SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY OF MAN.
VOLUME IV.
SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY OF MAN.
IN FOUR VOLUMES.
By HENRY HOME, Lord KAIMS, Author of Elements of Criticiſm, &c.
VOLUME IV.
DUBLIN: Printed for JAMES WILLIAMS, No. 5, SKINNER-ROW. M,DCC,LXXIV.
SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY OF MAN.
[]SKETCH II.
Principles and Progreſs of MORALITY.
THE ſcience of morals, like other ſciences, is in a very imperfect ſtate among ſavages; and arrives at maturity among enlightened nations by very ſlow degrees. This progreſs points out the hiſtorical part, as firſt in order: but as that hiſtory would give little ſatisfaction, without a rule for comparing the morals of different ages, and of different nations, I begin with the prin⯑ciples of morality, ſuch as ought to govern at all times, and in all nations. The preſent ſketch ac⯑cordingly is divided into two parts. In the firſt, the principles are unfolded; and the ſecond is al⯑together hiſtorical.
PART I.
PRINCIPLES of MORALITY.
[2]SECT. I.
HUMAN ACTIONS analyſed.
THE hand of God is no where more viſible, than in the nice adjuſtment of our internal frame to our ſituation in this world. An animal is endued with a power of ſelf-motion; and in performing animal functions, requires not any external aid. This more eſpecially is the caſe of man, the nobleſt of terreſtrial beings. His heart beats, his blood circulates, his ſtomach digeſts, evacuations proceed, &c. &c. By what means? Not ſurely by the laws of mechaniſm, which are far from being adequate to ſuch operations. The operations mentioned are effects of an inter⯑nal power, beſtowed on man for preſerving life. [3] The power is exerted uniformly, and without in⯑terruption, independent of will, and without conſciouſneſs.
Man is a being ſuſceptible of pleaſure and pain: theſe generate deſire to attain what is agreeable, and to ſhun what is diſagreeable; and he is enabled by other powers to gratify his deſires. One power, termed inſtinct, is exerted indeed with conſciouſneſs; but blindly, with⯑out will, and without intention to produce any effect. Brute animals act for the moſt part by inſtinct: hunger prompts them to eat, and cold, to take ſhelter; knowingly indeed, but with⯑out exerting any act of will, and without fore⯑ſight of what will happen. Infants of the hu⯑man ſpecies, little ſuperior to brutes, are, like brutes, governed by inſtinct: they lay hold of the nipple, without knowing that ſucking will ſatisfy their hunger; and they weep when pain⯑ed, without any view of relief*. Another power is governed by intention and will. In the progreſs from infancy to maturity, the mind opens to objects, without end, of deſire and of [4] averſion, the attaining or ſhunning of which depend more or leſs on our own will. We are placed in a wide world, left to our own conduct; and we are by nature provided with a proper power for performing what we intend and will. The actions we perform by this power are term⯑ed voluntary. There ſtill remain another ſpecies of actions, termed involuntary; as where we act by ſome irreſiſtible motive againſt our will. An action may be voluntary, though done with re⯑luctance; as where a man, to free himſelf from torture, reveals the ſecrets of his friend: his confeſſion is voluntary, though drawn from him with great reluctance. But let us ſuppoſe, that after the firmeſt reſolution to reveal nothing, his mind is unhinged by exquiſite torture; the diſco⯑very he makes may be juſtly termed involuntary: he ſpeaks indeed; but he is compelled to it abſo⯑lutely againſt his will.
Man is by his nature an accountable being, an⯑ſwerable for his conduct to God and man. In doing any action that wears a double face, he is prompted by his nature to explain the ſame to his relations, his friends, his acquaintance; and above all, to thoſe who have authority over him. He hopes for praiſe for every right action, and dreads blame for every one that is wrong. But for what ſort of actions does he hold himſelf ac⯑countable? Not ſurely for an inſtinctive action, which is done blindly, without intention, and without will: neither for an involuntary action, becauſe it is extorted from him againſt his will: and leaſt of all, for actions done without conſci⯑ouſneſs, ſuch as thoſe which preſerve life. What only remain are voluntary actions, which are either right or wrong. Such actions are done wittingly and willingly: for theſe we muſt an⯑ſwer, [5] if at all accountable; and for theſe every man in conſcience holds himſelf bound to an⯑ſwer.
And now more particularly upon voluntary actions. To intend and to will, though com⯑monly held ſynonymous, ſignify different acts of the mind. Intention reſpects the effect: Will reſpects the action that is exerted for pro⯑ducing the effect. It is my intention, for ex⯑ample, to relieve my friend from diſtreſs: upon ſeeing him, it is my will to give him a ſum for his relief: the external act of giving fol⯑lows; and my friend is relieved, which is the effect intended. But theſe internal acts, though in their nature different, are always united: I cannot will the means, without intending the effect; and I cannot intend the effect, without willing the means*.
Some effects of voluntary action follow neceſ⯑ſarily: A wound is an effect that neceſſarily fol⯑lows the ſtabbing a perſon with a dagger: death is a neceſſary effect of throwing one down from the battlements of a high tower. Some effects are probable only: I labour in order to provide for my family; fight for my country to reſcue it from oppreſſors; take phyſic for my health. In ſuch caſes, the event intended does not neceſſarily nor always follow.
A man, when he wills to act, muſt intend the neceſſary effect: a perſon who ſtabs, cer⯑tainly intends to wound. But where the effect [6] is probable only, a man may act without in⯑tending the effect that follows: a ſtone thrown by me at random into the market-place, may happen to wound a man without my intending it. One acts by inſtinct, without either will or intention: voluntary actions that neceſſarily produce their effect, imply intention: voluntary actions, when the effect is probable only, are ſometimes intended, ſometimes not.
Human actions are diſtinguiſhed from each other by certain qualities, termed right and wrong. But as theſe make the corner-ſtone of morality, they are reſerved to the following ſection.
SECT. II.
Diviſion of Human Actions into RIGHT, WRONG, and INDIFFERENT.
[7]THE qualities of right and wrong in voluntary actions, are univerſally acknowledged as the foundation of morality; and yet philoſophers have been ſtrangely perplexed about them. The hiſtory of their various opinions, would ſignify little but to darken the ſubject: the reader will have more ſatisfaction in ſeeing theſe qualities ex⯑plained, without entering at all into controverſy.
No perſon is ignorant of primary and ſecondary qualities, a diſtinction much inſiſted on by philo⯑ſophers. Primary qualities, ſuch as figure, co⯑heſion, weight, are permanent qualities, that ex⯑iſt in a ſubject whether perceived or not. Secon⯑dary qualities, ſuch as colour, taſte, ſmell, de⯑pend on the percipient as much as on the ſubject, being nothing when not perceived. Beauty and uglineſs are qualities of the latter ſort: they have no exiſtence but when perceived; and, like all other ſecondary qualities, they are perceived in⯑tuitively; having no dependence on reaſon nor [8] on judgment, more than colour has, or ſmell, or taſtea.
The qualities of right and wrong in voluntary actions, are ſecondary, like beauty and uglineſs, and the other ſecondary qualities mentioned. Like them, they are objects of intuitive percep⯑tion, and depend not in any degree on reaſon or on judgment. No argument is requiſite to prove, that to reſcue an innocent babe from the jaws of a wolf, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, are right actions: they are perceived to be ſo intuitively. As little is an argument requi⯑ſite to prove, that murder, deceit, perjury, are wrong actions: they are perceived intuitive⯑ly to be ſo. The Deity has beſtowed on man, different faculties for different purpoſes. Truth and falſehood are inveſtigated by the reaſoning fa⯑culty. Beauty and uglineſs are objects of a ſenſe, known by the name of taſte. Right and wrong are objects of a ſenſe termed the moral ſenſe or conſcience. And ſuppoſing theſe qualities to be hid from our perception, in vain would we try to diſcover them by any argument, or proceſs of reaſoning: the attempt would be abſurd; no leſs ſo than an attempt to diſcover colour, by reaſon⯑ing, or taſte, or ſmell*.
