯑verſally on the human Mind, in every Age and Nation, ignorant or knowing, civilized or barbarous; hath probably an Object ſuited to it's Nature, ordained for the Welfare of the human Species. At leaſt, this Argu⯑ment [250] muſt ever be of Weight with thoſe, who draw their Ideas of future Exiſtence from the Inſtincts, Hopes, and Expectations of the human Mind.

INDEED, on the noble Writer's refined Scheme of Morals, in which the natural Affections of the Mind are repreſented, as all-ſufficient for the Purpoſes of human Happineſs, this Argument muſt loſe it's Force; becauſe, on this Suppoſition, the re⯑ligious Fear is ſupernumerary and uſeleſs: But then this ſhews the Suppoſition itſelf to be monſtrous, abſurd, and contrary to the eſtabliſhed Courſe of Nature; becauſe Na⯑ture gives no Power or Paſſion, but to ſome proper and appointed End: The very Ex⯑iſtence of the Paſſion, therefore, is a Proof of it's Neceſſity.

NOW, if indeed the religious Fear be neceſſary, as, we preſume, hath been ſuffi⯑ciently proved in the preceding Eſſay; then, from hence will ariſe a ſtrong and convincing Proof, that the Object of reli⯑gious Fear is real. For we find thro' the whole Extent of created Being, that the Author of Nature hath annexed to all his Deſigns and Purpoſes, the proper Means or Objects, by which they may be fulfilled. [251] As therefore the religious Fear is not only interwoven with the Frame of Man, but abſolutely neceſſary to his Happineſs, it's Ob⯑ject muſt be real; becauſe, if not, you ſup⯑poſe the Creator to have given a NECESSA⯑RY Paſſion, without it's proper and appointed Object; which would be a Contradiction to the univerſal and known Conſtitution of Things.

ON this Occaſion, we may obſerve the Weakneſs of the Epicurean Syſtem, concern⯑ing Providence: For that Sect hath ever deny'd, that the Deity concerns himſelf with the moral Conduct of Man. But from the wiſe and benevolent Conſtitution of the natural World itſelf, a ſtrong Proof ariſeth in Support of GOD's moral Government of it, and of the Truth of the Fears and Ex⯑pectations of the human Mind. For if we allow that he regards and preſerves the natural Order and Symmetry of the Crea⯑tion; that he hath formed this immenſe Syſtem of Being, and ſecured it's Continu⯑ance and Welfare, by certain Laws, neceſ⯑ſary to the Happineſs of his Creatures; then we muſt on the ſame Foundation conclude, that he hath likewiſe eſtabliſhed ſuch Mo⯑tives and Laws of Action, as may determine [252] Man to proſecute the ſame End. It were an Imputation on the Wiſdom of the Deity, to conceive him as doing the one, and omit⯑ting the other: Unleſs Mind and Morals be leſs worthy of his Regard, than Matter and Motion.

BUT ſtill the noble Writer proceeds in the Spirit of Deriſion, to expoſe the Ab⯑ſurdities and Miſchiefs this miſguided reli⯑gious Principle hath occaſioned; he often expatiates on the ſuperſtitious Horrors, and ſurious Zeal which have had their Source in this Principle; and thence, in the Way of Inſinuation, concludes it irrational and groundleſs.

THE Facts, it muſt be owned, are no⯑torious and undeniable: But the Conſe⯑quence is no leſs evidently chimerical and vain. Lord SHAFTESBURY himſelf hath obſerved, that in Failure of a juſt Prince or Magiſtrate, Mankind are ready to ſub⯑mit themſelves even to a Tyrant: ‘"Like new-born Creatures, who have never ſeen their Dam, they will fancy one for themſelves, and apply (as by Nature prompted) to ſome like Form for Favour and Protection. In the Room of a true Foſter-Father and Chief, they will take [253] after a falſe one; and in the Room of a legal Government and juſt Prince, obey even a Tyrantⁿ."’ And hence he draws a ſtrong Proof of the Force of the ſocial or herding Principle, even from deſpotic Power itſelf. Again he hath remarked, that ‘"Heroiſm and Philanthropy are almoſt one and the ſame; yet by a ſmall Miſguidance of the Affection, a Lover of Mankind becomes a Ravager; a Hero and Deli⯑verer becomes an Oppreſſor and Deſtroy⯑er^o."’ 'Tis the ſame in Religion. Where the human Mind (ever reſtleſs in it's Search for the great Center of created Being, on which alone it can perfectly repoſe itſelf) ſeeks, but cannot find the true GOD, it naturally ſets up a falſe one in his Place: Here too, Mankind, ‘"like new-born Creatures, who have never ſeen their Dam, will fancy one for themſelves, and apply (as by Nature prompted) to ſome like Form for Favour and Protection. In the Room of a true Foſter-Father, they will take after a falſe one; and in the Room of an all-perfect GOD, worſhip even an Idol."’ The religious Principle, thus miſguided, breaks forth indeed, into Enor⯑mities [254] the moſt pernicious and deſtructive: Hence indeed, ‘"by a ſmall Miſguidance of the Affection, a Lover of Mankind be⯑comes a Ravager; a Saint, an Oppreſſor and Deſtroyer."’ But as from the Abuſe of the ſocial Principle, ſo here, in that of the religious one, no other Conſequence can be juſtly drawn, but that it is natural and ſtrong.

BUT further, the noble Writer finds the Notion of future Puniſhment, inconſiſtent with his Idea of divine Goodneſs. Therefore, ſays he, ‘"We can have no Dread or Suſ⯑picion to make us uneaſy: For it is Malice only, and not Goodneſs, which can make us afraid^p."’

YET, on another Occaſion, his Lordſhip can affirm, and juſtly, that, ‘"a Man of Tem⯑per may reſiſt or puniſh without Anger."’ And if ſo, why may not divine Goodneſs make us afraid? For as divine Goodneſs regards the greateſt Happineſs of all it's Creatures; ſo, if Puniſhment be neceſſary to that End, divine Goodneſs will therefore ORDAIN PUNISHMENT. To this Purpoſe, a Writer of diſtinguiſhed Rank and Pene⯑tration: ‘"In Reality, Goodneſs is the natu⯑ral [255] and juſt Object of Fear to an ill Man. Malice may be appeaſed or ſatiated: Humour may change: But Goodneſs is as a fixed, ſteady immoveable Principle of Action. If either of the Former holds the Sword of Juſtice, there is plainly Ground for the greateſt of Crimes to hope for Impunity. But if it be Goodneſs, there can be no poſſible Hope, whilſt the Reaſons of things, or the Ends of Government call for Puniſhment. Thus every one ſees how much greater Chance of Impunity an ill Man has, in a partial Adminiſtration, than in a juſt and up⯑right one. It is ſaid, that the Intereſt or Good of the Whole, muſt be the Intereſt of the univerſal Being; and that he can have no other. Be it ſo. This Author (Ld. S.) has proved that Vice is naturally the Miſery of Mankind in this World: Conſequently it was for the Good of the Whole, that it ſhould be ſo. What Shadow of Reaſon then is there to aſſert, that this may not be the Caſe hereafter? Danger of future Puniſhment (and if there be Danger, there is Ground of Fear) no more ſuppoſes Malice, than the pre⯑ſent Feeling of Puniſhment does^q."’

[256] THUS the noble Writer's Deriſion and Argumentation are equally chimerical and impious; as it appears, that the natural Fears and Expectations of the human Mind are at leaſt founded in Probability.

SECTION III.

HIS Lordſhip's Opinions being ſo little favourable to natural Religion, we cannot wonder, if we find him, on every poſſible Occaſion, throwing out Inſinuations and virulent Remarks, in Order to diſgrace re⯑vealed. The Firſt that will deſerve our Notice, are ſuch as tend to invalidate the Credibility of Scripture Hiſtory.

HE tells us, ‘"He who ſays he believes for certain, or is aſſured of what he be⯑lieves, either ſpeaks ridiculouſly, or ſays in Effect, he believes ſtrongly, but is not ſure: So that whoever is not conſcious of Reve⯑lation, nor has certain Knowledge of any Miracle or Sign, can be no more than ſcep⯑tick in the Caſe: And the beſt Chriſtian in the World, who being deſtitute of the Means of Certainty, depends only on Hiſtory and Tradition for his Belief of theſe particu⯑lars, is at beſt but a ſceptick Chriſtian^s."’

[257] NOW it ſhould ſeem, that the Dexterity of this Paſſage lies in a new Application of two or three Words. For, by ‘"certain and aſſured"’ he means more, by ‘"Scepticiſm"’ he means much leſs, than it is ever uſed to ſignify. And thus (as in Dr. Mandeville's Philoſophy already^t criticized) wherever we have not Demonſtration, 'tis plain we muſt needs be Sceptics.

BUT if indeed we muſt be Sceptics in revealed Religion, on this Account; the ſame Conſequence will follow, with Regard to every other Kind of Knowledge that de⯑pends on human Teſtimony. We muſt be Scep⯑tics too, in our Belief of every paſt Tranſ⯑action; nay of every thing tranſacted in our own Times, except only of what falls with⯑in the narrow Circle of our proper Obſer⯑vation. The Manners of Men, the Site of Countries, the Varieties of Nature, the Truths of Philoſophy, the very Food we eat, and Liquids we drink, are all received on the ſole Evidence of human Teſtimony. But what Name would he merit among Men, who in theſe Inſtances ſhould ſay, ‘"he does not believe for certain, or is not aſſured of what he believes",’ till in every Caſe he [258] ſhould be impelled by the Force of Demon⯑ſtration, or the Evidence of Senſe?

AND indeed, on other Occaſions, where Chriſtianity is not concerned, the noble Writer can ſpeak in a very different, and much juſter Manner. For thus he appeals to Nature, in Proof of the Wiſdom and Goodneſs of the Creator. ‘"Thus too, in the Syſtem of the bigger World. See there the mutual Dependency of things: The Relation of one to another; of the Sun to this inhabited Earth; and of the Earth and other Planets to the Sun! The Order, Union, and Coherence of the whole! And know, my ingenious Friend, that by this Survey you will be obliged to own the univerſal Syſtem, and coherent Scheme of things; to be eſtabliſhed on ABUNDANT PROOF, capable of convincing any fair and juſt Contemplator of the Works of Nature^u."’ His Lordſhip's Argument is ſurely juſt. Yet, is there one to be found among five Hundred of thoſe, who are thus convinced of the wiſe Structure of the Uni⯑verſe, who have ever taken a Survey of this immenſe Syſtem, except only in the Books and Diagrams of experienced Philoſophers? [259] How few are capable even of comprehend⯑ing the Demonſtrations, on which the Truth of the Copernican Syſtem is eſtabliſhed; or receiving, on any other Proof than that of human Teſtimony, ‘"the Relation of the Earth and other Planets to the Sun, the Order, Union, and Coherence of the whole?"’ It cannot be ſuppoſed, that even the noble writer himſelf ever went thro' the tedious Proceſs of Experiment and Calculation, which alone can give abſolute Certainty in this ex⯑tenſive Subject. Yet we find, he is not in any Degree, ‘"ſceptical in the Caſe;"’ but very rationally determines, that the Wiſdom of the Deity in ‘"this univerſal Syſtem, is eſtabliſhed on abundant Proof, capable of convincing any fair and juſt Contem⯑plator of the Works of Nature."’

IT appears then, that a Confidence in the Veracity of others is not peculiar to the Belief of revealed Religion: The ſame takes Place in almoſt every Subject. More par⯑ticularly, we ſee, that in the Hiſtory of Na⯑ture, as in that of Revelation, the Evidence of human Teſtimony is the only Sort of Proof that can be given to Mankind: And whoever allows this Proof, as being ‘"abun⯑dant and convincing"’ in the one, and diſ⯑allows [260] or deſpiſeth it in the other, how ſelf ſatisfied ſoever he may be in his own Imagi⯑nation, is neither a fair nor a juſt Contem⯑plator of the Works and the Ways of Pro⯑vidence.

IF therefore any Objection lies againſt the Credibility of the Scripture Hiſtory, it muſt conſiſt in maintaining, not ‘"that human Teſtimony is inſufficient to ſup⯑port it,"’ but ‘"that in Fact, it is not ſuffi⯑ciently ſupported by the Evidence of human Teſtimony."’ If ſo; this Defect muſt ariſe, either from a Want of External Evidence: Or Secondly, becauſe the Facts, Doctrines, and Compoſition of the Bible, are ſuch, that no Teſtimony whatever can con⯑vince us that it is a divine Revelation.

WITH Regard to the firſt of theſe, ‘"the Teſtimony on which the Authenticity of the Goſpel Hiſtory is founded:"’ This the noble Writer hath attacked by a long Chain of Inſinuations, in his laſt Miſcellany ^w. Where, in the Way of Dialogue, he hath indeed amply repaid the Treatment, which in the preceding Chapter he charges upon the Clergy. For here he hath introduced two of that Order, who, to uſe his own Ex⯑preſſion, [261] ‘"are indeed his very legitimate and obſequious Puppets, who cooperate in the moſt officious Manner with the Author, towards the Diſplay of his own proper Wit, and the Eſtabliſhment of his private Opinion and Maxims^x." "Where after the poor Phantom or Shadow of an Adverſary, has ſaid as little for his Cauſe as can be imagined, and given as many Opens and Advantages as could be de⯑ſired, he lies down for good and all; and paſſively ſubmits to the killing Strokes of his unmerciful Conqueror^y."’