[9] Right and wrong, as mentioned above, are qualities of voluntary actions, and of no other kind. An inſtinctive action is beneficial, is agreeable: but it cannot properly be denominated either right or wrong. An involuntary act is hurtful to the agent, and diſagreeable to the ſpec⯑tator; but in the agent it is neither right nor wrong. Theſe qualities alſo depend in no de⯑gree on the event. Thus, if, to ſave my friend from drowning, I plunge into a river, the action is right, though I happen to come too late. And if I aim a ſtroke at a man behind his back, the action is wrong, though I happen not to touch him.
The qualities of right and of agreeable, are in⯑ſeparable; and ſo are the qualities of wrong and of diſagreeable. A right action, accordingly, is agreeable, not only in the direct perception, but equally ſo in every ſubſequent recollection. And in both circumſtances equally, a wrong action is diſagreeable.
Right actions are diſtinguiſhed by the moral ſenſe into two kinds, viz. what ought to be done, and what may be done, or left undone. Wrong actions admit not that diſtinction: they are all prohibited to be done. To ſay that an action ought to be done, means that we are tied or obliged to perform; and to ſay that an action ought not to be done, means that we are reſtrain⯑ed from doing it. Though the neceſſity implied in the being tied or obliged, is not phyſical, but [10] only what is commonly termed moral; yet we conceive ourſelves deprived of liberty or freedom, and neceſſarily bound to act or to forbear acting, in oppoſition to every other motive. The neceſ⯑ſity here deſcribed is termed duty. The moral neceſſity we are under to forbear harming the in⯑nocent, is a proper example: the moral ſenſe de⯑clares the reſtraint to be our duty, which no mo⯑tive whatever will excuſe us for tranſgreſſing.
The duty of performing or forbearing any ac⯑tion, implies a right in ſome perſon to exact per⯑formance of that duty; and accordingly, a duty or obligation neceſſarily infers a correſponding right. A promiſe on my part to pay L. 100, confers a right to demand performance. The man who commits an injury, violates the right of the perſon injured, which entitles him to demand reparation of the wrong.
Duty is twofold; duty to others, and duty to ourſelves. With reſpect to the former, the doing what we ought to do, is termed juſt: the doing what we ought not to do, and the omitting what we ought to do, are termed unjuſt. With reſpect to ourſelves, the doing what we ought to do, is termed proper: the doing what we ought not to do, and the omitting what we ought to do, are termed improper. Thus, right, ſignifying a quality of certain actions, is a genus; of which juſt and proper are ſpecies: wrong, ſignifying a quality of other actions, is a genus; of which unjuſt and improper are ſpecies.
Right actions left to our free will, to be done, or left undone, come next in order. They are, like the former, right when done; but they dif⯑fer, in not being wrong when left undone. To remit a juſt debt for the ſake of a growing family, to yield a ſubject in controverſy rather than go to law with a neighbour, generouſly to return [11] good for ill, are examples of this ſpecies. They are univerſally approved as right actions: but as no perſon has a right or title to obligue us to per⯑form ſuch actions, the leaving them undone is not a wrong: no perſon is injured by the forbearance. Actions that come under this claſs, ſhall be termed arbitrary, for want of a more proper deſignation.
So much for right actions, and their diviſions. Wrong actions are of two kinds, criminal and cul⯑pable. What are done intentionally to produce miſchief, are criminal: ſuch raſh or unguarded actions as produce miſchief without intention, are culpable. The former are reſtrained by pu⯑niſhment, to be handled in the 5th ſection; the latter by reparation, to be handled in the 6th.
The diviſions of voluntary actions are not yet exhauſted. Some there are that, properly ſpeak⯑ing, cannot be denominated either right or wrong. Actions done merely for amuſement or paſtime, without intention to produce good or ill, are of that kind; leaping, for example, running, jumping over a ſtick, throwing a ſtone to make circles in the water. Such actions are neither approved nor diſapproved: they may be termed indifferent.
There is no cauſe for doubting the exiſtence of the moral ſenſe, more than for doubting the ex⯑iſtence of the ſenſe of beauty, of ſeeing, or of hearing. In fact, the perception of right and wrong as qualities of actions, is no leſs diſtinct and clear, than that of beauty, of colour, or of any other quality; and as every perception is an act of ſenſe, the ſenſe of beauty is not with grea⯑ter certainty evinced from the perception of beau⯑ty, than the moral ſenſe is from the perception of right and wrong. We find this ſenſe diſtributed among individuals in different degrees of perfec⯑tion: but there perhaps never exiſted any one [12] above the condition of an idiot, who poſſeſſed it not in ſome degree; and were any man intirely deſtitute of it, the terms right and wrong would be to him no leſs unintelligible, than the term colour is to one born blind.
That every individual is endued with a ſenſe of right and wrong, more or leſs diſtinct, will pro⯑bably be granted; but whether there be among men what may be termed a common ſenſe of right and wrong, producing uniformity of opinion as to right and wrong, is not ſo evident. There is no abſurdity in ſuppoſing the opinions of men about right and wrong, to be as various as about beauty and deformity: and that this ſuppoſition is not deſtitute of foundation, we are led to ſuſ⯑pect, upon diſcovering that in different countries, and even in the ſame country at different times, the opinions publicly eſpouſed with regard to right and wrong, are extremely various; that among ſome nations it was held lawful for a man to ſell his children for ſlaves, and in their infancy to abandon them to wild beaſts; that it was held equally lawful to puniſh children, even capitally, for the crime of their parent; that the murdering an enemy in cold blood, was once a common practice; that human ſacrifices, impious no leſs than immoral according to our notions, were of old univerſal; that even in later times, it has been held meritorious, to inflict cruel torments for the ſlighteſt deviations from the religious creed of the plurality; and that among the moſt en⯑lightened nations, there are conſiderable differen⯑ces with reſpect to the rules of morality.
Theſe facts tend not to diſprove the reality of a common ſenſe in morals: they only prove, that the moral ſenſe has not been equally perfect at all times, nor in all countries. This branch of the hiſtory of morality, is reſerved for the ſecond [13] part. To give ſome preſent ſatisfaction, I ſhall ſhortly obſerve, that the ſavage ſtate is the in⯑fancy of man; during which, the more delicate ſenſes lie dormant, leaving nations to the authori⯑ty of cuſtom, of imitation, and of paſſion, with⯑out any juſt taſte of morals more than of the fine arts: but nations, like individuals, ripen gradually, and acquire a refined taſte in morals as well as in the fine arts: after which we find great uniformity of opinion about the rules of right and wrong; with few exceptions, but what may proceed from im⯑becility, or corrupted education. There may be found, it is true, even in the moſt enlightened ages, men who have ſingular notions of morali⯑ty; and there may be found the like ſingularity upon many other ſubjects: which no more af⯑fords an argument againſt a common ſenſe or ſtandard of right and wrong, than a monſter doth againſt the ſtandard that regulates our external form, or than an exception doth againſt the truth of a general propoſition.
That there is in mankind an uniformity of opinion with reſpect to right and wrong, is a matter of fact of which the only infallible evi⯑dence is obſervation and experience: and to that evidence I appeal; entering only a caveat, that, for the reaſon above given, the enquiry be con⯑fined to enlightened nations. In the mean time, I take liberty to ſuggeſt an argument from analo⯑gy, That if there be great uniformity among the different tribes of men in ſeeing and hearing, in pleaſure and pain, in judging of truth and error, the ſame uniformity ought to hold with reſpect to right and wrong. Whatever minute differences there may be to diſtinguiſh one perſon from ano⯑ther, yet in the general principles that conſtitute our nature, internal and external, there is won⯑derful uniformity.
[14] This uniformity of ſentiment, which may be termed the common ſenſe of mankind with reſpect to right and wrong, is eſſential to ſocial beings. Did the moral ſentiments of men differ as much as their faces, they would be altogether unqualified for ſociety: diſcord and controverſy would be end⯑leſs, and major vis would be the only rule of me⯑um et tuum.
But ſuch uniformity of ſentiment, though ge⯑neral, is not altogether univerſal: men there are, as above mentioned, who differ from the com⯑mon ſenſe of mankind with reſpect to various points of morality. What ought to be the con⯑duct of ſuch men? ought they to regulate their conduct by that ſtandard, or by their private con⯑viction? There will be occaſion afterward to ob⯑ſerve, that we judge of others as we believe they judge of themſelves; and that private conviction is the ſtandard for rewards and puniſhmentsa. But with reſpect to every controverſy about pro⯑perty and pecuniary intereſt, and, in general, about every civil right and obligation, the common ſenſe of mankind is the ſtandard, and not private conviction or conſcience; which I ſhall endeavour to make out as follows.
We have an innate ſenſe of a common nature, not only in our own ſpecies, but in every ſpecies of animals. And that the fact correſponds to our ſenſe of it, is verified by experience; for there appears a remarkable uniformity in creatures of the ſame kind, and a difformity, no leſs remark⯑able, in creatures of a different kind. As that common nature is perceived to be a model or ſtandard for each individual of the kind, it raiſes wonder to find an individual deviating from the common nature of the ſpecies, whether in its in⯑ternal [15] or external ſtructure: a child born with averſion to its mother's milk, is a wonder, no leſs than if born without a mouth, or with more than one.
Secondly, The innate ſenſe mentioned dictates, that the common nature of man in particular, is invariable as well as univerſal; that it will be the ſame hereafter as it is at preſent, and as it was in time paſt, the ſame among all nations, and in all corners of the earth: nor are we deceived; becauſe, allowing for ſlight differences occaſioned by culture and other accidental circumſtances, the fact correſponds to our perception.
Thirdly, We perceive that this common nature is right and perfect, and that it ought to be a model or ſtandard for every human being. Any re⯑markable deviation from it in the ſtructure of an individual, appears imperfect or irregular; and raiſes a painful emotion: a monſtrous birth, exciting curioſity in philoſophers, fails not at the ſame time to excite averſion in every ſpectator.
This ſenſe of perfection in the common nature of man, comprehends every branch of his nature, and particularly the common ſenſe of mankind with reſpect to right and wrong; which accord⯑ingly is perceived by all to be perfect, having authority over all men as the ultimate and uner⯑ring ſtandard of morals, even in contradiction to private conviction. Thus, a law in our nature binds us to regulate our conduct by that ſtandard: its authority is univerſally acknowledged, as no⯑thing is more common in every diſpute about meum et tuum, than an appeal to it as the ultimate and unerring ſtandard.
At the ſame time, as that ſtandard through in⯑firmity or prejudice, is not conſpicuous to every individual, many are miſled into erroneous opini⯑ons, by miſtaking a falſe ſtandard for that of [16] nature. And hence a diſtinction between a right and a wrong ſenſe in morals; a diſtinction which every one underſtands, but which, unleſs for the conviction of a moral ſtandard, would be altoge⯑ther unintelligible.
The final cauſe of this branch of our nature is conſpicuous. Were there no ſtandard of right and wrong for determining endleſs controverſies about matters of intereſt, the ſtrong would have recourſe to force, the weak to cunning, and ſo⯑ciety would be intolerable. Courts of law could afford no remedy; for without a ſtandard of mo⯑rals, their deciſions would be arbitrary, and of no authority. Happy it is for men to be provided with ſuch a ſtandard: it is neceſſary in ſociety that our actions be uniform with reſpect to right and wrong; and in order to uniformity of action, it is neceſſary that our perceptions of right and wrong be alſo uniform: to pro⯑duce ſuch uniformity, a ſtandard of morals is in⯑diſpenſable. Nature has provided us with that ſtandard, which is daily applied by courts of law with ſucceſs.
In reviewing what is ſaid, it muſt afford great ſatisfaction, to find morality eſtabliſhed upon the moſt ſolid of all foundations, viz. intuitive per⯑ception, which is not only a ſingle mental act, but is complete in itſelf, having no dependence on any antecedent propoſition. The moſt accurate reaſoning affords not equal conviction; for every ſort of reaſoning, as explained in the ſketch im⯑mediately foregoing, requires not only ſelf-evident truths or axioms to found upon, but employs over and above various propoſitions to bring out its concluſions. By intuitive percep⯑tion ſolely, without reaſoning, we acquire know⯑ledge of right and wrong; of what we may do, of what we ought to do, and of what we ought [17] to abſtain from: and conſidering that we have thus greater certainty of moral laws, than of any propoſition diſcoverable by reaſoning, man may well be deemed a favourite of heaven, when he is ſo admirably qualified for acting the part that is agreeable to his Maker. The moral ſenſe or conſcience is the voice of God within us; con⯑ſtantly admoniſhing us of our duty, and requi⯑ring from us no exerciſe of our faculties but at⯑tention merely. The celebrated Locke ventured what he thought a bold conjecture, That moral duties might be ſuſceptible of demonſtration: how agreeable would the diſcovery have been to him, that they are founded upon intuitive per⯑ception, ſtill more convincing and authoritative!
By one branch of the moral ſenſe, we are taught what we ought to do, and what we ought not to do; and by another branch, what we may do, or leave undone. But ſociety would be im⯑perfect, if the moral ſenſe ſtopped here. There is no particular that tends more to complete ſo⯑ciety, than what is mentioned in the firſt ſection, viz. That every man is accountable for his con⯑duct to his fellow-creatures; and he is rendered accountable by a third branch of the moral ſenſe, which teaches him, that this is his duty. And it will be made evident afterward, in the 3d ſketch, that we are accountable to our Maker, as well as to our fellow-creatures.
To complete this theory, I add, that an action is right or wrong, independent of the actor's own opinion. Thus, when a man, excited by friendſhip or pity, reſcues a heretic from the flames, the action is right, even though he think it wrong, from a conviction that heretics ought to be burnt. But we apply a different rule to thoſe who act: a man is approved, and held to be innocent, when he does what he him⯑ſelf [18] thinks right; he is diſapproved, and held to be guilty, when he does what he himſelf thinks wrong. Thus, to aſſaſſinate an atheiſt for the ſake of religion, is a wrong action; and yet the enthuſiaſt who commits that wrong, may be innocent: and one is guilty who, againſt conſcience, eats meat in lent, though the action is not wrong. In ſhort, an action is perceiv⯑ed to be right or wrong, independent of the actor's own opinion: but he is approved or diſ⯑approved, held to be innocent or guilty, according to his own opinion.
SECT. III.
Laws of Nature reſpecting our MORAL CON⯑DUCT IN SOCIETY.
A Standard being thus eſtabliſhed for regulat⯑ing our moral conduct in ſociety, we pro⯑ceed to inveſtigate the laws that reſult from it. But firſt we take under conſideration, what other principles concur with the moral ſenſe to qualify men for ſociety.
[19] When we reflect on the different branches of human knowledge, it might ſeem, that of all ſubjects human nature ſhould be the beſt under⯑ſtood; becauſe every man has daily opportunities to ſtudy it, in his own paſſions and in his own actions. But human nature, an intereſting ſub⯑ject, is ſeldom left to the inveſtigation of philo⯑ſophy. Writers of a ſweet diſpoſition and warm imagination hold, that man is a benevolent be⯑ing, and that every man ought to direct his con⯑duct for the good of all, without regarding him⯑ſelf but as one of the numbera. Thoſe of a cold temperament, and contracted mind, hold him to be an animal entirely ſelfiſh; to evince which, examples are accumulated without endb. Neither of theſe ſyſtems is that of na⯑ture. The ſelfiſh ſyſtem is contradicted by the experience of all ages, affording the cleareſt evi⯑dence, that men frequently act for the ſake of others, without regarding themſelves, and ſome⯑times in direct oppoſition to their own intereſt. And however much ſelfiſhneſs may prevail in ac⯑tion, it certainly prevails not in ſentiment and affection: all men conſpire to put a high eſtima⯑tion upon generoſity, benevolence and other ſoci⯑al virtues; while even the moſt ſelfiſh are diſ⯑guſted with ſelfiſhneſs in others, and endeavour to hide it in themſelves. The moſt zealous pa⯑tron of the ſelfiſh principle will not venture to maintain, that it renders us altogether indifferent about our fellow-creatures. Laying aſide ſelf-intereſt, with every connection of love and ha⯑tred, good fortune happening to any one is agree⯑able [20] to all, and bad fortune happening to any one is diſagreeable to all. On the other hand, the ſyſtem of univerſal benevolence, is no leſs con⯑tradictory to experience: from which we learn, that men commonly are diſpoſed to prefer their own intereſt before that of others, eſpecially where there is no ſtrict connection: nor do we find that ſuch bias is oppoſed by the moral ſenſe. Man in fact is a complex being, compoſed of principles, ſome benevolent, ſome ſelfiſh: and theſe principles are ſo juſtly blended in his na⯑ture, as to fit him for acting a proper part in ſo⯑ciety. It would indeed be loſing time to prove, that without ſome affection for his fellow-crea⯑tures he would be ill qualified for ſociety. And it will be made evident afterwarda, that uni⯑verſal benevolence would be more hurtful to ſo⯑ciety, than even abſolute ſelfiſhneſs*.