TO theſe Gentlemen the noble Writer aſſigns the herculean Labour, of proving the Neceſſity of an abſolute Uniformity in Opi⯑nion. A hopeful Project indeed! as his Lordſhip calls it elſewhere. No Wonder he comes off Conqueror, in ſuch a Debate. But here lies the Peculiarity of his Conduct: That while he pretends only to prove, that the Scripture cannot be a Foundation for Uniformity of Opinion in all things; he hath thrown out ſuch Inſinuations, as evi⯑dently imply, that there can be no Founda⯑tion for believing the Truth of any thing the Goſpel Hiſtory contains. He ſays, he [262] began by deſiring them ‘"to explain the Word Scripture, and by enquiring into the Original of this Collection of antient⯑er and later Tracts, which in general they comprehended under that Title: whether it were the apocryphal Scripture, or the more canonical? the full or half-authorized? the doubtful or the certain? the controverted or uncontroverted? the ſingly read, or that of various Reading? the Texts of theſe Manuſcripts or of thoſe? the Tranſcripts, Copies, Titles, Catalogues, of this Church and Nation, or of that other? of this Sect and Party, or of another? of thoſe in one Age called Orthodox, and in Poſſeſſion of Power, or of thoſe who, in another, overthrew their Predeceſſor's Authority; and, in their Turn alſo, aſſumed the Guardianſhip and Power of holy things? For how theſe ſacred Records were guarded in thoſe Ages, might eaſily (he ſaid) be imagined, by any one who had the leaſt inſight into the Hiſtory of thoſe Times, which we called Primitive, and thoſe Charac⯑ters of Men, whom we ſtyled Fathers of the Church^z."’

[263] HERE, as his Lordſhip drags us into the beaten Track of Controverſy, the beſt Com⯑pliment that can be paid the Reader, is to carry him thro' it by the ſhorteſt Way. The ſtale Objections here raked together by the noble Author have been ſo often, and ſo fully refuted, by a Variety of excellent Writers, that, to many, it may ſeem a needleſs Taſk, even to touch upon the Subject^a.

HOWEVER, for the Satisfaction of thoſe who may think it neceſſary, a ſummary View of the Evidence is here ſubjoined,

THE Authenticity, therefore, of the Books of the new Teſtament, appears to be founded on the ſtrongeſt moral Evidence, becauſe from the earlieſt Ages, we find them aſcribed to the Apoſtles and Evangeliſts, whoſe Names they bear. Thus St PAUL's Epiſtles are mentioned by St. PETER, and cited by CLEMENS ROMANUS, who lived in the Reign of CLAUDIUS, even before St PAUL was carried Priſoner to ROME. PO⯑LYCARP and IRENAEUS were for ſome Time contemporary with St. JOHN: They both cite [264] the four Goſpels, and affirm they were all wrote by the Apoſtles and Evangeliſts, whoſe Names they bear. JUSTIN MARTYR and CLEMENS ALEXANDRINUS, confirm their Accounts in the following Century: And the great ORIGEN, with whom I ſhall cloſe the Catalogue, and who lived in the Reign of SEVERUS, in his Book againſt CELSUS hath cited all the Goſpels, and moſt, if not all the Epiſtles, under the Names they now bear: And the Words of the ſeveral Citations per⯑fectly agree with thoſe of the new Teſtament, now in Uſe. Such a full Proof of the Genuineneſs of theſe ſacred Records, as is not to be parallel'd, concerning any other Book, of equal or even of much leſs Anti⯑quity.

The internal Proof of their Genuineneſs, ariſing from their Style and Compoſition, is no leſs eminent and particular. The Genius of every Book, is ſo perfectly agreeable to the Character and Education of it's reſpec⯑tive Author; every Cuſtom deſcribed or alluded to, either Jewiſh, Greek, or Roman, ſo entirely ſuited to the Times; every Inci⯑dent ſo natural, ſo occaſional, ſo particular, ſo perfectly identify'd, that it were the very [265] extreme of Ignorance and Folly, to raiſe a Doubt on this Subject.

THAT the Goſpel-Hiſtory hath been tranſ⯑mitted to us, pure and uncorrupted, we have no leſs Reaſon to believe. 'Tis well known how zealous the primitive Chriſtians were in the Preſervation of the Scriptures: We know, they regarded them as their chief and deareſt Treaſure; and often laid down their Lives, rather than deliver the ſacred Records to their Enemies, who uſed every Art of Terror, to ſeize and deſtroy them. Again, the Scriptures were not then locked up from the Laity, as now in the Roman Church: But Copies were taken, diſperſed, and became immenſely numerous. They were univerſally read at the Times of pub⯑lic Worſhip, in different Nations of the World. To this we may add, that as now, ſo then, different Sects and Parties ſubſiſted, who all appealed to Scripture for Proof of their ſeveral Opinions; and theſe, 'tis evi⯑dent, muſt have been ſo many Checks upon each other, to the general Excluſion of Miſtake and Fraud^h.

[266] THIS being the real State of the Caſe; let us now conſider the noble Writer's Queſtions. He aſks, whether by Scripture be under⯑ſtood ‘"the apocryphal or more canonical? the full or half-authorized? the doubtful or the certain? the controverted or un⯑controverted?"’ Theſe Queſtions are nearly ſynonymous, and one ſhort Reply will clear them all. There are many Books, concerning which there never was any Doubt. There are ſome, concerning which the Doubts have been fully cleared up. There are others, concerning which the Doubts have been confirmed. Of the firſt Kind are all the Goſpels, and moſt of the Epiſtles: Of the ſecond, are the Epiſtle to the Hebrews, the ſecond of Peter, ſecond and third of John, that of Jude, and the Apocalypſe: Of the third Kind, are the apocryphal Books; therefore indeed ſo call⯑ed.

THE noble Author goes on. ‘"The ſingle read, or that of various Reading?"’ [267] My Lord, if by ſingle read you mean a Book in which there are no various Readings, there are none ſingle read: Nor, probably, was there ever any Book ſingle read, that went thro' more than one Edition: at leaſt, before the Invention of Printing. And as the Scriptures were oftener tranſcribed than any other Book, ſo, a greater Variety of of Readings muſt naturally take Place. But I muſt inform your Lordſhip, from the learned PHILELEUTHERUS LIPSIENSIS, that this is the moſt illiterate of all Cavils: For that in Fact, we have the Senſe of thoſe an⯑cient Authors moſt entire, where the vari⯑ous Readings are moſt numerous: As, of thoſe Authors where the Varieties are few⯑eſt, the Senſe is moſt mutilated or obſcureⁱ. But if by ſingle read, your Lordſhip means an authentic Text collected and compoſed out of the various Readings, I beg leave to inform you, there is no ſuch in the Proteſ⯑tant Churches. They have been too mo⯑deſt to attempt any ſuch Thing. Nor does the Truth ſuffer by it: For as the learned Critic, juſt before quoted, obſerves, the moſt faulty Copy of the new Teſtament now in [268] being, does not obſcure one moral Doc⯑trine or one Article of Faith.

AGAIN the noble Writer goes on, in a Profuſion of ſynonymous Terms: ‘"The Tranſcripts, Copies, Titles, Catalogues, of this Church or that? of this Sect or Party, or another? of thoſe in one Age called orthodox, or thoſe who in another Age overthrew them?"’ What unexperi⯑enced Perſon would not imagine from hence, that different Churches, Sects, or Parties, had each of them a Bible different from the reſt? Yet 'tis certain, that however theſe Parties differed in Opinions, we find from their Writings now ſubſiſting, that they all appealed to one common Scripture for their Support.

THE noble Writer takes his Leave by paying a Compliment to theſe primitive Writers called the Fathers of the Church. ‘"How theſe ſacred Records were guarded in thoſe Ages, might be eaſily imagined," &c.’—But to imagine, is a much eaſier Taſk than to prove; eſpecially when Ima⯑gination is helped forward by Inclination. Guarded indeed they were, as we have ſeen, from Interpolation and Falſhood. But if he means to inſinuate, that they were guard⯑ed [269] from Inſpection and Criticiſm, he does great Injuſtice to Chriſtianity. For what⯑ever Marks of ſecular Views may be diſco⯑vered in the Conduct of the ancient Chriſ⯑tians in the ſucceeding Ages, we may ſafe⯑ly bid Defiance to the noble Writer's Ad⯑mirers, to ſhew any thing of this Kind in the Characters of thoſe to whoſe Teſtimo⯑ny we have here appealed; and on whoſe Teſtimony, joined to that of their nume⯑rous and ingenuous Contemporaries, the Authenticity of the Goſpel-Hiſtory depends. They were far from acting or writing with a View to temporal Advantage; they were ſtruggling under the Weight of heavy Per⯑ſecutions; had no Motives to preach or write, but the great Expectation of Happi⯑neſs hereafter, founded on a firm Belief of that holy Religion, which they propagated with an Effect almoſt, if not indeed, miracu⯑lous.

ON this Occaſion I cannot but obſerve a ſtrange Inſinuation thrown out elſewhere by the noble Writer; which, however, is ſo glaring a Falſhood, that he finds himſelf obliged to diſavow it, even while he labours to impreſs it on his Reader's Imagina⯑tion, in all the Colours of Eloquence. ‘"If, [270] ſaies he, the collateral Teſtimony of other ancient Records were deſtroyed, there would be leſs Argument or Plea remain⯑ing againſt that natural Suſpicion of thoſe who are called Sceptical, that the holy Records themſelves were no other than the pure Invention or artificial Compile⯑ment of an intereſted Party, in Behalf of the richeſt Corporation, and moſt profita⯑ble Monopoly in the World^k."’ Now if his Lordſhip be indeed in earneſt in urging this Inſinuation, he muſt believe, that one Set of Men preached, and wrote, and en⯑dured Bonds and Impriſonment, Torments and Death; to the End that another Set of Men, ſome three or four Hundred Years after, might enjoy the rich Corporations and profitable Monopoly of Church Preferments. How far this may be a Proof of the noble Writer's Sagacity, I ſhall leave others to de⯑termine. But if he believes not the Inſinu⯑ation, as indeed he ſeems to diſbelieve it, then we cannot ſurely heſitate a Moment concerning the Meaſure of his Since⯑rity.

THE Gentleman therefore who makes ſo ridiculous a Figure in the ſuppoſed Con⯑verſation, [271] had he not been a poor obſequious Puppet, might have returned one general and ſatisfactory Anſwer to all theſe extraor⯑dinary Queſtions. He might have deſired his Lordſhip ‘"to chuſe which he ſhould like beſt or worſt among all theſe contro⯑verted Copies, various Readings, Manu⯑ſcripts, and Catalogues adopted by what⯑ever Church, Sect, or Party."’ Nay, he might have deſired him to chuſe any of the almoſt infinite Number of Tranſlations made of theſe Books in diſtant Countries and Ages: And taking that to be the Scrip⯑ture he appealed to, might ſafely have re⯑lied on it, as amply ſufficient for all the great Purpoſes of Religion and Chriſtianity.

SECTION IV.

SINCE therefore the Scripture Hiſtory appears to be ſupported by higher Degrees of human Teſtimony, than any other anci⯑ent Writing; the only Objections of real Weight againſt it, muſt be drawn from it's internal Structure: from the Facts it relates, the Doctrines it inculcates, or the Form of it's Compoſition.

THE Facts related, being as it were the Foundation of all, will naturally come firſt [272] under Conſideration. ‘"Now theſe, ſay the Enemies of Chriſtianity, are miracu⯑lous or out of Nature, and therefore ab⯑ſurd: For as they can prove nothing, ſo it is impoſſible that Accounts of this Kind could be ſo eſſentially mingled with a Religion that ſhould come from God."’

ON this Foundation the noble Writer hath taken frequent Occaſion to deride what he calls the ‘"Mockery of Miracles^l;"’ par⯑ticularly thoſe of our Saviour^m. Here we ſhall find him ſtriking at the very Baſis of all revealed Religion, while he aſſerts, that, even ſuppoſing the Truth of the Facts, ‘"Miracles cannot witneſs either for God or Men, nor are any Proof either of Divi⯑nity or Revelationⁿ."’ But that his Ar⯑gument may be fairly repreſented, let it appear in his own Words. ‘"The Con⯑templation of the Univerſe, it's Laws and Government, was (I aver'd) the only Means which could eſtabliſh the ſound Belief of a Deity. For what tho' innumerable Miracles from every Part aſſailed the Senſe, and gave the trembling Soul no Reſpite? What tho' the Sky ſhould ſuddenly open, and all kinds of Prodigies appear, Voices be heard, or [271] Characters read? What would this evince more, than that there was certain Powers could do all this? But what Powers; whether one or more; whether ſuperior, or ſubaltern; mortal, or immortal; wiſe or fooliſh; juſt or unjuſt; good or bad: This would ſtill remain a Myſtery; as would the true Intention, the Infallibility or Certainty of whatever theſe Powers aſ⯑ſerted ^o."’

'TIS remarkable, that the noble Writer pretends here only to ſhew, that Miracles are no Proof of the Exiſtence of God: Yet in the Concluſion of his Argument, he brings it home to the Caſe of Revelation: To ‘"the true Intention, the Infallibility or Certainty of whatever theſe Powers AS⯑SERTED."’ This is clearly the Scope of his Argument: And ſo indeed hath it been underſtood by his Under-workmen in Infide⯑lity, who have with great Induſtry retailed this Objection. As it is a Circumſtance of the laſt Importance in Regard to the Truth of Chriſtianity, it cannot be an unſeaſonable Taſk, to ſhew in the fulleſt Manner the Vanity and Error of this tritc Cavil.

BUT inſtead, of conſidering ſingle Acts of of ſupernatural or miraculous Power, as be⯑ing [272] performed in Atteſtation of any particu⯑lar Doctrine, (which hath been the general Way of treating this Queſtion) 'tis my Deſign to conſider as one Object, ‘"that vaſt Series and Concatenation of miraculous Acts, recorded in the Old and New Teſtament, wrought thro' a long Succeſſion of Ages, for the carrying on, Support, and Comple⯑tion of the Chriſtian Diſpenſation.’