We are now prepared for inveſtigating the laws that reſult from the foregoing principles. The ſeveral duties we owe to others ſhall be firſt [21] diſcuſſed, taking them in order, according to the extent of their influence. And for the ſake of perſpicuity, I ſhall firſt preſent them in a gene⯑ral view, and then proceed to particulars. Of our duties to others, one there is ſo extenſive, as to have for its object all the innocent part of mankind. It is the duty that prohibits us to hurt others: than which no law is more clearly dicta⯑ted by the moral ſenſe; nor is the tranſgreſſion of any other law more deeply ſtamped with the character of wrong. A man may be hurt ex⯑ternally in his goods, in his perſon, in his re⯑lations, and in his reputation. Hence the laws, Do not ſteal; Defraud not others; Do not kill nor wound; Be not guilty of defamation. A man may be hurt internally, by an action that occaſions to him diſtreſs of mind, or by being impreſſed with falſe notions of men and things. Therefore conſcience dictates, that we ought not to treat men diſreſpectfully; that we ought not cauſeleſsly to alienate their affections from others; and, in general, that we ought to forbear what⯑ever may tend to break their peace of mind, or tend to unqualify them for being good men, and good citizens.
The duties mentioned are duties of reſtraint. Our active duties regard particular perſons; ſuch as our relations, our friends, our benefac⯑tors, our maſters, our ſervants. It is our duty to honour and obey our parents; and to eſtabliſh our children in the world with all advantages internal and external: we ought to be faithful to our friends, grateful to our benefactors, ſub⯑miſſive to our maſters, kind to our ſervants, and to aid and comfort every one of theſe perſons when in diſtreſs. To be obliged to do good to others beyond theſe bounds, muſt depend on po⯑ſitive [22] engagement; for, as will appear afterward, univerſal benevolence is not a duty.
This general ſketch will prepare us for particu⯑lars. The duty of reſtraint comes firſt in view, that which bars us from harming the innocent; and to it correſponds a right in the innocent to be ſafe from harm. This is the great law prepa⯑ratory to ſociety; becauſe without it, ſociety could never have exiſted. Here the moral ſenſe is inflexible: it dictates, that we ought to ſub⯑mit to any diſtreſs, even death itſelf, rather than procure our own ſafety by laying violent hands upon an innocent perſon. And we are under the ſame reſtraint with reſpect to the property of an⯑other; for robbery and theft are never upon any pretext indulged. It is indeed true, that in ex⯑treme hunger I may lawfully take food where it can be found; and may freely lay hold of my neighbour's horſe, to carry me from an enemy who threatens death. But it is his duty as a fel⯑low creature to aſſiſt me in diſtreſs; and when there is no time for delay, I may lawfully uſe what he ought to offer were he preſent, and what I may preſume he would offer. For the ſame reaſon, if in a ſtorm my ſhip be driven among the anchor-ropes of another ſhip, I may lawfully cut the ropes in order to get free. But in every caſe of this kind, it would be a wrong in me to uſe my neighbour's property, without reſolving to pay the value. If my neighbour be bound to aid me in diſtreſs, conſcience binds me to make up his loſs*.
[23] The prohibition of hurting others internally, is perhaps not eſſential to the formation of ſocie⯑ties, becauſe the tranſgreſſion of that law doth [24] not much alarm plain people: but where man⯑ners and refined ſentiments prevail, the mind is ſuſceptible of more grievous wounds than the bo⯑dy; and therefore, without that law, a poliſhed ſociety could have no long endurance.
By adultery, miſchief is done both external and internal. Each ſex is ſo conſtituted, as to re⯑quire ſtrict fidelity and attachment in a mate: and the breach of theſe duties is the greateſt exter⯑nal harm that can befal them: it harms them alſo internally, by breaking their peace of mind. It has indeed been urged, that no harm will enſue, if the adultery be kept ſecret; and conſequently, that there can be no crime where there is no diſ⯑covery. But ſuch as reaſon thus do not advert, that to declare ſecret adultery to be lawful, is in effect to overturn every foundation of mutual truſt and fidelity in the married ſtate. It is clear beyond all doubt, ſays a reputable writer, that no man is permitted to violate his faith; and that the man is unjuſt and barbarous who deprives his wife of the only reward ſhe has for adhering to the auſtere duties of her ſex. But an unfaithful wife is ſtill more criminal, by diſſolving the whole ties of nature: in giving to her huſband children that are not his, ſhe betrays both, and joins per⯑fidy to infidelitya.
Veracity is commonly ranked among the active duties; but erroneouſly: for if a man be not bound to ſpeak, he cannot be bound to ſpeak truth. It is therefore only a reſtraining duty, prohibiting us to deceive others, by affirming what is not true. Among the many correſpond⯑ing principles in the human mind that in con⯑junction tend to make ſociety comfortable, a prin⯑ciple [25] of veracity*, and a principle that leads us to rely on human teſtimony, are two: without the latter, the former would be an uſeleſs prin⯑ciple; and without the former, the latter would lay us open to fraud and treachery. The moral ſenſe accordingly dictates, that we ought to ad⯑here ſtrictly to truth, without regard to conſe⯑quences.
It muſt not be inferred, that we are bound to explain our thoughts, when truth is demand⯑ed from us by unlawful means. Words uttered voluntarily, are naturally relied on, as expreſſing the ſpeaker's mind; and if his mind differ from his words, he tells a lie, and is guilty of deceit. But words drawn from a man by torture, are no indication of his mind; and he is not guilty of deceit in uttering whatever words may be agree⯑able, however alien from his thoughts: if the author of the unlawful violence ſuffer himſelf to be deceived, he ought to blame himſelf, not the ſpeaker.
It need ſcarce be mentioned, that the duty of veracity excludes not fable, nor any liberty of ſpeech intended for amuſement ſolely.
[26] Active duties, as hinted above, are all of them directed to particular perſons. And the firſt I ſhall mention is, that which ſubſiſts between a parent and child. The relation of parent and child, the ſtrongeſt that can exiſt between indi⯑viduals, binds theſe perſons to exert their utmoſt powers in mutual good offices. Benevolence among other blood-relations, is alſo a duty; but not ſo indiſpenſable, being proportioned to the inferior degree of relation.
Gratitude is a duty directed to the perſon who has been kind to us. But though gratitude is ſtrictly a duty, the meaſure of performance, and the kind, are left moſtly to our own choice. It is ſcarce neceſſary to add, that the active duties now mentioned, are acknowledged by all to be abſolutely inflexible, perhaps more ſo than the reſtraining duties: many find excuſes for doing harm; but no one hears with patience an ex⯑cuſe for deviating from truth, friendſhip, or gratitude.
Diſtreſs tends to convert benevolence into a du⯑ty. But diſtreſs alone is not ſufficient, without other concurring circumſtances: for to relieve every perſon in diſtreſs, is beyond the power of any human being. Our relations in diſtreſs claim that duty from us, and even our neighbours: but diſtant diſtreſs, without a particular connection, ſcarce rouſes our ſympathy, and never is an ob⯑ject of duty. Many other connections, too nu⯑merous for this ſhort eſſay, extend the duty of relieving others from diſtreſs; and theſe make a large branch of equity. Though in various in⯑ſtances, benevolence is thus converted into a du⯑ty by diſtreſs, it follows not, that the duty is al⯑ways proportioned to the degree of diſtreſs. Na⯑ture has more wiſely provided for the ſupport of virtue. A virtuous perſon in diſtreſs commands [27] our pity: a vicious perſon in diſtreſs has much leſs influence; and if by vice he have brought on the diſtreſs, indignation is raiſed, not pi⯑tya.
One great advantage of ſociety, is the co-operation of many to accompliſh ſome uſeful work, where a ſingle hand would be inſufficient. Arts, manufactures, and commercial dealings, re⯑quire many hands: but as hands cannot be ſecur⯑ed without a previous engagement, the perfor⯑mance of promiſes and covenants, is, upon that account, a capital duty in ſociety. In their ori⯑ginal occupations of hunting and fiſhing, men liv⯑ing ſcattered and diſperſed, have ſeldom oppor⯑tunity to aid and benefit each other; and in that ſituation, covenants being of little uſe, are little regarded: but huſbandry requiring the co-opera⯑tion of many hands, draws men together for mu⯑tual aſſiſtance; and then covenants make a figure: arts and commerce make them more and more ne⯑ceſſary; and in a poliſhed ſociety great regard is paid to them.
But contracts and promiſes are not confined to commercial dealings: they ſerve alſo to make be⯑nevolence a duty; and are even extended to con⯑nect the living with the dead: a man would die with regret, if he thought his friends were not bound by their promiſes, to fulfil his will after his death: and to quiet the minds of men with re⯑ſpect to futurity, the moral ſenſe makes the per⯑forming ſuch promiſes our duty. Thus, if I pro⯑miſe to my friend to erect a monument for him after his death, conſcience binds me, even though [28] no perſon alive be entitled to demand perfor⯑mance: every one perceives this to be my duty; and I muſt expect to ſuffer reproach and blame, if I neglect my engagement.
To fulfil a rational promiſe or covenant, deli⯑berately made, is a duty no leſs inflexible than thoſe duties are which ariſe independent of con⯑ſent. But as man is fallible, often miſled by ig⯑norance or error, and liable to be deceived, his condition would be deplorable, did the moral ſenſe compel him to fulfil every engagement, however imprudent or irrational. Here the mo⯑ral ſenſe gives way to human infirmity: it relieves from deceit, from impoſition, from ignorance, from error; and binds a man by no engagement but what anſwers the end fairly intended.
The other branch of duties, viz. thoſe we owe to ourſelves, ſhall be diſcuſſed in a few words. Propriety, a branch of the moral ſenſe, regulates our conduct with reſpect to ourſelves; as Juſtice, another branch of the moral ſenſe, regulates our conduct with reſpect to others. Propriety dic⯑tates, that we ought to act up to the dignity of our nature, and to the ſtation allotted us by Pro⯑vidence: it dictates in particular, that temper⯑ance, prudence, modeſty, and uniformity of con⯑duct, are ſelf duties. Theſe duties contribute to private happineſs, by preſerving health, peace of mind, and ſelf-eſteem; which are ineſtimable bleſſings: they contribute no leſs to happineſs in ſociety, by gaining the love and eſteem of others, and aid and ſupport in time of need.
Upon reviewing the foregoing duties reſpect⯑ing others, we find them more or leſs extenſive; but none ſo extenſive as to have for their end the good of mankind in general. The moſt ex⯑tenſive duty is that of reſtraint, prohibiting us to harm others: but even that duty has a limited [29] end; for its purpoſe is only to protect others from miſchief, not to do them any poſitive good. The active duties of doing poſitive good are circumſcribed within ſtill narrower bounds, re⯑quiring ſome relation that connects us with o⯑thers; ſuch as thoſe of parent, child, friend, benefactor. The ſlighter relations, unleſs in pe⯑culiar circumſtances, are not the foundation of any active duty: neighbourhood, for example, does not alone make benevolence a duty: but ſuppoſing a neighbour to be in diſtreſs, it be⯑comes our duty to relieve him, if it can be done without diſtreſs to ourſelves. The duty of reliev⯑ing from diſtreſs, ſeldom goes farther; for though we always ſympathiſe with our relations, and with thoſe under our eye, the diſtreſs of perſons remote and unknown affects us very little. Pac⯑tions and agreements become neceſſary, if we would extend the duty of benevolence, in any particular, beyond the limits mentioned. Men, it is true, are capable of doing more good than is required of them as a duty; but every ſuch good muſt be a free-will offering.
And this leads to arbitrary actions, viz. thoſe that may be done or left undone; which make the ſecond general head of moral actions. With reſpect to theſe, the moral ſenſe leaves us at freedom: a benevolent act is approved, but the omiſſion is not condemned. This holds ſtrictly in ſingle acts; but in viewing the whole of a man's conduct, the moral ſenſe appears to vary a little. As the nature of man is complex, partly ſocial, partly ſelfiſh, we have an intuitive per⯑ception, that our conduct ought to be con⯑formable to our nature; and that in advancing our own intereſt, we ought not altogether to ne⯑glect that of others. The man accordingly who confines his whole time and thoughts within his [30] own little ſphere, is condemned by all the world as guilty of wrong conduct; and the man him⯑ſelf, if his moral perceptions be not blunted by ſelfiſhneſs, muſt be ſenſible that he deſerves to be condemned. On the other hand, it is poſſible that free benevolence may be extended beyond proper bounds. The juſt temperament is a ſub⯑ordination of benevolence to ſelf-love: but where benevolence prevails, it commonly leads to ex⯑ceſs, by prompting a man to ſacrifice a great in⯑tereſt of his own to a ſmall intereſt of others; and the moral ſenſe dictates, that ſuch conduct is wrong.
Thus, moral actions are divided into two claſ⯑ſes: the firſt regards our duty, containing actions that ought to be done, and actions that ought not to be done; the other regards arbitrary actions, containing actions that are right when done, but not wrong when left undone. The well-being of ſociety depends more on the firſt claſs than on the ſecond: ſociety is indeed promoted by the latter; but it can ſcarce ſubſiſt, unleſs the former be made our duty. Hence it is, that actions only of the firſt claſs are made indiſpenſable; thoſe of the other claſs being left to our free-will. And hence alſo it is, that the various propenſities that diſpoſe us to actions of the firſt ſort, are diſtin⯑guiſhed by the name of primary virtues; leaving the name of ſecondary virtues to thoſe propenſi⯑ties which diſpoſe us to actions of the other ſort*.
[31] The deduction above given makes it evident, that the general tendency of right actions is to promote the good of ſociety, and of wrong acti⯑ons, to obſtruct that good. Univerſal benevo⯑lence is indeed not required of man; becauſe to put that principle in practice, is beyond his ut⯑moſt abilities. But for promoting the general good, every thing is required of him that he can accompliſh; which will appear from reviewing the foregoing duties. The prohibition of harm⯑ing others is an eaſy taſk; and upon that account is made univerſal. Our active duties are very different: man is circumſcribed both in capacity and power: he cannot do good but in a ſlow ſuc⯑ceſſion; and therefore it is wiſely ordered, that his obligation to do good ſhould be confined to his relations, his friends, his benefactors. Even diſtreſs makes not benevolence a general duty: all a man can readily do, is to relieve thoſe at hand; and accordingly we hear of diſtant misfor⯑tunes with little or no concern.
At the ſame time, let not the moral ſyſtem be miſapprehended, as if it were our duty, or even lawful, to proſecute what upon the whole we reckon the moſt beneficial to ſociety, balancing ill with good. The moral ſenſe permits not a vi⯑olation of any perſon's right, however trivial, whatever benefit may thereby accrue to another. A man, for example, in low circumſtances, by denying a debt he owes to a rich miſer, ſaves himſelf and a hopeful family from ruin. In that caſe, the good effect far outweighs the ill, or ra⯑ther has no counterbalance: but the moral ſenſe permits not the debtor to balance ill with good; nor gives countenance to an unjuſt act, whatever benefit it may produce. And hence a maxim in which all moraliſts agree, That we muſt not do [32] ill to bring about even the greateſt good; the fi⯑nal cauſe of which ſhall be given belowa.
SECT. IV.
Principles of DUTY and of BENEVOLENCE.