WITH this View therefore let us firſt conſider the means by which Mankind are juſtly convinced of the Being of a God. Now this Conviction, 'tis allowed by all, ariſeth from a Union of Power, Wiſdom, ann Good⯑neſs, diſplayed in the viſible Creation. From this Union alone ariſes the Idea of an all-perfect Being: ſo that a Failure in any of theſe three eſſential Circumſtances would deſtroy the Idea of a God. The Goodneſs of the Deity is ſeen in the deſigned End or Purpoſe of the Creation, which is, ‘"The Happineſs of all his Creatures:"’ His Wiſdom is ſeen, in the proper Means employed for the Accompliſh⯑ment of this great End: His Power fulfills what Goodneſs had intended and Wiſdom contrived, by putting theſe Means in Ex⯑ecution. Hence then alone we obtain the Idea of a Divinity, from a Union of perfect Goodneſs, Wiſdom, and Power.

[273] 'TIS likewiſe, I think, acknowledged by all Theiſts, that, as to the divine Power, it may work it's Intentions, either by a con⯑tinued and uninterrupted Superintendency, or Agency on Matter, or by impreſſing certain original and permanent Qualities upon it. Which of theſe two Kinds of Operation may really prevail in Nature, is perhaps beyond the Reach of human Know⯑ledge, clearly to determine. The Newto⯑nian Philoſophy indeed renders it highly probable, that the continued Agency of God prevails. But a Determination in this Sub⯑ject is indeed of no Conſequence; ſince, which ſoever of theſe Methods be ordained, the divine Power is equally diſplay'd, while it miniſters to the Ends of Goodneſs and Wiſdom.

'TIS equally plain, that, if the divine Goodneſs ſhould determine to raiſe Man⯑kind to higher Degrees of Knowledge and Virtue, than what they could attain to by the pre-eſtabliſhed Laws of Nature; or to free them from Defects and Miſeries, occaſioned by any incidental and voluntary Corruptions, poſterior to their Creation; 'tis equally plain, I ſay, that an Exertion of ſupernatural Power for the Accompliſhment [274] of this End, would be a Diſplay, Proof, or Revelation of the Divinity, entirely ſimilar to that which ariſes from the Works of Nature. For both here, and in the Works of Nature, the Proof of the Divinity ariſeth, not from mere uniform Acts of Power, but from the Subſerviency of divine Power to this one great End, the Production of human Happineſs. Here then, the noble Writer's Objection is eſſentially defective: What he affirms is either falſe, or foreign to the Queſtion. For if we ſuppoſe (and the preſent Queſtion is put upon this Footing only) that the miraculous or ſupernatural Effects are evidently ſubſervient to ſimilar Ends of Wiſdom and Goodneſs, as appear in the Works of the Creation; then ſure, we have equal Reaſon to conclude, and be convinced, that they are the Effects of one Power;—of one ſuperior and immortal Power;—of one Power, wiſe, juſt, and good;—In a Word, of that Power which firſt brought Nature into Being, eſtabliſhed Laws for the Welfare of his Creatures; and when the Happineſs of his Creatures requires an Interpoſition, gives ſtill further Evidences of his Goodneſs, Wiſdom, and Om⯑nipotence, [275] by controuling thoſe Laws which himſelf had eſtabliſhed.

LET us now apply theſe Principles to the Chriſtian Diſpenſation. ‘"This, we ſay, was a Scheme of Providence, which ſtill continues operating; whereby the Deity determined to raiſe fallen and cor⯑rupted Man to higher Degrees of Know⯑ledge, Virtue, and Happineſs, than what by Nature he could have attained."’ In this Deſign, the divine GOODNESS is emi⯑nently diſplay'd.

THE Means, whereby this great Deſign was accompliſhed, was ‘"by ſeparating a peculiar People from the reſt of Man⯑kind; not for their own Sakes, but for the Sake of all; by preſerving them amidſt their Enemies; by leading them forth into a diſtant Country; by eſtabliſh-there the Worſhip of the one God, in Oppoſition to the Idolatries of ſurround⯑ing Nations: 'Till, when the Fulneſs of Time ſhould come, and Mankind be ca⯑pable of receiving a more perfect Reve⯑lation, a Saviour JESUS CHRIST ſhould be ſent, to free Mankind from the Power of Ignorance and Sin; to bring Life and Im⯑mortality to Light, and communicate to [276] all Men the moſt perfect practical Know⯑ledge of the true God, and of every moral Duty."’ In this Diſpenſation is no leſs eminently diſplayed the divine WISDOM.

BUT what leſs than Omnipotence itſelf could ſecure the perfect Execution of a Plan ſo mighty and extenſive? Which reaching thro' the Compaſs of many, and diſtant Ages, muſt combat the Power, controul the Prejudices, and work it's Way thro' the diſcordant Manners and Opinions of all the Kingdoms of the Earth. On this Account the immediate Exertion of divine Power was neceſſary for it's Proof, Support, and Completion. Accordingly, we find it's om⯑nipotent Author, carrying on this Scheme of Wiſdom and Goodneſs, with a mighty Hand, and an out-ſtretched Arm. ‘"He ſent a Man before his People, even JOSEPH, who was ſold to be a Bond-Servant: He increaſed his People exceedingly, and made them ſtronger than their Enemies. He ſent MOSES his Servant, and AARON: And theſe ſhewed his Tokens among them; and Wonders in the Land of Ham. He ſent Darkneſs, and it was dark; and turned their Waters into Blood. Their Land brought forth Frogs, yea, even in their [277] King's Chambers. He gave them Hail⯑ſtones for Rain, and Flames of Fire in their Land. He ſpake the Word, and the Locuſts came innumerable, and de⯑voured the Fruit of their Ground. He ſmote all the firſt-born in their Land, even the chief of all their Strength. He brought forth his People from among them: He ſpread out a Cloud to be a Covering, and Fire to give them Light in the Night-Seaſon. He rebuked the Red-Sea alſo, and it was dried up; ſo he led them thro' the Deep as thro' a Wilder⯑neſs. At their Deſire he brought Quails, and filled them with the Bread of Heaven. He opened the Rock of Stone, ſo that Rivers ran in dry Places.—Yet within a while they forgat his Works, and tempt⯑ed God in the Deſert: Then the Earth opened, and ſwallowed up Dathan, and covered the Congregation of Abiram. They joined themſelves unto Baal-Peor, and provoked him with their own Inven⯑tions; ſo the Plague was great among them: Then, being chaſtiſed, they turn⯑ed to their God. He led them over Jor⯑dan; the Waters divided to let them paſs. He diſcomfited their Enemies: At his [278] Word the Sun abode in the midſt of Heaven; and the Moon ſtood ſtill, and haſted not to go down for a whole Day. So he gave the Kingdoms of Canaan to be an Heritage unto his People; that all the Nations of the World might know that the Hand of the Lord is mighty, and that they might fear the Lord con⯑tinually."’

HRRE then we ſee, that this mighty Se⯑ries of miraculous Acts recorded in the Old Teſtament, being the very Means of preſerving and ſeparating the ISRAELITES from the reſt of Mankind, and at the ſame time deſigned to impreſs them with a laſting Idea of the un⯑controulable and immediate Power of God; were generally awakening Inſtances of Om⯑nipotence, often of Juſtice and Terror, in the Puniſhment of cruel EGYPTIANS, rebellious JEWS, and idolatrous Nations.

IN purſuing this vaſt Concatenation of divine Power thro' the Series of Miracles recorded in the New Teſtament, and wrought for the ſame End, the Completion of Chriſti⯑anity, we ſhall find them of a very different Nature and Complexion: Yet ſtill, admira⯑bly ſuited to accompliſh the ſame deſigned Ends of Providence. For now the Fulneſs [279] of Time was come, in which the Wiſdom of the Deity ordained the immediate Eſtabliſh⯑ment of a Religion of perfect Purity and boundleſs Love. Accordingly, the Series of miraculous Acts wrought for this great End, were ſuch as muſt naturally engage Mankind to a favourable Reception of Chriſtianity; were the very Image and Tranſcript, expreſſ⯑ed the very Genius of that moſt aimable Re⯑ligion they were brought to ſupport and eſta⯑bliſh; in a Word, were continued Inſtances of Omnipotence, joined with unbounded Cha⯑rity, divine Compaſſion and Benevolence.

THE Birth of JESUS was proclaimed by a glorious Apparition of ſuperior Beings, who declared the End of his coming in that divine Song of Triumph, ‘"Glory to God in the higheſt, and on Earth Peace, Good Will towards Men!"’ His Life was one continued Scene of divine Power, Wiſdom, and Beneficence. He gave Eyes to the Blind; Ears to the Deaf; and Feet to the Lame: He raiſed the Dead to Life, re⯑buked the raging Elements, and made the Winds and Seas obey him. When to ful⯑fill the Decrees of Heaven, and complete the great Work of Man's Redemption, he ſubmitted to an ignominious Death, the [280] Vail of the Temple was rent in twain: A general Darkneſs involved, and an Earth⯑quake ſhook, the City. The ſame Omni⯑potence by which he wrought his Miracles, raiſed him from the Grave; and after a ſhort ſtay on Earth, during which he ſtrengthened and confirmed his deſponding Followers, tranſlated him to Heaven. And now, a new and unexpected Scene of divine and miraculous Power opened on Mankind, for the full Eſtabliſhment of Chriſtianity. The Spirit of God came down, and dwelt with the Apoſtles; they were all filled with the Holy Ghoſt, and ſpake with other Tongues, as the Spirit gave them Utterance. They were inveſted with ſupernatural Power to heal Diſeaſes; were impowered to ſtrike dead the deceitful ANANIAS and SAPPHI⯑RA; and when impriſoned, were delivered by the immediate Hand of GOD. By theſe Means, Chriſtianity gained a numerous Train of Proſelytes among the JEWS; but the great Work of converting the Gentiles was not yet begun. To this End the Apoſtle PAUL was deſtined; and converted to Chriſtianity by an amazing Act of ſuper⯑natural and divine Power. In this impor⯑tant Miniſtry he was frequently preſerved [281] by the miraculous Care of Providence; did himſelf perform ſtupendous Acts of Power and Beneficence; by theſe Means convert⯑ing Multitudes among the Gentiles, and planting Chriſtianity in the moſt knowing and poliſhed Nations of the Earth.

TO this irreſiſtible Chain of Evidence, ariſing from the miraculous Exertion of divine Power, we may add another collate⯑ral Proof, ariſing from the miraculous Em⯑anations of divine Fore-knowledge, recorded in the Bible, and delivered in PROPHECY thro' a Series of Ages, all centering in the ſame Point, the foretelling the Completion of this immenſe Plan of Wiſdom and Good⯑neſs. Theſe Predictions were fulfilled in the Advent, Life, Death, and Reſurrection of our Saviour; who himſelf foretold the Succeſs of his Apoſtles among the Gentiles, and the final Diſſolution of the Jewiſh Po⯑lity. This came to paſs in the Deſtruction of the Temple: And when a bitter Enemy to Chriſtianity attempted to make void the Decrees of Heaven in rebuilding this Temple, (the only Circumſtance of Union that could ever make the JEWS once more a People) the very Foundations were rent in Pieces by an [282] Earthquake, and the mad Aſſailants againſt Omnipotence buryed in the Ruins.

FROM this mighty Union, therefore, ariſeth a Proof ſimilar to that which we ob⯑tain from the Works of Nature. For as in theſe we ſee the Happineſs of the Crea⯑tion intended, plann'd, and produced, and from hence diſcover the Agency of the Deity: So in the Progreſs and Completion of Chriſtianity we find a parallel Diſplay of the divine Attributes: We ſee the Advance⯑ment of Man's Happineſs determined by divine GOODNESS, plann'd by divine WIS⯑DOM, foretold by divine KNOWLEDGE, ac⯑compliſhed by divine POWER: and hence, as in Nature, obtain a full Manifeſtation, Proof, or Revelation of the DEITY.

AS this ſeems to be the true Light, in which the Evidence ariſing from the Scrip⯑ture-Miracles ought to be placed, it may be proper now to add a few Obſervations on what hath been offered on this Subject, both by the Defenders and the Adverſaries of Chriſtianity.

I. AS to the Degree of Proof or Evi⯑dence ariſing from a ſingle Miracle in Sup⯑port of any particular Doctrine; whatever Force it may carry, 'tis a Point, which we [283] are by no Means at preſent concerned to de⯑termine: Becauſe, as we have ſeen, in the Progreſs of the Chriſtian Diſpenſation, there is a vaſt Series or Chain, all uniting in one common End. It might be conſidered, in the ſame Manner, by thoſe who write in Proof of the Being of a God, ‘"What Evi⯑dence of his Being would ariſe from a ſingle Vegetable or Animal, unconnected with the reſt of the Creation."’ But how⯑ever ſatisfying a ſingle Fact of this Kind may be to impartial Minds, it were ſurely weak to argue on this Foundation only, while we can appeal to that mighty Union of Deſign which appears in the Works of Nature. It ſhould therefore ſeem, that the Defenders of Chriſtianity have generally ſet this Evidence in too detached and par⯑ticular a Light: For tho' the Proof ariſing from a ſingle Miracle, in Support of a par⯑ticular Doctrine may be of ſufficient Force to convince an equitable Mind; yet ſure, 'tis infinitely ſtronger and more ſatisfactory, if we view at once the whole Chain of Mira⯑cles, by which the great Scheme of Chriſti⯑anity was propagated, as one vaſt Object: Becauſe in this View, we diſcover innume⯑rable Circumſtances of mutual Relation and [284] Agreement, ſimilar to thoſe which are Proofs of final Cauſes in the natural World: In a Word, we diſcover that Union of Deſign, that Concurrence of infinite Goodneſs, Wiſ⯑dom, and Power, which is the ſure Indica⯑tion of the Divinity.