HAVING thus ſhortly delineated the moral laws of our nature, we proceed to an arti⯑cle of great importance, which is, to enquire in⯑to the means provided by our Maker for compel⯑ling obedience to theſe laws. The moral ſenſe is an unerring guide; but the moſt expert guide will not profit thoſe who are not diſpoſed to fol⯑low. This conſideration makes it evident, that to complete the moral ſyſtem, we ought to be en⯑dued with ſome principle or propenſity, ſome impulſive power, to enforce obedience to the laws dictated by the moral ſenſe.
The author of our nature leaves none of his works imperfect. In order to render us obſequi⯑ous to the moral ſenſe as our guide, he hath im⯑planted in our nature the principles of duty, of benevolence, of rewards and puniſhments, and of reparation. It may poſſibly be thought, that [33] rewards and puniſhments, of which afterward, are ſufficient of themſelves to enforce the laws of nature, without neceſſity of any other principle. Human laws, it is true, are enforced by theſe means; becauſe no higher ſanction is under com⯑mand of a terreſtrial legiſlator. But the celeſti⯑al legiſlator, with power that knows no control, and benevolence that knows no bounds, hath en⯑forced his laws by means no leſs remarkable for mildneſs than for efficacy: he employs no exter⯑nal compulſion; but, in order to engage our will on the right ſide, hath in the breaſt of every in⯑dividual eſtabliſhed the principles of duty and of benevolence, which efficaciouſly excite us to obey the dictates of the moral ſenſe.
As the reſtraining, as well as active duties, are eſſential to ſociety, our Maker has wiſely orde⯑red, that the principle which enforces theſe ſe⯑veral duties, ſhould be the moſt cogent of all that belong to our nature. Other principles may ſolicit, allure, or terrify; but the principle of duty aſſumes authority, commands, and muſt be obeyed.
As one great purpoſe of ſociety, is to furniſh opportunities without end of mutual aid and ſup⯑port, nature ſeconding that purpoſe, hath pro⯑vided the principle of benevolence; which ex⯑cites us to be kind, beneficent, and generous. Nor ought it to eſcape obſervation, that the Au⯑thor of nature, attentive to our wants and to our well-being, hath endued us with a liberal portion of that principle. It enforces benevolence, not only to thoſe we are connected with, but to our neighbours, and even to thoſe we are barely ac⯑quainted with. Providence is peculiarly attentive to objects in diſtreſs, who require immediate aid and relief. To the general principle of benevo⯑lence, it hath ſuperadded the paſſion of pity, [34] which in every feeling heart is irreſiſtible. To make benevolence more extenſive, would be fruitleſs, becauſe here are objects in plenty to fill the moſt capacious mind. It would not be fruitleſs only, but hurtful to ſociety: I ſay hurt⯑ful; for inability to procure gratification, rende⯑ring benevolence a troubleſome gueſt, would weaken the principle itſelf, and attach us the more to ſelfiſhneſs, which we can always gratify. At the ſame time, though there is not room for greater variety of particular objects, yet the fa⯑culty we have of uniting numberleſs individuals in one complex object, enlarges greatly the ſphere of benevolence: by that faculty our coun⯑try, our government, our religion, become ob⯑jects of public ſpirit, and of a lively affection. The individuals that compoſe the group, conſi⯑dered apart, may be too minute, or too diſtant, for our benevolence; but when comprehended in one great whole, accumulation makes them great, greatneſs renders them conſpicuous; and affecti⯑on, preſerved entire and undivided, is beſtowed upon an abſtract object, as upon one that is ſin⯑gle and viſible; but with much greater energy, being proportioned to its ſuperior dignity and im⯑portance. Thus it appears, that the principle of benevolence is not too ſparingly ſcattered among men. It is indeed made ſubordinate to ſelf-inte⯑reſt, which is wiſely ordered, as will afterward be made evidenta; but its power and extent are nicely proportioned to the limited capacity of man, and to his ſituation in this world; ſo as better to fulfil its deſtination, than if it were an overmatch for ſelf-intereſt, and for every other principle.
SECT. V.
Laws reſpecting REWARDS and PUNISHMENTS.
[35]REFLECTING on the moral branch of our nature, qualifying us for ſociety in a man⯑ner ſuited to our capacity, we cannot overlook the hand of our Maker; for means ſo finely ad⯑juſted to an important end, never happen by chance. It muſt however be acknowledged, that in many individuals, the principle of duty has not vigour nor authority ſufficient to ſtem every tide of unruly paſſion: by the vigilance of ſome paſſions, we are taken unguarded; deluded by the fly inſinuations of others; or overwhelmed with the ſtormy impetuoſity of a third ſort. Moral evil is thus introduced; and much wrong is done. This new ſcene ſuggeſts to us, that there muſt be ſome article ſtill wanting, to complete the mo⯑ral ſyſtem. The means provided for directing us in the road of duty have been explained: but as in deviating from the road wrongs are committed, nothing hitherto has been ſaid, about redreſſing ſuch wrongs, nor about preventing the reiteration of them. To accompliſh theſe important ends, there are added to the moral ſyſtem, laws rela⯑tive [36] to rewards and puniſhments, and to repara⯑tion; of which in their order.
Many animals are qualified for ſociety by in⯑ſtinct merely; ſuch as beavers, ſheep, monkeys, bees, rooks. But men are ſeldom led by inſtinct: their actions are commonly prompted by paſſions; of which there is an endleſs variety, ſocial and ſelfiſh, benevolent and malevolent. And were every paſſion equally entitled to gratification, man would be utterly unqualified for ſociety: he would be a ſhip without a rudder, obedient to every wind, and moving at random, without any ultimate deſtination. The faculty of reaſon would make no oppoſition: for were there no ſenſe of wrong, it would be reaſonable to gratify every deſire that harms not ourſelves: and to talk of puniſhment would be abſurd; for puniſhment, in its very idea, implies ſome wrong that ought to be redreſſed. Hence the neceſſity of the moral ſenſe, to qualify us for ſociety: by inſtructing us in our duty, it renders us accountable for our conduct, and makes us ſuſceptible of rewards and puniſhments. The moral ſenſe fulfils another valuable purpoſe: it erects in man an unerring ſtandard for the application and meaſure of re⯑wards and puniſhments.
To complete the ſyſtem of rewards and puniſh⯑ments, it is neceſſary that a proviſion be made, both of power and of willingneſs to reward and puniſh. The Author of our nature hath provi⯑ded amply for the former, by entitling every man to reward and puniſh as his native privilege. And he has provided for the latter, by a noted principle in our nature, prompting us to exerciſe the power. Impelled by that principle, we re⯑ward the virtuous with approbation and eſteem, and puniſh the vicious with diſapprobation and contempt. So prevalent is the principle, that [37] we have great ſatisfaction in rewarding, and no leſs in puniſhing.
As to puniſhment in particular, an action done intentionally to produce miſchief, is criminal, and merits puniſhment. Such an action, being diſa⯑greeable, raiſes my reſentment, even where I have no connection with the perſon injured; and the principle under conſideration impels me to chaſtiſe the delinquent with indignation and hatred. An injury done to myſelf raiſes my re⯑ſentment to a higher tone: I am not ſatisfied with ſo ſlight a puniſhment as indignation and hatred: the author muſt by my hand ſuffer miſchief, as great as he has made me ſuffer.
Even the moſt ſecret crime eſcapes not puniſh⯑ment. The delinquent is tortured with remorſe: he even deſires to be puniſhed; ſometimes ſo ardently, as himſelf to be the executioner. There cannot be imagined a contrivance more effectual, to deter one from vice; for remorſe is itſelf a grievous puniſhment. Self-puniſhment goes ſtill farther: every criminal, ſenſible that he ought to be puniſhed, dreads puniſhment from others; and this dread, however ſmothered during proſ⯑perity, breaks out in adverſity, or in depreſſion of mind: his crime ſtares him in the face, and every accidental misfortune is in his diſturbed imagination interpreted to be a puniſhment. ‘"And they ſaid one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we ſaw the anguiſh of his ſoul, when he beſought us; and we would not hear: therefore is this diſ⯑treſs come upon us. And Reuben anſwered them, ſaying, Spake I not unto you, ſaying, Do not ſin againſt the child; and ye would [38] not hear? therefore behold alſo his blood is requireda"’ *.