II. IF in a Diſpenſation thus proved to be from God by all theſe concurring Sig⯑natures of Divinity, any incidental Circum⯑ſtances ſhould be found, which are unac⯑countable to human Reaſon; 'tis the Part of human Reaſon to acquieſce in this myſterious and unknown Part, from what is clear and known. Becauſe in a Syſtem or Diſpenſa⯑tion planned by infinite Wiſdom, there muſt of Neceſſity be ſomething which finite Wiſdom cannot comprehend. This the noble Writer allows with Regard to the Works of Nature. ‘"If, ſaith he, in this mighty Union, there be ſuch Relations of Parts one to another as are not eaſily diſ⯑covered; if on this Account, the End and Uſe of Things does not every where ap⯑pear, there is no Wonder; ſince 'tis indeed no more than what muſt happen of Neceſſity. Nor could ſupreme Wiſdom have otherwiſe ordered it. For in an In⯑finity of things thus relative, a Mind [285] which ſees not infinitely, can ſee nothing fully ^f."’

III. HENCE therefore may be evinced the Vanity of this Cavil, ‘"that nothing can be proved to be a divine Revelation which is not diſcoverable by human Reaſon; ſince whatever is reaſonable needs no Miracle to confirm it, and whatever is beyond the Reach of Reaſon cannot be made to ap⯑pear reaſonable by any Miracle whatſo⯑ever^g."’ Hence, I ſay, the Vanity of this Cavil is evident. Becauſe, as in Nature, ſo in Revelation, the full Evidence of Di⯑vinity is founded, not on ſingle detached Circumſtances, but on a mighty Union or Concatenation of Facts, implying the moſt perfect Wiſdom, Power, and Goodneſs. This Foundation being once laid, if any thing in⯑cidental in either Caſe appears unaccounta⯑ble as to it's End or Uſe, it is naturally and properly involved, or taken in as a Part of this immenſe Deſign, which thro' it's vaſt Extent, muſt needs be incomprehenſible to human Reaſon.

IV. As to the Objection, ‘"that Mira⯑cles may be wrought by inferior or ſub⯑altern [286] baltern Beings:"’ This vaniſhes at once with Regard to the Chriſtian Diſpenſation, on the Evidence as here ſtated. For as the miraculous Acts of Power recorded in the Bible were wrought for the Support and Accompliſhment of a Diſpenſation full of Goodneſs and Wiſdom, we have the ſame Proof that they were the Work of the ſu⯑preme God, as we have, that Nature is ſo. 'Tis true, that in either Caſe, for aught we know, inferior or ſubaltern Beings may have been commiſſioned by the Supreme, as immediate Agents. But this Poſſibility, in either Caſe, can be a Matter of no Con⯑ſequence to us, while it is manifeſt that the delegated Beings, whatever they might be, acted in full Subſerviency to the Goodneſs, Wiſdom, and Omnipotence of the one eter⯑nal GOD.

V. To the noble Writer's Objection, ‘"that, while we labour to unhinge Nature, we bring Confuſion on the World, and deſtroy that Order from whence the one infinite and perfect Principle is known^h."’—the Reply is eaſy and convincing. For while the ſupernatural Power is directed to advance the Happineſs of Mankind, 'tis ſo [287] far from deſtroying any Principle from whence the one perfect Being is known; that, on the contrary, it gives us ſtill clearer and more ſatisfying Notices of the divine Providence. 'Tis allowed on all Hands, that there are Imperfections in the Crea⯑tion: And tho' there may be, and doubtleſs are, good Reaſons unknown to us, why theſe ſhould not in every Inſtance be re⯑moved by a particular Exertion of ſuperna⯑tural Power; yet when the divine Wiſdom ſees fit thus to interpoſe, for the further Ad⯑vancement of his Creatures' Happineſs; can any thing be more irrational than to ſay, that ‘"this is bringing Confuſion on the World?"’ The only Queſtion is, Whether ‘"Happineſs ſhall be deſtroyed for the ſake of a pre-eſtabliſhed Law; or a pre-eſta⯑bliſhed Law be ſuſpended for the ſake of Happineſs?"’ In other Words, whether Power ſhall be ſubſervient to Goodneſs, or Goodneſs yield to Power? A Queſtion which no ſound Theiſt can be left at a Loſs to anſwer. As therefore the Exertion of di⯑vine Power, in Nature, is for the Pro⯑duction of Happineſs; the miraculous Exer⯑tion of Power, for the further Advancement of Man's Happineſs, is ſo far from ‘"bring⯑ing [288] Confuſion on the World, either the Chaos and Atoms of the Atheiſts, or the Magick and Daemons of the POLYTHE⯑ISTS,"’ that it is even the cleareſt Proof, or Revelation of the DIVINITY.

VI. WITHOUT this apparent Subſervi⯑ency to the Deſigns of Wiſdom and Good⯑neſs, all Accounts of miraculous Facts muſt be highly improbable. Becauſe we have no Reaſon to believe that the Deity will ever counteract the eſtabliſhed Laws of Nature; unleſs for the Sake of advancing the Happineſs of his Creatures.

VII. ON this Account, moſt of the pre⯑tended Miracles recorded in the Heathen Story, are highly improbable. For it doth not appear, they were ever ſaid to have been wrought in any Series or Chain: they never were directed to the Accompliſhment of any one End, thro' different Periods of Time: Were frequently far from being beneficent: Seldom accommodated even to any rational Purpoſe; but generally, mere pretended Acts of arbitrary and unmeaning Power. Thus they are eſſentially diſtin⯑guiſhed from the Scripture Miracles; and are utterly deſtitute of that INTERNAL [289] Evidence which ariſeth from an Union of Deſign.

VIII. HENCE we may clearly diſcover the Reaſon, why the wiſer Heathens ridi⯑culed the Jews, even to a Proverb, for their extravagant Regard to Miracles. They knew their own to be abſurd and irratio⯑nal; this at once prevented them from en⯑quiring into the real Nature of the Jewiſh Miracles; and at the ſame Time, led them to deride and reject theſe boaſted Wonders, as being no better than their own.

IX. BUT on the Evidence as here ſtated, the Scripture Miracles become even proba⯑ble, from the Circumſtances under which they are recorded. As they are beneficent: As they were wrought thro' different Pe⯑riods of Time in Support of one Diſpenſation full of Wiſdom and Goodneſs: As it is highly improbable that this Diſpenſation could have been completed in all it's immenſe Vari⯑ety of Circumſtances without ſuch an imme⯑diate Interpoſition of divine Power.

X. AND now we ſhall plainly ſee the Reaſon why we reject the Accounts of Miracles given by Heathen Writers, while we believe the other Parts of their Story; and yet cannot reject the Jewiſh and Chriſ⯑tian [290] Miracles, without rejecting at the ſame Time the whole Hiſtory in which they are contained. For in the firſt Caſe, as the Miracles are uſeleſs, unmeaning, and uncon⯑nected with the reſt of the Facts, it appears they are merely political. But the Jewiſh and Chriſtian Miracles make an eſſential Part of the ſeveral Events related; they are ſtrongly connected with this great HIS⯑TORY of PROVIDENCE, and are indeed the very Means by which Providence completed it's gracious Purpoſe, ‘"the Eſtabliſhment of Chriſtianity."’ We cannot therefore reject theſe miraculous Accounts without re⯑jecting all the natural Events with which they are thus intimately interwoven: And this we cannot do, without deſtroying every received Principle of Aſſent, and ſhaking the Faith of all ancient Hiſtory.

I cannot conclude this Argument with⯑out tranſcribing a noble Paſſage from the Book of Wiſdom, where ſeveral of theſe Truths are finely illuſtrated: And which may convince us, how juſt an Idea the JEWS entertained of miraculous Interpoſition, beyond what their Enemies have induſtri⯑ouſly repreſented. The Writer, after re⯑counting the ſtupendous Chain of Miracles [291] wrought for the Deliverence of the choſen People, concludes thus. ‘"In all things, O Lord, thou haſt magnified and glori⯑fied thy People, and haſt not deſpiſed to aſſiſt them in every Time and Place.—For every Creature in it's Kind was fa⯑ſhioned a new, and ſerved in their own Offices enjoyned them, that thy Children might be kept without Hurt.—For the things of the Earth were changed into things of the Water, and the thing that did ſwim went upon the Ground. The Fire had power in the Water, contrary to his own Virtue; and the Water forgat his own Kind, to quench.—Thus the Elements were changed among themſelves by a Kind of Harmony, as when one Tune is changed upon an Inſtrument of Muſic, and the Melody ſtill remaineth.’

THUS he nobly expreſſeth the Subſervi⯑ency of the Elements to the divine Will: And under the Image of a muſical Inſtru⯑ment, which the ſkilful Maſter tunes, changes, and directs to the one Purpoſe of Harmony, he aptly and beautifully repreſents the whole Creation as an Inſtrument in the Hands of GOD, which he orders, varies, and con⯑trouls, [292] to the one unvary'd End of HAPPI⯑NESS.

SECTION V.

HAVING vindicated the Scripture Miracles from the noble Writer's Objec⯑tions; and ſhewn that they are ſo far from being uſeleſs or abſurd, that the grand Scheme of Providence could neither have been evi⯑denced nor accompliſhed without them; we have deſtroyed the chief Foundation on which his Lordſhip hath attempted to fix his Cavils againſt Chriſtianity on another Subject; I mean, that of Enthuſiaſm; which naturally offers itſelf next to our Conſidera⯑tion. As this is the noble Writer's favourite Topic, we may reaſonably expect to ſee him ſhine in it: And in one Reſpect indeed he does. He never touches on the Subject, but he riſeth above himſelf: His Imagi⯑nation kindles; he catches the Fire he de⯑ſcribes; and his Page glows with all the Ardors of this high Paſſion.

IT will, I preſume, be unneceſſary to make any Remarks on the large and emi⯑nent Liſt of Enthuſiaſts, Poets, Orators, Heroes, Legiſlators, Muſicians, and Philo⯑ſophers, [293] which his Lordſhip cites from PLATO. He may call them Enthuſiaſts, if it ſeem good to him; and may juſtly rank himſelf in the Number too, if by that Name be underſtood no more, than a Man of uncommon Strength or Warmth of Imagi⯑nation; for this indeed is the requiſite Found⯑ation of Excellence, in any of the Charac⯑ters here enumerated.

THE only Circumſtance we are concern⯑ed calmly to examine, is that of religious En⯑thuſiaſm: Chiefly, to point out the eſſential Qualities and Characteriſtics which diſ⯑tinguiſh this from divine Inſpiration: Hence to prove, that our Saviour and his Apoſtles were not religious Enthuſiaſts, as the noble Writer hath ſuggeſted.

'TIS indeed, as his Lordſhip obſerves, ‘"a great Work to judge of Spirits, whether they be of God."’ We ſhall willingly join him in this Principle too, ‘"that in or⯑der to this End, we muſt antecedently judge our own Spirit, whether it be of Reaſon or ſound Senſe, free of every byaſſing Paſſion, every giddy Vapour, or melancholy Fume. This is the firſt Knowledge, and previous Judgment; to underſtand ourſelves, and know what [294] Spirit we are of. Afterwards we may judge the Spirit in others, conſider what their perſonal Merit is, and prove the Va⯑lidity of their Teſtimony by the Solidity of their Brain."’ On this Principle then let the Cauſe be determined.

IN examining this Subject, therefore, we ſhall find, Firſt, that in ſome Reſpects, En⯑thuſiaſm muſt, from it's Nature, always re⯑ſemble divine Inſpiration. Secondly, that in others it hath generally attempted a fur⯑ther Reſemblance, but hath always betrayed itſelf. Thirdly, that in other Circum⯑ſtances it is diametrically oppoſite to divine Inſpiration, and void even of all ſeeming Reſemblance.

FIRST, Enthuſiaſm muſt, from it's very Nature, in ſome Reſpects always reſemble divine Inſpiration. They both have the Deity for their Object; and conſequently muſt both be attended with a devout Turn of Mind. They muſt both be ſubject to ſtrong and unuſual Impreſſions; the one ſupernatural; the other praeternatural, that is, beyond the ordinary Efforts of Nature, tho' really produced by Nature; theſe, thro' their uncommon Force, will often reſemble, and not eaſily be diſtinguiſhed from thoſe [295] which are the real Effect of ſupernatural Power. This Circumſtance deſerves a par⯑ticular Attention: For theſe two Qualities which are common to both, have induced many to reject the very Notion of divine Inſpiration, as mere Ethuſiaſm. Whereas we ſee, that, ſuppoſing ſuch a thing as di⯑vine Inſpiration, it cannot but reſemble En⯑thuſiaſm in theſe two Characters.

BUT tho' it were ſtrange, if Counterfeits did not hit off ſome Features of their genuine Originals; yet it were more ſtrange, if they ſhould be able to adopt them all, by ſuch a perfect Imitation as to prevent their being detected.

THERE are, therefore, ſecondly, other Circumſtances in which Enthuſiaſm hath generally attempted a further Reſemblance of divine Inſpiration, but in theſe hath al⯑ways betrayed itſelf ſpurious.

The firſt of this Kind is, ‘"A Pretence to, and Perſuaſion of the Power of work⯑ing Miracles."’ This Perſuaſion muſt needs be natural to the Enthuſiaſt; becauſe he imagines himſelf in all things highly favoured of Heaven: The Notion of a Communication of divine Power will there⯑fore be among the chief of his Deliriums. [296] In this the Enthuſiaſt hath been detected, ſometimes by the Abſurdity of the Miracle attempted, always by his Inability to per⯑form what he propoſed. There is ſcarce an Abſurdity ſo great, but what hath ſome Time or other been aimed at by Enthu⯑ſiaſts, in the Way of miraculous Power. Their Attempts have ever been void of all rational Intention, void of Beneficence, void of common Diſcernment: And hence mani⯑feſtly the Effects of a heated Imagination. That they have always failed in their At⯑tempts is no leſs known. But theſe are Truths ſo willingly allowed by the Enemies of Religion, that we need not enlarge on them. On the contrary, we have ſeen, the Miracles of the Goſpel are rational, be⯑neficent, united in one great End; perform⯑ed before Numbers, before Enemies; record⯑ed by Eye-Witneſſes. His Lordſhip indeed objects or inſinuates, that the Teſtimony even of Eye-Witneſſes cannot in this Caſe be a Foundation for Aſſent, unleſs we know them to have been ‘"free both from any particular Enthuſiaſm, and a general Turn to Melancholy."’ But with Regard to the Miracles of the Goſpel, we know that many were converted by them, from their former [297] Prejudices; and therefore could not poſ⯑ſibly be under the Influence of the Chriſtian Enthuſiaſm, ſuppoſing it ſuch. And as to their being free from Melancholy; for this we may ſafely appeal to the rational and conſiſtent Accounts given by the ſacred Penmen. Melancholy and Enthuſiaſm muſt ever produce inconſiſtent Viſions. For a Proof that the Scripture Miracles are not of this Nature, we appeal to what hath been already ſaid on this Subject in the preceeding Section.

BUT there is one miraculous Gift, the Gift of Tongues, which hath more generally been ſuppoſed the peculiar Effect of Inſpi⯑ration. We have an Account of this Kind recorded in holy Writⁱ. And this Account the noble Writer hath thought it expedient to turn to Ridicule; by repreſenting this ſuppoſed miraculous Gift, as the mere Ef⯑fect of ſtrong Melancholy, and natural Ine⯑briation. To this Purpoſe, having obſerved from Dr. MORE, that ‘"the Vapours and Fumes of Melancholy partake of the Na⯑ture of Wine;"’ he adds, ‘"One might conjecture from hence, that the malicious Oppoſers of early Chriſtianity were not un⯑verſed [298] in this Philoſophy; when they ſo⯑phiſtically objected againſt the apparent Force of the divine Spirit ſpeaking in di⯑vers Languages, and attributed it to the Power of new Wine ^k."’ Agreably to this in⯑ſinuated Charge, he tells us of ‘"A Gen⯑tleman who has writ lately in Defence of revived Prophecy, and has ſince fallen himſelf into the prophetic Ecſtaſies."’ The noble Writer adds, ‘"I ſaw him lately un⯑der an Agitation (as they call it) uttering Prophecy in a pompous Latin Style, of which, out of his Ecſtaſy, it ſeems, he is wholly incapable ^l."’

HERE we may ſee, how ready ſome People are to ſtrain at a Gnat, and yet ſwal⯑low a Camel. The noble Writer ridicules the Gift of Tongues from divine Inſpira⯑tion, as abſurd and impoſſible: Yet he be⯑lieves, you ſee, or affects to believe, that this Man could ſpeak Latin by the ſole Force of Imagination and Enthuſiaſm. A com⯑pendious Method this, of learning Langua⯑ges! I have ſomewhere met with a very ra⯑tional Remark, That whereas it was charg⯑ed by FESTUS upon St PAUL, ‘"that Learning had made him mad,"’ this No⯑tion [299] inverts the Charge; for thus ‘"Mad⯑neſs may make a Man learned."’

BUT leaving his Lordſhip's Admirers to determine which is the greater Miracle, a Gift of Tongues from God, or a Gift of Tongues from Melancholy; 'tis our Part to ſhew the eſſential Characters of Diſtinction between the Reality of one, and the Pretences of the other Now this will appear moſt evident, if we compare them, both in their Manner, and their End. As to the Manner of this new prophecying Sect, the noble Wri⯑ter himſelf tells us, it was that of Ecſtacy and Convulſion; and that he ſaw this Gen⯑tleman under an Agitation when he had the Gift of Tongues. As to the End pretended in this miraculous Gift; it appears there was really none: For the pompous Latin Style was uttered among a People who, in general, underſtood the Engliſh Language only: It could therefore ſerve to no rational Purpoſe. On the contrary, it appears that the miraculous Gift of Tongues conferred on the Apoſtles, was rational both in its Man⯑ner and it's End. There is not the leaſt Hint of it's having been attended with Ecſ⯑taſies or Convulſions; nay, it appears from [300] the Account, that it could not have been ſo attended: And from the Occaſion it appears how proper it was, with Regard to it's End. The Recital is noble and rational: Let it anſwer for itſelf. ‘"And there were dwelling at Jeruſalem, JEWS, devout Men, out of every Nation under Heaven.—And they were all amazed, and marvelled, ſaying one to another, Behold, are not all theſe which ſpeak, Galileans? And how hear we every Man in our own Tongue, wherein we were born? Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, the Dwellers in Me⯑ſopotamia, and in Judea, and Cappodocia, in Pontus and Aſia, Phrygia and Pam⯑phylia, in Egypt, and in the Parts of Libya about Cyrene: And Strangers of Rome; Jews and Proſelytes, Cretes and Arabians; we do hear them ſpeak in our Tongues the wonderful Works of God!"’ How juſt an Effort of divine Power! which ſhould at once give Inſtruction to thoſe who moſt wanted it; and be the natural Means of conveying and diſperſing the glad Tydings of the Goſpel, to every Nation under Heaven!—It ſhould ſeem probable, therefore, that the Men who ‘"mocked and ſaid, theſe Men are full of new Wine,"’ were the Natives of [301] Judea. For PETER, we find, immediately aroſe, and addreſſed himſelf to theſe in par⯑ticular. ‘"Ye Men of Judea," &c.’ And it was natural for them to entertain this Suſpicion; becauſe they neither underſtood what the Apoſtles uttered, nor could imagine how they ſhould obtain a Knowledge of ſo many various Tongues. They muſt, there⯑fore, naturally ſuſpect, that the Apoſtles were uttering unmeaning Sounds: And this they regarded as the Effect of Wine.

ANOTHER remarkable Circumſtance, in which Enthuſiaſts have often pretended to reſemble the divinely inſpired, is ‘"the Gift of Prophecy."’ Which, indeed, is no more than another Kind of Miracle. In this too, Enthuſiaſm hath always betrayed itſelf. Firſt, and principally, with regard to the Event. The frequent Attempts of this Kind, and their perpetual Failure, need not here been umerated: They are known ſufficiently. This cannot be charged on the Apoſtles with the leaſt Appearance of Reaſon: For it is a Gift they hardly ever pretended to. Our Saviour indeed foretold many and great Events—the Defection of PETER; his own Sufferings, Death, Reſurrection, and Aſcen⯑ſion; the Deſcent of the Holy Spirit, the [302] Perſecution of his Diſciples, the Propagation of his Religion among the Gentiles, the ap⯑proaching Miſeries and final Deſtruction of Jeruſalem. Now all theſe Events were clearly accompliſhed: So far, therefore, are they from proving him an Enthuſiaſt, that they demonſtrate him poſſeſſed of di⯑vine Fore-Knowledge.

BUT beſides the Event, there is a not⯑able Circumſtance in the Manner, which hath ever diſtinguiſhed real from pretended, true from falſe Prophecy: And which the noble Writer's groundleſs Affirmations have made it neceſſary to inſiſt on.

HE ſays, ‘"I find by preſent Experience, as well as by all Hiſtories ſacred and pro⯑phane, that the Operation of this Spirit is every where the ſame as to the bodily Organ ^m."’ In Confirmation of this he cites a Paſſage from the Gentleman who was ſub⯑ject to the prophetic Ecſtaſies, which in⯑forms us ‘"that the ancient Prophets had the Spirit of God upon them under Ec⯑ſtaſy, with divers ſtrange Geſtures of Body denominating them Madmen (or Enthu⯑ſiaſts) as appears evidently, ſays he, in the Inſtances of Balaam, Saul, David, [303] Ezekiel, Daniel ⁿ," &c.’ And he adds, the Gentleman ‘"proceeds to juſtify this by the Practice of the apoſtolic Times, and by the Regulation which the Apoſtle himſelf applies to theſe ſeemingly irregu⯑lar Gifts^o."’ In this Inſtance it is not unpleaſant to obſerve the different Views of his Lordſhip, and the Gentleman he refers to, in their Endeavours to eſtabliſh this pretended Fact. The one was zealous to fix a Reſemblance between the old and the new prophetic Manner, in order to ſtrengthen the Credit of the revived Prophecy: The other's Intention plainly was, by that very Reſemblance, which he was willing ſhould paſs for real, to deſtroy the Credit of the Scripture Prophecies, well knowing that the other deſerved none.

BUT ſo it happens, that the noble Wri⯑ter's Friend proves as bad an Hiſtorian, as he was a Prophet: And fails as miſerably in relating paſt Events, as in foretelling future. The Truth is, that both his Lord⯑ſhip and the Gentleman ſeem to have been in a Fit of Enthuſiaſm, and have therefore been induced to mingle a little pious Fraud, thro' a Zeal for their reſpective Theories. [304] For in Reality, this pretended Reſemblance is utterly fictitious. There is not the leaſt Hint in Scripture, that any of the Perſons mentioned as true Prophets, were ever ſub⯑ject to theſe Ecſtatic, convulſive Motions, which the enthuſiaſtic Gentleman and his Tribe were always ſeized with. As to the Regulation made by the Apoſtle PAUL; whoever conſults the Place^p will find, there is no Mention made of Ecſtaſies, Convulſions, or extraordinary bodily Motions. And 'tis clear, that our Saviour always delivered his Prophecies on every incidental Occaſion, under all the common Circumſtances of hu⯑man Life; calm, ſerene, and with unaffected Deliberation. So that the whole Charge is a bold, continued Falſhood, void of Truth, and even the Appearance of it.

INDEED, from the Inſtances which the noble Writer cites from VIRGIL and LIVY, 'tis evident that the old heathen Pretenders to Prophecy were affected in the ſame con⯑vulſive Manner, as the modern Chriſtian En⯑thuſiaſts. His Lordſhip might have cited twenty more from ancient Writers. And what can be rationally inferred from them? What but this—‘"That this convulſive [305] Agitation of the bodily Organs is a Cir⯑cumſtance that effectually betrays Enthu⯑ſiaſm; and diſtinguiſheth it from the real Inſpirations recorded in holy Writ."’

THESE are the Circumſtances in which Enthuſiaſm will generally ſeem to reſemble real Inſpiration: tho' on a nearer Scrutiny, theſe very Circumſtances will always detect it. We come now to enumerate thoſe other Qualities peculiar to Enthuſiaſm, in which it bears no Reſemblance to divine Inſpira⯑tion, and in which they are, at firſt View, clearly diſtinguiſhed from each other. And here it is remarkable, that, as the noble Writer dwells on the former, ſo he ſcarce ever touches on theſe following Characters of clear diſtinction. This pecu⯑liar Conduct can hardly be judged acciden⯑tal: For a Man of Wit can eaſily improve a partial Reſemblance into a complete one: But to have added other Features, of abſo⯑lute Diſſimilarity, would have weakened the Likeneſs, and conſequently have diſgraced the intended Repreſentation.

THE chief Qualities, which clearly, and at firſt View, diſtinguiſh Enthuſiaſm from divine Inſpiration, I find enumerated by the [306] fine Writer of the Letter on St. Paul's Con⯑verſion. Theſe are, ‘"Heat of Temper, Me⯑lancholy, Credulity, Self-Conceit, and Ig⯑norance."’ So far as theſe relate to St. PAUL, the Reader is referred to the excel⯑lent Work here cited. 'Tis our Part to conſider them as they may affect our Sa⯑viour, and the reſt of his Apoſtles. And a brief Conſideration may ſuffice: For all (except the laſt) are ſo repugnant to their Characters, that the very Mention of them refutes the Imputation.

WITH Regard to the firſt of theſe Qua⯑lities, ‘"uncommon Heat of Temper,"’ 'tis of all others moſt abhorrent from our Sa⯑viour's Character. He is every where ſedate, cool, and unmoved, even under the moſt bit⯑ter Circumſtances of Provocation^q: He every where appears a perfect Model of Benevolence, Meekneſs, and mild Majeſty. The ſame Temper generally prevails among his Apoſtles: More particularly we may obſerve of the Evangeliſts, who are the im⯑mediate Evidences, that in their Writings they diſcover the moſt perfect Coolneſs. Had they been of a fiery Diſpoſition, they had [307] not failed to load the Enemies of their crucified Lord, with the bittereſt Sarcaſms.

WITH as little Reaſon can Melancholy be charged on the Founders of Chriſtianity. Our Saviour came, ‘"eating and drinking:"’ So entirely open, unreſerved, and ſocial, that he was branded by his Enemies, as a Friend of Publicans and Sinners. Another Cir⯑cumſtance, beſides the Paſſion for Solitude, hath ever diſtinguiſhed Melancholy: That is, ‘"an Over-Fondneſs and Deſire to ſuffer in the apprehended Cauſe of Truth, be⯑yond the juſt and rational Ends of Suffer⯑ing."’ Now this is diametrically oppoſite to the Character of our Saviour and his Apoſtles: For even JESUS himſelf was in an Agony at the Apprehenſion of his ap⯑proaching Sufferings. So far were his Diſ⯑ciples from being tainted with this Melan⯑choly, that they diſcovered unmanly Fear; for they all forſook him and fled. 'Tis true, they afterwards endured the ſevereſt Trials with unſhaken Conſtancy; yet ſtill, with the reſigned Spirit of Martyrs; not the Eager⯑neſs and fanatic Vaunts of all known En⯑thuſiaſts ^r.