[39] No tranſgreſſion of ſelf-duty eſcapes puniſh⯑ment, more than tranſgreſſion of duty to others. The puniſhments, though not the ſame, differ in degree more than in kind. Injuſtice is puniſhed with remorſe: impropriety with ſhame, which is remorſe in a lower degree. Injuſtice raiſes in⯑dignation in the beholder, and ſo doth every fla⯑grant impropriety: ſlighter improprieties receive a milder puniſhment, being rebuked with ſome degree of contempt, and commonly with deri⯑ſiona.
So far we have been led in a beaten track; but in attempting to proceed, we are entangled in mazes and intricacies. An action well intended, may happen to produce no good; and an action ill intended, may happen to produce no miſchief: a man overawed by fear, may be led to do miſ⯑chief againſt his will; and a perſon, miſtaking the ſtandard of right and wrong, may be inno⯑cently led to do acts of injuſtice. By what rule, in ſuch caſes, are rewards and puniſhments to be applied? Ought a man to be rewarded when he does no good, or puniſhed when he does no miſ⯑chief: ought he to be puniſhed for doing miſ⯑chief againſt his will, or for doing miſchief when he thinks he is acting innocently? Theſe queſ⯑tions ſuggeſt a doubt, whether the ſtandard of right and wrong be applicable to rewards and puniſhments.
[40] We have ſeen that there is an invariable ſtan⯑dard of right and wrong, which depends not in any degree on private opinion or conviction. By that ſtandard, all pecuniary claims are judged, all claims of property, and, in a word, every de⯑mand founded on intereſt, not excepting repara⯑tion, as will afterward appear. But with reſpect to the moral characters of men, and with reſpect to rewards and puniſhments, a different ſtandard is erected in the common ſenſe of mankind, nei⯑ther rigid nor inflexible; which is, the opinion that men have of their own actions. It is mentioned above, that a man is eſteemed innocent in doing what he himſelf thinks right, and guilty in doing what he himſelf thinks wrong. In applying this ſtandard to rewards and puniſhments, we reward thoſe who in doing wrong are however convinced that they are innocent; and puniſh thoſe who in doing right are however convinced that they are guilty*. Some, it is true, are ſo perverted by bad education, or by ſuperſtition, as to eſpouſe numberleſs abſurd tenets, contradictory to the ſtandard of right and wrong; and yet ſuch men are no exception from the general rule: if they act according to conſcience, they are innocent, and ſafe againſt puniſhment, however wrong the action may be; and if they act againſt conſci⯑ence, they are guilty and puniſhable, however right the action may be: it is abhorrent to every moral perception, that a guilty perſon be reward⯑ed, or an innocent perſon puniſhed. Further, if miſchief be done contrary to Will, as where a [41] man is compelled by fear, or by torture, to reveal the ſecrets of his party; he may be grieved for yielding to the weakneſs of his nature, contrary to his firmeſt reſolves; but he has no check of conſcience, and upon that account is not liable to puniſhment. And, laſtly, in order that perſonal merit and demerit may not in any meaſure depend on chance, we are ſo conſtituted as to place in⯑nocence and guilt, not on the event, but on the intention of doing right or wrong; and accord⯑ingly, whatever be the event, a man is praiſed for an action well intended, and condemned for an action ill intended.
But what if a man intending a certain wrong, happen by accident to do a wrong he did not in⯑tend; as, for example, intending to rob a warren by ſhooting the rabbits, he accidentally wounds a child unſeen behind a buſh? The delinquent ought to be puniſhed for intending to rob; and he is alſo ſubjected to repair the hurt done to the child: but he cannot be puniſhed for the acci⯑dental wound; becauſe our nature regulates puniſhment by the intention, and not by the event*.
[42] A crime againſt any primary virtue is attended with ſevere and never-failing puniſhment, more efficacious than any that have been invented to enforce municipal laws: on the other hand, the preſerving primary virtues inviolate, is attended with little merit. The ſecondary virtues are di⯑rectly oppoſite: the neglecting them is not attend⯑ed with any puniſhment; but the practice of them is attended with illuſtrious rewards. Offices of un⯑deſerved kindneſs, returns of good for ill, generous toils and ſufferings for our friends or for our coun⯑try, are attended with conſciouſneſs of ſelf-merit, and with univerſal praiſe and admiration; the higheſt rewards human nature is ſuſceptible of.
[43] From what is ſaid, the following obſervation will occur: The pain of tranſgreſſing juſtice, fi⯑delity, or any duty, is much greater than the plea⯑ſure of performing; but the pain of neglecting a generous action, or any ſecondary virtue, is as no⯑thing, compared with the pleaſure of performing. Among the vices oppoſite to the primary virtues, the moſt ſtriking moral deformity is found; among the ſecondary virtues, the moſt ſtriking moral beauty.
SECT. VI.
Laws reſpecting REPARATION.
THE principle of reparation is made a branch of the moral ſyſtem for accompliſhing two ends: which are, to repreſs wrongs that are not criminal, and to make up the loſs ſuſtained by wrongs of whatever kind. With reſpect to the former, reparation is a ſpecies of puniſhment: with reſpect to the latter, it is an act of juſtice. Theſe ends will be better underſtood, after aſcer⯑taining the nature and foundation of reparation; to which the following diviſion of actions is ne⯑ceſſary. Firſt, actions that we are bound to per⯑form. Second, actions that we perform in pro⯑ſecution [44] of a right or privilege. Third, indiffe⯑rent actions, deſcribed above. Actions of the firſt kind ſubject not a man to reparation, whate⯑ver damage enſues; becauſe it is his duty to per⯑form them, and it would be inconſiſtent with morality that a man ſhould be ſubjected to repa⯑ration for doing his duty. The laws of reparation that concern actions of the ſecond kind, are more complex. The ſocial ſtate, highly beneficial by affording opportunity for mutual good offices, is attended with ſome inconveniencies; as where a perſon happens to be in a ſituation of neceſſarily harming others by exerciſing a right or privilege. If the foreſight of harming another, reſtrain me not from exerciſing my right, the intereſt of that other is made ſubſervient to mine: on the other hand, if ſuch foreſight reſtrain me from exerci⯑ſing my right, my intereſt is made ſubſervient to his. What doth the moral ſenſe provide in that caſe? To preſerve as far as poſſible an equality among perſons born free, and by nature equal in rank, the moral ſenſe lays down a rule, no leſs beautiful than ſalutary; which is, That the exerciſing a right will not juſtify me for doing direct miſchief; but will juſtify me, though I foreſee that miſchief may poſſibly happen. The firſt branch of the rule reſolves into a pro⯑poſition eſtabliſhed above, viz. That no intereſt of mine, not even life itſelf, will authoriſe me to hurt an innocent perſon. The other branch is ſupported by expediency: for if the bare poſſibi⯑lity of hurting others were ſufficient to reſtrain a man from proſecuting his rights and privileges, men would be too much cramped in action; or rather would be reduced to a ſtate of abſolute inactivity. With reſpect to the firſt branch, I am criminal, and liable even to puniſhment: with [45] reſpect to the other, I am not even culpable, nor bound to repair the miſchief that happens to enſue.
With reſpect to the third kind, viz. indifferent actions, the moral ſenſe dictates, that we ought carefully to avoid doing miſchief, either direct or conſequential. As we ſuffer no loſs by forbearing actions that are done for paſtime merely, ſuch an action is culpable or faulty, if the conſequent miſchief was foreſeen or might have been fore⯑ſeen; and the actor of courſe is ſubjected to re⯑paration. As this is a cardinal point in the doctrine of reparation, I ſhall endeavour to ex⯑plain it more fully. Without intending any harm, a man may foreſee, that what he is about to do will probably or poſſibly produce miſchief; and ſometimes miſchief follows that was neither in⯑tended nor foreſeen. The action in the former caſe is not criminal; becauſe ill intention is eſ⯑ſential to a crime: but it is culpable or faulty; and if miſchief enſue, the actor blames himſelf, and is blamed by others, for having done what he ought not to have done. Thus, a man who throws a large ſtone among a crowd of people, is highly culpable; becauſe he muſt foreſee that miſchief will probably enſue, though he has no intention to hurt any perſon. As to the latter caſe, though miſchief was neither intended nor foreſeen, yet if it might have been foreſeen, the action is raſh or uncautious, and conſequently cul⯑pable or faulty in ſome degree. Thus, if a man in pulling down an old houſe, happen to wound one paſſing accidentally, without calling aloud to keep out of the way, the action is in ſome de⯑gree culpable, becauſe the miſchief might have been foreſeen. But though miſchief enſue, an action is not culpable or faulty if all reaſonable precaution have been adhibited: the moral ſenſe [46] declares the author to be innocent* and blame⯑leſs: the miſchief is accidental, and the action may be termed unlucky, but comes not under the denomination of either right or wrong. In ge⯑neral, when we act merely for amuſement, our nature makes us anſwerable for the harm that enſues, if it was either foreſeen or might with due attention have been foreſeen. But our rights and privileges would profit us little, if their ex⯑erciſe were put under the ſame reſtraint: it is more wiſely ordered, that the probability of miſ⯑chief, even foreſeen, ſhould not reſtrain a man from proſecuting his concerns which may often be of conſequence to him. He proceeds ac⯑cordingly with a ſafe conſcience, and is not afraid of being blamed either by God or man.