[308] THE Charge of Credulity hath no better Foundation. To our Saviour himſelf it is in it's very Nature utterly inapplicable. His Diſciples have been often charged with Cre⯑dulity. But on impartial Examination it will appear, that the Charge is groundleſs. For this is an unvarying Circumſtance in the Credulity of an Enthuſiaſt, ‘"that it never admits a Doubt."’ But it is evident from the united Accounts of the Goſpel-Hiſtory, that they oſten, nay always doubted of our Saviour's Death, tho' himſelf foretold it. 'Tis equally evident, they not only doubted of, but almoſt diſbelieved his Reſurrection, till overcome by irreſiſtible Evidence. Theſe Circumſtances afford another collateral Proof, that the Apoſtles were not Enthuſiaſts: Be⯑cauſe it is eſſentially of the Nature of En⯑thuſiaſm, ‘"to run on headlong in the open Channel of the Firſt conceived Opinion."’ Now 'tis evident, they changed their firſt Opinion concerning the temporal Dominion of CHRIST, into the firm Belief of his Death, Reſurrection, and ſpiritual Kingdom: We cannot therefore juſtly charge them with that Credulity, which is the Characteriſtic of Enthuſiaſm ^s.

[309]THE next Circumſtance, Self-Conceit, which hath ever been one of the moſt diſ⯑tinguiſhing Qualities of Enthuſiaſm, is ſo diſtant from the Character of JESUS and his Apoſtles, that it hath never, I believe, been laid to their Charge. The Enthuſiaſt is perpetually boaſting of immediate Con⯑verſe and Communication with the Deity; and overflows with a Contempt of all, who are not of his own Syſtem. In our Saviour we diſcover the moſt unfeigned Humility and Compaſſion towards all Men. When urged to ſhew his Pretenſions to a divine Miſſion, ſo far is he from reſolving them into in⯑ward Feelings, Impulſes, or Notices from God (the conſtant Practice of every Enthu⯑ſiaſt) that, on the contrary, he calmly ap⯑peals to his Works and Doctrines^t; adding, in a Strain the Reverſe of all Enthuſiaſm, that ‘"in what we bear Witneſs only to ourſelves, our Witneſs cannot be eſta⯑bliſhed as a Truth^u."’ The ſame Turn of Mind appears in the Apoſtles. They affect no Superiority themſelves, nor expreſs or [310] diſcover any Contempt or ſpiritual Pride with Regard to others.

THE laſt Quality common to Enthuſiaſts, is that of Ignorance. This hath been ſome⯑times charged on our Saviour himſelf: often on his Apoſtles with an Air of Triumph. But ſo it is, that ſeeming Objections againſt Truth become often the ſtrongeſt Evidence in Support of it. This will eminently ap⯑pear in the preſent Caſe, if we conſider ‘"that Ignorance or Want of Letters, when joined with Enthuſiaſm, muſt always produce the moſt inconſiſtent Viſions, whimſical Conduct, and pernicious Doc⯑trines."’ Theſe Effects, Ignorance and En⯑thuſiaſm have wrought wherever they ap⯑peared, in every Age and Nation. Nor can it indeed be otherwiſe: For a lettered En⯑thuſiaſt may be ſuppoſed to have an inter⯑nal Balance, which muſt in ſome Degree counteract and regulate his Viſions; while the unlettered is ſubject to no Controul, but muſt become the Sport and Prey to the de⯑lirious Flights of an unreined Imagination.

NOW, that the Apoſtles and Evangeliſts were unlearned, muſt needs be granted: And tho' the noble Writer hath taken upon him to deride them on this Account; yet [311] this very Circumſtance, compared with their Conduct and Writings, clears them at once from the Charge of Enthuſiaſm. So far were they from the ravings of this Paſſion, common to all ignorant Enthuſiaſts, that we may defy the Enemies of Chriſtianity to produce any Inſtance either of Speech or Practice, that hath the ſmalleſt Tincture of Extravagance. Their Conduct was regu⯑lar and exemplary; their Words were the Words of Truth and Soberneſs.

AS to the Charge of Ignorance againſt our Saviour, the Enemies of Chriſtianity have been more cautious: Yet it hath been inſinuated. And indeed, that he had not the common Aids of human Learning, is not only acknowledged, but inſiſted on. Could ignorant and blind Enthuſiaſm then have produced the ſublime religious Doctrines and moral Precepts which the Evangeliſts have recorded from his Mouth? With as much Truth it might be affirmed that the Crea⯑tion is the Produce of Chance. With Reaſon then may we aſk the noble Writer this Queſtion, ‘"Whence then had this Man ſuch Wiſdom, ſeeing he ſpake as never Man ſpake?"’ And the Anſwer ſure is one only, ‘"That as it was not from Man, it muſt [312] have been from GOD."’ For even the Ene⯑mies of Chriſtianity have born Witneſs to it's Excellence, even when they intended to diſgrace it: While with fruitleſs Labour they have attempted to prove, ‘"that the moſt exalted Truths and Precepts of the Goſpel may be found ſcattered among the Writings of the heathen Sages."’

FROM theſe concurrent Circumſtances, therefore, we obtain a full internal Proof, that the Founders of Chriſtianity were not Enthuſiaſts, as the noble Writer hath, by the moſt laboured and repeated Inſinuations, attempted to repreſent them.

SECTION VI.

SINCE therefore we have appealed to the religious and Moral Doctrines of Chriſtianity, as a concurrent Proof of it's divine Original; it will be neceſſary now to examine what the noble Writer hath al⯑ledged or ſuggeſted againſt this moſt eſſen⯑tial Part of our Religion.

AND firſt, it appears from the general Turn of the Characteriſtics, that the noble Author regards religious Eſtabliſhments as being quite at a diſtance from Philoſophy [313] and Truth, with which he tells us, in ancient Times they never interfered: He therefore derides every Attempt to make them co⯑aleſce. Thus he tells us, ‘"Not only Viſio⯑naries and Enthuſiaſts of all Kinds were tolerated by the Ancients; but, on the other Side, Philoſophy had as free a Courſe, and was permitted as a Balance againſt Superſtition.—Thus Matters were happily balanced; Reaſon had fair Play; Learning and Science flouriſhed. Won⯑derful was the Harmony and Temper which aroſe from all theſe Contrarieties ^w."’ Such therefore being his Lordſhip's Idea of a public Religion, which he ever oppoſes to private Opinion and Philoſophy; 'tis no Wonder he ſhould inſinuate the Folly of Chriſtianity, which promiſeth to all it's Pro⯑ſelytes, ‘"that they ſhall know the Truth, and the Truth ſhall make them free."’

BUT notwithſtanding the noble Writer's Partiality to the Syſtem of ancient Paganiſm, which he had deeply imbibed from his fa⯑miliar Converſe with ancient Writers; no unprejudiced Mind can heſitate a Moment, in determining the ſuperior Excellence of the Chriſtian Religion, compared with theſe [314] well-meant, but defective Schemes of heathen Policy. For, as groſs Error, and Miſap⯑prehenſion of the divine Nature and Attri⯑butes, was deeply interwoven with ancient Paganiſm; ſo, 'tis well known, that in Fact, the moſt horrid Enormities were committed upon Principle, under the Authority and Example of their pretended Gods. Lord SHAFTESBURY himſelf owns, what indeed it were folly to deny, that the Imitation of the Deity is a powerful Principle of Action^x. If ſo, it follows, that to communicate a juſt Idea of the divine Perfections to all Man⯑kind, muſt tend to ſecure their Virtue, and promote their Happineſs. 'Tis therefore equally ungenerous and impolitic, to ſuffer Mankind to live in Ignorance and Idolatry. Hence 'tis evident, that Reformations in Re⯑ligion are not the ridiculous Things his Lordſhip would repreſent them; and that Chriſtianity, if indeed it reveals the Truth, is a Religion in it's Tendency much more beneficial to Mankind than ancient Pa⯑ganiſm.

'TIS no difficult Taſk to aſſign the ori⯑ginal Cauſe of this ſo different and even op⯑poſite Genius of the pagan Syſtems from that [315] of Chriſtianity. In early and ignorant Ages, the Neceſſity of religious Belief and religious Eſtabliſhments was ſeen by the Leaders of Mankind: On this Account they inſtituted the moſt ſalutary Forms and Doctrines, which their unexperienced Reaſon could ſuggeſt. As Nations grew wiſer and more poliſhed, they ſaw the Weakneſs and Abſurdity of theſe eſtabliſhed Syſtems; but thro' a Regard, and perhaps a miſtaken one, to the public Good, were unwilling to diſ⯑cover theſe Defects and Abſurdities to the People. Hence probably the Riſe of ex⯑oteric and eſoteric Doctrines. For the fur⯑theſt that human Policy dared to go, was to reveal the Truth to a few initiated; While the Bulk of Mankind, even in the wiſeſt and politeſt Ages, continued the Dupes to the Prejudices and Superſtitions of the moſt ignorant ones. On the contrary, it was a main Deſign of the Chriſtian Diſ⯑penſation, to diſpel this Cloud of Ignorance, which excluded Mankind from all Partici⯑pation of divine Truth; to reveal thoſe juſt and ſublime Ideas of the Divinity, which are the nobleſt, as they are the ſureſt Foun⯑dation, not only of Piety but of Morals: And which, ſo far as they can affect either [316] Piety or Morals (ſuch is the Triumph of Chriſtianity over the laboured Reſearches of falſe Wiſdom) are no leſs intelligible to the Peaſant than the Philoſopher. On this Ac⯑count, Chriſtianity was perfect (relatively perfect) in it's firſt Delineation: All At⯑tempts to change or add to its Doctrines, have but diſcovered their own Abſurdity: And Experience every Day more and more convinceth us, that the only Method of ob⯑taining a pure and uncorrupt Syſtem of practical Religion and moral Precepts, is to ſearch for them in the uncommented Pages of the Goſpel.

THUS, what was the Effect of Neceſſity among the Heathens, the noble Writer very partially attributes to Choice: He miſtakes a Defect for an Excellence: And blindly prefers the Weakneſs of Man, to the Wiſ⯑dom of GOD.

ANOTHER Cavil frequently urged or in⯑ſinuated by his Lordſhip againſt Chriſtianity, ſeems to have been the natural Conſequence of the laſt-mentioned. He much admires the Pagan Religions, as having been ſociable, and mutually incorporated into each other: And often repreſents Chriſtianity, as of an unſociable, ſurly, and ſolitary Complexion, [317] tending to deſtroy every other but itſelf. The Conſequence of this, he tells us, hath been a ‘"new Sort of Policy, which extends it⯑ſelf to another World, and hath made us leap the Bounds of natural Humanity; and out of a ſupernatural Charity, has taught us the Way of plaguing one an⯑other moſt devoutly^y."’ Now with Regard to this pretended unſociable Temper of Chriſtianity; it muſt be owned indeed, that our Religion tends to ſwallow up and de⯑ſtroy every other, in the ſame Manner as Truth in every Subject tends to deſtroy Falſehood: That is, by rational Conviction. The ſame Objection might be urged againſt the Newtonian Philoſophy, which deſtroyed the Carteſian Fables: Or againſt the Coper⯑nican Syſtem, becauſe the clumſy Viſions of Ptolemy and Tycho-Brahe vaniſhed before it. The ſame might be urged againſt the Uſe⯑fulneſs, of the great Source of Day, becauſe it dims and extinguiſhes every inferior Luſtre: For the glimmering Lamps of human Know⯑ledge, lighted up by the Philoſophers, ſerved indeed to conduct them as a Light ſhining in a dark Place; but theſe muſt naturally be ſunk in a ſuperior Luſtre, when [318] the Sun of Righteouſneſs ſhould ariſe. The Goſpel therefore is ſo far unſociable, as to diſcredit Error; and is incompatible with this, as Light with Darkneſs: But not ſo unſociable, as to compel the erroneous. As to the religious Debates, then, which Chriſti⯑anity hath occaſioned, and the Wars and Maſſacres conſequent upon them, which the noble Writer ſo juſtly deteſts; Chriſtianity ſtands clear of the Charge, till it can be ſhewn that it countenanceth the inhuman Principle of Intolerance: And this, it's bittereſt Enemies can never do 'Tis true, that if we be ſo irrational as to take our Idea of Chriſtianity from the Repreſentations of Enthuſiaſts and Bigots, nothing can ap⯑pear more abſurd and miſchevious: As, in like Manner, if we conſider the Heavens under the perplexed Revolutions and ma⯑lignant Aſpects of the old Aſtronomers and Aſtrologers, nothing can be more unworthy either of divine Wiſdom or Goodneſs. But how can theſe falſe Images affect the noble Simplicity, and Benignity of the Goſpel, or the Solar Syſtem? To the Works and the Word of God, we muſt repair, for a true Idea of their undiſguiſed Perfection: And there we ſhall read their divine Author, in [319] the brighteſt Characters of Wiſdom and Goodneſs. So far therefore is Chriſtianity from encouraging Wars and Maſſacres, on Account of a Difference in Opinion, that it's divine Founder hath expreſsly warned his Followers againſt the Suggeſtions of this horrid Temper^z: Nor can theſe fatal Con⯑ſequences ever ariſe among Chriſtians, till they have diveſted themſelves of Chriſtian Charity, and^a miſtaken the very Principles of their Profeſſion.

BUT the noble Writer proceeds to ſtill more bitter Invectives, if poſſible, againſt Chriſtianity. For he often inſinuates, that the Proſpect of Happineſs and Miſery in another Life, revealed in the Goſpel, tends to the Deſtruction of all true Virtue ^b. In⯑deed we cannot much Wonder that his Lordſhip ſhould treat Chriſtianity in this Manner, when we conſider what he hath thrown out againſt Religion in general, in this Reſpect. Theſe Cavils have already been conſidered at large: Whatever there⯑fore he hath inſinuated againſt our Religion in particular, will naturally be refer'd to, and effectually be refuted by theſe more general Obſervations^c. However, there are [320] two or three Paſſages on this Subject ſo re⯑markable, that they may ſeem to deſerve a ſeparate Conſideration.

AFTER having ridiculed and branded Chriſtianity, as deſtroying the diſintereſted Part of Virtue, he tells us ‘"The Jews as well as Heathens were left to their Philo⯑ſophy to be inſtructed in the ſublime Part of Virtue, and induced by Reaſon to that which was never enjoyn'd them by Com⯑mand. No Premium or Penalty being inforced in theſe Caſes, the diſintereſted Part ſubſiſted, the Virtue was a free Choice, and the Magnanimity of the Act was left intire^d."’

HERE, again, the noble Writer hath got to his Peculiarities. What other Title this Paſſage may deſerve, we ſhall ſoon diſcover. For, firſt, ſuppoſing his Aſſertion true, what he notes in the Jewiſh and Heathen Religions as an Excellence, had certainly been a Defect. For are not Hottentots, wild In⯑dians, and Arabs, ‘"left to their Philoſo⯑phy, to be induced by Reaſon to that which was never enjoined them by Command? No Premium or Penalty [321] being inforced in theſe Caſes, the diſin⯑tereſted Part ſubſiſts, the Virtue is a free Choice, and the Magnanimity of the Act is left entire."’ Thus the noble Writer would again debaſe us into Savages^e; and, rather than not diſgrace Chriſtianity, would put the State of Paleſtine, Greece, and Rome, on a Level with that of the Cape of Good Hope: Blindly (or ſhall we ſay, knowingly?) diſparaging, what he elſewhere ſo juſtly ap⯑plauds, ‘"Laws, Conſtitutions, civil and RELIGIOUS Rites, whatever civilizes or poliſhes rude Mankind^f."’

BUT in Fact, neither the JEWS nor civilized Heathens were ever tainted with this Phrenzy. They ſaw the Neceſſity of religious Belief; and as they ſaw it's Ne⯑ceſſity, ſo they inforced it. With Regard to the JEWS, the noble Writer contradicts himſelf within the Compaſs of ten Lines: For there he ſays, ‘"their Religion taught no future State, nor exhibited any Rewards or Puniſhments, beſides ſuch as were tem⯑poral."’ This is the very Truth. Here then he owns a temporal Sanction of Pre⯑mium and Penalty, Reward and Puniſh⯑ment: Yet in the Paſſage above cited, and [322] which ſtands cloſe by the other in the Ori⯑ginal, he ſays, ‘"there was no Premium or Penalty inforced, no Reward or Pun⯑iſhment!"’ His Lordſhip deals as fairly and conſiſtently by the civilized Heathens: For, could he indeed have forgot the diſ⯑tinguiſhed Rank, which, in the Elyſian Fields, was aſſigned to thoſe who fell to ſave their Country?

AND now let the Impartial determine, whether the noble Writer's Obſervation hath more of Sagacity or of Truth in it.

BUT the Chriſtian Doctrines relating to an hereafter, are to undergo a yet ſeverer Inquiſition from the noble Writer: They are to be tortured and mangled on the Rack, of Wit ſhall I ſay, or of Buffoonry? ‘"The Misfortune is, we are ſeldom taught to comprehend this SELF, by placing it in a diſtinct View from it's Repreſentative or Counterfeit. In our holy Religion, which, for the greateſt Part, is adapted to the very meaneſt Capacities, 'tis not to be expected that a Speculation of this [323] Kind ſhould be openly advanced. 'Tis enough that we have Hints given us of a nobler SELF, than that which is commonly ſuppoſed the Baſis and Foundation of our Actions. Self-Intereſt is there taken as it is vulgarly conceived—In the ſame Man⯑ner as the celeſtial Phaenomena are in the ſacred Volumes generally treated ac⯑cording to common Imagination, and the then current Syſtem of Aſtronomy and natural Science; ſo the moral Appear⯑ances are in many Places preſerved without Alteration, according to Vulgar Prejudice.—Our real and genuine Self is ſometimes ſuppoſed that ambitious one, which is fond of Power and Glory; ſome⯑times that childiſh one, which is taken with vain Shew, and is to be invited to Obedience by Promiſe of finer Habitations, precious Stones, and Metals, ſhining Gar⯑ments, Crowns, and other ſuch dazling Beauties, by which another Earth, or material City is repreſented^h."’

THIS Paſſage contains two inſinuated Charges of a very different Nature. The one is true, but no Objection: The other would indeed be an Objection, but that it is [324] abſolutely groundleſs. 'Tis true ‘"that our Religion is for the greateſt Part adapted to the very meaneſt Capacities; and that the celeſtial Phaenomena are in the ſacred Volumes generally treated according to common Imagination," &c.’ And would the noble Writer indeed have had it other⯑wiſe? Would he indeed have had them ſpoken of, according to the Philoſophical Conſtruction of the Univerſe, rather than the received Notions of Mankind? With how little Reaſon, we may ſoon be con⯑vinced, if we conſider, Firſt, that the End of Revelation was not to make Mankind Proficients in Philoſophy, ſince the Situa⯑tion of the Generality can never admit it: And had the Scriptures ſuppoſed this, (as indeed ſuch a Conduct would have ſuppoſed it) this very Circumſtance had been an Argument of their Falſehood. Secondly, even Philoſophers themſelves, tho' inti⯑mately acquainted with the Conſtruction of the Univerſe, do ſtill deſcend to the Level of Mankind, when they ſpeak of the Phae⯑nomena of Nature: The Sun ſets and riſes, as it did three thouſand Years ago: The Moon changes, wains, is new, and old: The Stars are in the Firmament, the Sun [325] ſtill rules the Day, and the Moon the Night. The Reaſon is evident: Becauſe aſtronomi⯑cal Diſcoveries have not the leaſt Influence on the Practice of Mankind: Becauſe, altho' the natural Appearances of things are merely relative to the Imagination only, yet they are, for that very Reaſon, neceſſary to be referred to, as the Imagination is the great univerſal Inſtrument of Life and human Action.

AN Objection therefore to the Scriptures on this Account, betrays either a groſs Miſapprehenſion of human Nature, or the moſt unpardonable Inſincerity; yet we find Objections of this kind frequently urged: as if, becauſe the ſacred Penmen were im⯑powered by God to reveal to us a certain Meaſure of religious and moral Truth, ſuited to our preſent State, they muſt therefore be endued with Omniſcience; in order to make all Men not only good Subjects, but good Aſtronomers too!

BUT tho' it were Folly to object againſt the ſacred Penmen, becauſe they appear not to have been omniſcient; yet I cannot con⯑clude this Argument, without producing a remarkable Inſtance, wherein their very Ig⯑norance of theſe ſpeculative and unneceſſary [326] Truths becomes a convincing Proof of their VERACITY: A Circumſtance which much more nearly concerns us. We read in the Book of Joſhua, ‘"And he ſaid in the Sight of Iſrael, SUN, ſtay thou in Gibeon, and thou MOON, in the Valley of Ajalon: And the Sun abode, and THE MOON STOOD STILL,—and haſted not to go down for a whole Dayⁱ."’ Here, the ſtanding ſtill of theſe Luminaries is related in ſuch a Manner as concurs with the com⯑mon Appearances of things; and yet con⯑ſiſts with the beſt Diſcoveries in Aſtronomy, tho' unknown to the Writer. For we are now aſſured that, if the Sun ſtood ſtill, it muſt have been by ſuſpending the diurnal Rotation of the Earth: The ſtanding ſtill of the Moon was therefore the neceſſary Conſequence. This the Writer appears not to have known: Yet he relates the Fact, tho' it was of no Importance with Regard to that Event for which the Miracle was wrought. It is therefore of ſingular Force in proving the Veracity of the Writer, becauſe, had it not been true in Fact, it is a Circumſtance which could never have occurr'd to him.

THE noble Writer's other Charge re⯑lating to the moral Repreſentations of the [327] Scriptures, would indeed be of Weight, if it were founded in Truth: But ſo far from this, that he hath utterly reverſed the Fact. For in Reality, theſe ſenſible Repreſenta⯑tions of viſible Beauty and Glory, are only occaſionally or accidentally hinted; while the whole Weight and Energy of the Goſpel is employed in inforcing the Idea of moral Perfection, of our nobler SELF, of Self-Intereſt in the higher Senſe, of the Neceſſity of extirpating every meaner Paſſion, and cheriſhing the great one of un⯑bounded Love, as the neceſſary and only Diſcipline that can qualify us for future Happineſs. 'Tis evident that the noble Writer lays the principal Streſs of his Charge, on the Apocalypſe; a Work in it's whole Turn ſtrictly allegorical, and therefore neceſſarily converſant in Imagery and viſible Repreſentation. To this he hath moſt perverſly added a figurative Expreſſion of St. PAUL, who writing to a People among whom the Prize-Races prevailed, repreſents the Chriſtian Progreſs as a Conteſt of this Kind; and ſhews it's Superiority over the Former, ‘"becauſe, ſaith he, they labour to obtain a corruptible, but we an incorruptible Crown."’ In the mean [328] Time he hath omitted the many Diſcourſes, Parables, Maxims, of our Saviour, in which he perpetually exhorts his Diſciples to en⯑deavour after unfeigned Virtue and univer⯑ſal Benevolence, as the only Means that can bring them to future Perfection. He hath forgot too the repeated Exhortations of St. PAUL, who ſets CHARITY ſo high above every other Gift or Poſſeſſion, and adds, the Reaſon of it's Preheminence, ‘"becauſe it ſhall never fail."’ 'Tis true indeed, as the noble Writer obſerves (with what In⯑tention, 'tis no difficult Matter to determine) ‘"that our holy Religion is for the greateſt Part adapted to the very meaneſt Capa⯑cities:"’ We may add, ‘"and to the very worſt of Diſpoſitions too."’ And 'tis one of it's chief Glories, that it is ſo. There⯑fore we find it inforcing every Motive that can work on every Mind: Which muſt ſurely be acknowledged as the Character of the Religion that ſhould come from him who knew what was in Man. But if the noble Writer would further inſinuate, that the Idea of future Happineſs ought to be confined to that of virtuous Enjoyment, whereas the Chriſtian Religion doth not ſo confine it; we have already ſeen, that, from [329] the Nature of things, this Refinement is viſionary and groundleſs ^k."

WE now come to the Examination of a Paſſage more extraordinary and original than any yet produced. The noble Writer tells us, ‘"I could be almoſt tempted to think, that the true Reaſon why ſome of the moſt heroic Virtues have ſo little Notice taken of them in our holy Religion, is, becauſe there would have been no Room left for Diſintereſtedneſs, had they been entitled to a Share of that infinite Reward, which Providence has by Revelation aſſigned to other Duties. Private Friendſhip, and Zeal for the Public and our Country, are Virtues purely voluntary in a Chriſtian. They are no eſſential Parts of his Charity. He is not ſo tied to the Affairs of this Life; nor is he obliged to enter into ſuch Engagements with this lower World, as are of no Help to him in acquiring a better. His Converſation is in Heaven. Nor has he Occaſion for ſuch ſupernumerary Cares and Embarraſſments here on Earth, as may obſtruct his Way thither, or retard him in the careful Taſk of working out his own Salvation^l."’

[330] WE have already ſeen, that the real Nature of Virtue conſiſts ‘"in procuring or promoting the greateſt public Happi⯑neſs:"’ And that this Truth is often, occaſionally, acknowledged by Lord Shafteſ⯑bury himſelf. Conſequently, the higheſt or moſt heroic Virtue, is that which tends to accompliſh this great End: Nor can any pretended Virtue be either great or heroic that tends to obſtruct or deſtroy it.

ON this plain Principle, ſelf-evident to unbyaſſed Reaſon, let us examine the Paſſage now before us. And firſt, as to private Friendſhip, which, the noble Writer ſays, ‘"is a Virtue purely voluntary in a Chriſ⯑tian:"’—Let us conſider how far it may be regarded as a Virtue at all.—Now, on ſtrict Enquiry we ſhall find, that the ex⯑treme Degree of Friendſhip recommended and applauded by the Ancients, and here pa⯑tronized by the noble Author, is eſſentially repugnant to true Virtue: In Friendſhip they placed the Chief Happineſs:—And if this conſiſts in the ſupreme Love of one, it muſt needs diminiſh, if not extinguiſh, the Love of all; becauſe our chief or whole Atten⯑tion muſt be employed, our every View and Deſign centered in giving Pleaſure or procuring [331] Happineſs to one Individual. And this is the very faireſt Light it can be view'd in.

FOR we ſhall further ſee, how little it generally partakes of the Nature of true Virtue, if we conſider whence it hath it's Riſe. This is univerſally allowed to be ‘"a Similarity of Diſpoſition, Will, and Manners."’ This Circumſtance demon⯑ſtrates, that in general it muſt be contrary to Virtue: For hence, the general Good muſt be often ſacrificed to gratify the Will of one. Of this dreadſul Effect, Inſtances might be produced almoſt innumerable. Let one ſuffice. ‘"Between TIBERIUS GRACCHUS and C. BLOSIUS, a dear and perfect Friendſhip ſubſiſted: The latter being ſeized for aiding the former in his Conſpiracy, was brought before the Con⯑ſuls. He pleaded his Friendſhip to GRAC⯑CHUS in Excuſe for his Crime."’ He was then aſked, ‘"What, ſuppoſe he had bid you fire the Capitol, would you have done it?"’ To this he boldly replied, ‘"He never would have laid me under ſuch a Neceſſity; but if he had, I would have obey'd him ^m."’ A thorough Friend ſure: But a vile Citizen; notwithſtanding the [332] artful Gloſs of an ingenious Modern, who hath attempted to make out the Innocence of his Intentionsⁿ.

'TIS true, the Advocates for this Attach⯑ment ſometimes aſſert, that it cannot conſiſt but with Virtue. That it ought not, is cer⯑tain: That it cannot, or doth not, is a ground⯑leſs Conceit; unleſs they chuſe to make this Circumſtance a Part of the Definition, which were idle Sophiſtry. But if by Friend⯑ſhip be meant, what indeed is always meant, ‘"a violent Love and Attachment to another on Account of a Similarity of Manners;"’ this, 'tis certain, hath often, nay moſt com⯑monly ſubſiſted without Virtue: Among Savages, Robbers, Heroes, and Banditti. In LUCIAN's Tract on Friendſhip we find, that out of Twelve notable Inſtances al⯑ledged, near half the Number were ſup⯑ported at the Expence of Juſtice or Huma⯑nity; either by the Commiſſion of Rapine, Adultery, or Murder, or by aiding the Eſ⯑cape of thoſe who ought to have ſuffered for theſe enormous Crimes. Will any one alledge the Emperor TIBERIUS or his Fa⯑vourite SEJANUS as Patterns of Virtue? Yet their Friendſhip was ſo remarkable, [333] that, in Honour of it, Altars were dedicated to Friendſhip by a ſenatorial Decree. Nay, ſome of the applauded Inſtances appealed to, by the noble Author in his Comment on this Paſſage, are even notorious in this Re⯑ſpect. Such were THESEUS and PIRI⯑THOUS, equally remarkable for Friendſhip, Rapes, and Plunder. And ſuch Inſtances may ſtill be found in every ſavage Country; where the ſtrongeſt Friendſhips are com⯑monly formed: Where Men thus leagued, go upon bold Adventures; and hazard and give up Life for each other without Reluc⯑tance, while they raviſh their Neighbours Wives, and carry off their Cattle.

With as little Reaſon can it be urged, that Friendſhips in general are diſintereſted, ſo as to aſpire to the Name of Merit. For Merit, if it exiſts, can only ariſe from Vir⯑tue: And Virtue, we have ſeen, doth not eſſentially belong to Friendſhip. Nay, in LUCIAN's Tract, 'tis warmly debated be⯑tween the contending Parties, whether Af⯑fection or private Advantage hath a more conſiderable Share in this applauded Union. Indeed the civilized and haughty Greek ſtands upon the Punctilio of Honour, and piques himſelf on the Notion of Diſintereſt: [334] But the undiſguiſed Scythian inſiſts that mu⯑tual Advantage and Support are the ruling Motives. However, in Concluſion they fairly agree, in comparing a ſet of faſt Friends to GERYON with three Heads and ſix Hands, enabled thro' this Increaſe of Strength, to overturn all Oppoſition^o. But ſuppoſe Affection the ruling Principle, as unqueſtionably it often is; where is the Merit, while confined to one Perſon? Nay, it muſt rather lean towards Demerit, be⯑cauſe it appears, 'tis rather dangerous than favourable to public Affection and Virtue. 'Tis evident then, that the friendly Affection is no more meritorious than the conjugal, paternal, or filial Affection; which being of a contracted Nature, are often conſiſtent with great Baſeneſs of Mind, and deſtructive of a more enlarged Benevolence^p. And [335] what Degree of Merit or Diſintereſt there is in Regards of this Nature, when ſepa⯑rate from more extenſive ones, we may learn from the noble Writer himſelf, who ſays, ‘"there is a Selfiſhneſs in the Love that is paid to a Wife, and in the Attendance on a Family, and all the little Affairs of it, which, had I my full Scope of Action in the Public, I ſhould hardly have ſub⯑mitted to^s:"’

SO far then is clear, That Friendſhip, or ‘"a violent Affection founded on a Simila⯑rity of Diſpoſition and Manners,"’ is more likely to produce Vice than Virtue; as it tends to fix ſuch Habits of Mind as muſt leſſen our Concern for the general Good. And in Fact, every one's Experience will point out to him Numbers of Men, natu⯑rally benevolent to all, but ſo ſtrongly by⯑aſſed and drawn in by particular Attach⯑ments, [336] that their Regards and Beneficence are centered wholly on a ſelect Few; while the reſt of Mankind paſs unheeded and un⯑aſſiſted, and have no Share in their Bene⯑volence, further than what Self-Deceit throws out, in unmeaning Wiſhes for their Welfare.

'TIS no leſs evident, that, thro' the natu⯑ral Advantages of this partial Alliance, Mankind muſt ever be prone to embrace it, in Excluſion of more extenſive Affections, where no ſuch Advantages can follow. It would therefore have been a Defect in the Chriſtian Religion, to have enjoined or even recommended it in this Extreme. Ac⯑cordingly we find, in the Goſpel, every At⯑tachment of this Kind, however natural and alluring it may be, ſet very little above the loweſt Selfiſhneſs, and juſtly repreſented as entirely conſiſtent with it. ‘"If ye do do good to them which do good to you, what thank have ye? Do not the Publi⯑cans even the ſame^r?’

BESIDES; there is ſomething ſo extraor⯑dinary in the noble Writer's Scheme of ‘"enjoying Friendſhip,"’ as ſufficiently ex⯑poſeth it's own Weakneſs. Friendſhip, his [337] Lordſhip allows, can only ariſe ‘"from a Conſent and Harmony of Minds^s."’ How then could Chriſtianity have enjoyned us the Practice of this ſuppoſed Virtue? What muſt it have enjoyned us? Why, to go in Queſt of a Mind reſembling our own. It might with equal Propriety have enjoyned us to go in Queſt of a Face reſembling our own: And with as much Reaſon, for all the Pur⯑poſes of true Virtue.

BUT if by Friendſhip be meant, what indeed is not generally meant, ‘"A parti⯑cular Love and Eſteem for the virtuous or worthy,"’ in which Senſe alone it can have any Tendency to produce true Virtue; then we may juſtly affirm, that it is recommend⯑ed in the Goſpel, both by Example and by Precept. It is naturally involved in that all-comprehenſive Command of univerſal Charity: For tho' many have been zealous in their Friendſhips, while they were in⯑ſenſible to publick Affection; yet, ſuch is the Temperament of human Nature, that no Inſtance was ever known, of a Man zealous for the Happineſs of all, yet remiſs in or incapable of a true Friendſhip for the worthy. It is recommended by St. PAUL, [338] who ſays, that ‘"peradventure for a good Man, one would even dare to die."’ It is recommended by our Saviour's Example, who ſelected a beloved Diſciple as his boſom Friend, whoſe Writings are the overflow⯑ings of a Heart filled with the pureſt and moſt unbounded Love^t." Above all, it is recommended by our Saviour in that noble and divine Paſſage; ‘"Who is my Mother or my Brethren? Even he that doth the Will of my Father which is in Heaven, he is my Brother, and Siſter, and Mother ^u."’

SO much for the ſpurious Virtue of pri⯑vate Friendſhip: Let us next conſider the noble Writer's Charge againſt Chriſtianity, on Account of it's not enjoyning ‘"a Zeal for the Public and our Country:"’ For this too, it ſeems, ‘"is a Virtue purely vo⯑luntary in a Chriſtian."’ Now all the Ab⯑ſurdities which load his Charge with Re⯑gard to Friendſhip, fall with equal Weight on this groundleſs Imputation. For if by ‘"Zeal for the Publick and our "Country,"’ be meant, a Zeal that is inconſiſtent with the Rights and common Welfare of Man⯑kind, 'tis ſo far from being a Virtue, that, as in the caſe of Friendſhip, it is really a [339] Crime, becauſe it tends to produce the moſt fatal Conſequences. And an Army of victorious Warriors returning triumphant on this vile Principle, however graced with the flattering Title of Heroes, and Enſigns of Glory, are in Truth no better than a Band of publick Robbers: or, as our great Poet, a Chriſtian and a Lover of Mankind, finely expreſſeth it,

Now 'tis evident beyond a Doubt, that at the Time when our Saviour appeared, this deſtructive Partiality, this avowed Conſpi⯑racy againſt the common Rights of Man⯑kind was univerſally prevalent among the moſt civilized Nations. The JEWS were not exempted from this common Exceſs. ‘"Inter ipſos Fides obſtinata, adverſus alios hoſtile Odium,"’ was their Character among the Heathens. The Greeks and Romans committed and boaſted of the moſt cruel Enormities, conquered and inſlaved inno⯑cent Nations, plundered Cities, and laid [340] waſte Kingdoms, thro' this abſurd and im⯑pious Love of their Country; a Principle no better in many of it's Conſequences, than the moſt horrid and accurſed Bigotry. It had therefore been an eſſential Defect, nay rather a miſchievous Abſurdity, in the Chriſtian Religion, to have enjoyned, en⯑couraged, or countenanced a Partiality un⯑juſt in itſelf; to which, from Views of private Advantage, Mankind muſt ever be prone; and which, at the Time when Chriſtianity began to ſpread, was indeed the reigning and predominant Error.

BUT if by ‘"Zeal for the Publick and Love of our Country"’ be meant, ſuch a Regard to it's Welfare as ſhall induce us to ſacrifice every View of private Intereſt for it's Accompliſhment, yet ſtill in Subordi⯑nation to the greater Law of univerſal Juſtice, this is naturally, nay neceſſarily in⯑volved in the Law of univerſal Charity. The noble Writer indeed affirms, ‘"it is no eſſen⯑tial Part of the Chriſtian's Charity."’ On the contrary it is a chief Part of the Chriſ⯑tian's Charity. It comes nobly recommend⯑ed by the Examples of JESUS and St PAUL: The one wept over the approaching Deſo⯑lation of his Country: The other declared [341] his Willingneſs to be cut off from the Chriſ⯑tian Community, if by this Means he might ſave his Countrymen. And that it neceſſa⯑rily ariſeth from the Principle of univerſal Love will be evident, if we conſider the Nature and Situation of Man. His Nature is ſuch, that he inevitably contracts the ſtrongeſt Affection for thoſe with whom he converſeth moſt intimately; and whoſe Man⯑ners and Relations, civil and religious, are moſt nearly connected with his own. His Situa⯑tion is ſuch, that he ſeldom hath an Oppor⯑tunity of doing good Offices to any Society of Men, ſave only thoſe of his own Country; all others being naturally removed beyond the narrow Sphere of private Beneficence. Hence the great Precept of univerſal Charity doth eſſentially involve ‘"a Zeal for the Publick and Love of our Country:"’ At once it curbs the Exorbitance of this natu⯑ral Partiality, and carries it to it's full Per⯑fection.

THE Neceſſity of this great Regulating Principle will further appear, if we conſi⯑der, that with Regard to the Conduct of ſeparate States and Kingdoms towards each other, no Sanctions of human Law can ever take place. In this reſpect all Nations muſt ever be in a State of Nature. There was [342] therefore a more particular Neceſſity, on this Account, of regulating their Conduct towards each other, by the great Law of univerſal Charity.

IT may ſeem ſtrange that the noble Writer ſhould be ignorant of theſe Truths. But after the Imputations he hath here thrown on Chriſtianity, it will ſurely appear more ſtrange that he was not ignorant of them: And that theſe bitter Sarcaſms were thrown out againſt the clear Convictions of his own Mind. Yet nothing is more evi⯑dent, as will now appear. That he un⯑derſtood the Nature of Chriſtian Charity, is indiſputable: He defines it, and properly, in the Note annexed to the Paſſage here re⯑fer'd to. In another Place, he calls it ‘"the Principle of Love, the greateſt Principle of our Religion^x."’ In a following Para⯑graph he calls it ‘"that divine Love which our Religion teaches^y."’ But what is of all moſt remarkable; he ſets it, under the new and whimſical Denominations of Good-Nature and Friendſhip to Mankind, far above private Friendſhip and Love of our Country. Take the Paſſages as they lie in the noble Writer. ‘"Can any Friendſhip be ſo heroic, [343] as that towards Mankind? or particular Friendſhip well ſubſiſt, without ſuch an enlarged Affection^z?"’ Again. ‘"Theocles had almoſt convinced me, that to be a Friend to any one in particular, 'twas neceſſary firſt to be a Friend to Man⯑kind^a."’ Laſtly, and above all. ‘"And can your Country and what is more, your KIND, require leſs Kindneſs from you, or deſerve leſs to be conſider'd, than even one of theſe Chance-Creatures?—O Phi⯑locles, how little do you know the Extent and Power of Good-Nature, and to what an heroic Pitch a Soul may riſe, which knows the thorow Force of it; and diſtri⯑buting it rightly, frames in itſelf an equal, juſt, and univerſal Friendſhip ^b?"’ Here then we ſee the former Paragraph utterly reverſed. For ‘"univerſal Love is now the only heroic Principle:"’ And ‘"private Friendſhip and the Love of our Country are only commendable, as they make ſubordinate Parts of it."’