With reſpect to raſh or uncautious actions, where the miſchief might have been foreſeen though not actually foreſeen, it is not ſufficient to eſcape blame, that a man, naturally raſh or inattentive, acts according to his character: a de⯑gree of precaution is required, both by himſelf and by others, ſuch as is natural to the generality of men: he perceives that he might and ought to have acted more cautiouſly; and his conſcience reproaches him for his inattention, no leſs than if he were naturally more ſedate and atten⯑tive. Thus the circumſpection natural to mankind in general, is applied as a ſtandard to every individual; and if they fall ſhort of that ſtandard, they are culpable and blameable, [47] however unforeſeen by them the miſchief may have been.
What is ſaid upon culpable actions is equally applicable to culpable omiſſions; for by theſe alſo miſchief may be occaſioned, entitling the ſufferer to reparation. If we forbear to do our duty with an intention to occaſion miſchief, the forbearance is criminal. The only queſtion is, how far forbearance without ſuch intention is culpable. Suppoſing the probability of miſchief to have been foreſeen, though not intended, the omiſſion is highly culpable; and though neither intended nor foreſeen, yet the omiſſion is culpable in a lower degree, if there have been leſs care and attention than are proper for performing the duty required. But ſuppoſing all due care, the omiſſion of extreme care and diligence is not cul⯑pable.
By aſcertaining what acts and omiſſions are cul⯑pable or faulty, the doctrine of reparation is ren⯑dered extremely ſimple; for it may be laid down as a rule without a ſingle exception, That every culpable act, and every culpable omiſſion, binds us in conſcience to repair the miſchief occaſioned by it. The moral ſenſe binds us no farther; for it loads not with reparation the man who is blame⯑leſs and innocent: the harm is accidental; and we are ſo conſtituted as not to be reſponſible in conſcience for what happens by accident. But here it is requiſite, that the man be in every reſpect innocent: for if he intend harm, though not what he has done, he will find himſelf bound in conſcience to repair the accidental harm he has done; as, for example, when aiming a blow un⯑juſtly at one in the dark, he happens to wound an⯑other whom he did not ſuſpect to be there. And hence it is a rule in all municipal laws, That one verſans in illicito is liable to repair every con⯑ſequent [48] damage. That theſe particulars are wiſely ordered by the Author of our nature for the good of ſociety, will appear afterwardsa. In ge⯑neral, the rules above mentioned are dictated by the moral ſenſe; and we are compelled to obey them by the principle of reparation.
We are now prepared for a more particular in⯑ſpection of the two ends of reparation above mentioned, viz. the repreſſing wrongs that are not criminal, and the making up what loſs is ſuſ⯑tained by wrongs of whatever kind. With re⯑ſpect to the firſt, it is clear, that puniſhment, in its proper ſenſe, cannot be inflicted for a wrong that is culpable only; and if nature did not pro⯑vide ſome means for repreſſing ſuch wrongs, ſo⯑ciety would ſcarce be a comfortable ſtate. Lay⯑ing conſcience aſide, pecuniary reparation is the only remedy that can be provided againſt culpable omiſſions: and with reſpect to culpable commiſ⯑ſions, the neceſſity of reparation is ſtill more ap⯑parent; for conſcience alone, without the ſanc⯑tion of reparation, would ſeldom have authority ſufficient to reſtrain us from acting raſhly or un⯑cautiouſly, even where the poſſibility of miſ⯑chief is foreſeen, and far leſs where it is not foreſeen.
With reſpect to the ſecond end of reparation, my conſcience dictates to me, that if a man ſuf⯑fer by my fault, whether the miſchief was fore⯑ſeen or not foreſeen, it is my duty to make up his loſs; and I perceive intuitively, that the loſs ought to reſt ultimately upon me, and not upon the ſufferer, who has not been culpable in any degree.
In every caſe where the miſchief done can be eſtimated by a pecuniary compenſation, the two [49] ends of reparation coincide. The ſum is taken from the one as a ſort of puniſhment for his fault, and is beſtowed on the other to make up the loſs he has ſuſtained. But in numberleſs caſes where miſchief done cannot be compenſated with mo⯑ney, reparation is in its nature a ſort of puniſh⯑ment. Defamation, contemptuous treatment, per⯑ſonal reſtraint, the breaking one's peace of mind, are injuries that cannot be repaired by money; and the pecuniary reparation decreed againſt the wrong-doer, can only be a ſort of puniſhment, in order to deter him from reiterating ſuch inju⯑ries: the ſum, it is true, is awarded to the per⯑ſon injured; but not as ſufficient to make up his loſs, which money cannot do, but only as a ſola⯑tium for what he has ſuffered.
Hitherto it is ſuppoſed, that the man who in⯑tends a wrong action, is, at the ſame time, con⯑ſcious of its being ſo. But a man may intend a wrong action, thinking erroneouſly that it is right; or a right action, thinking erroneouſly that it is wrong; and the queſtion is, What ſhall be the conſequence of ſuch errors with reſpect to reparation. The latter caſe is clear: the perſon who occaſionally ſuffers loſs by a right action, has not a claim for reparation, becauſe he has no juſt cauſe of complaint. On the other hand, if the action be wrong, the innocence of the author, for which he is indebted to an error in judgment, will not relieve him from reparation. When he is made ſenſible of his error, he feels himſelf bound in conſcience to repair the harm he has done by a wrong action: and others, ſenſible of his error from the beginning, have the ſame feel⯑ing: nor will his obſtinacy in reſiſting conviction, or his dullneſs in not apprehending his error, mend the matter: it is well that theſe defects re⯑lieve him from puniſhment, without wronging [50] others by denying a claim for reparation. A man's errors ought to affect himſelf only, and not thoſe who have not erred. Hence in general, repara⯑tion always follows wrong; and is not affected by any erroneous opinion of a wrong action being right, more than of a right action being wrong.
But this doctrine ſuffers an exception with re⯑ſpect to a man, who having undertaken a truſt, is bound in duty to act. A judge is in that ſitua⯑tion: it is his duty to pronounce ſentence in eve⯑ry caſe that comes before him; and if he judge according to the beſt of his knowledge, he is not liable for conſequences. A judge cannot be ſub⯑jected to reparation, unleſs it can be verified, that the judgment he gave was intentionally wrong. An officer of the revenue is in the ſame predicament. Led by a doubtful clauſe in a ſta⯑tute, he makes a ſeizure of goods as forfeited to the crown, which afterward, in the proper court, are found not to be ſeizable. The officer ought not to be ſubjected to reparation, if he have act⯑ed to the beſt of his judgment. This rule how⯑ever muſt be taken with a limitation: a public officer who is groſsly erroneous, will not be ex⯑cuſed; for he ought to know better.
Reparation is due, though the immediate act be involuntary, provided it be connected with a preceding voluntary act. Example: ‘"If A ride an unruly horſe in Lincolns-inn fields, to tame him, and the horſe breaking from A, run over B and grievouſly hurt him; B ſhall have an action againſt A: for though the miſ⯑chief was done againſt the will of A, yet ſince it was his fault to bring a wild horſe into a frequented place, where miſchief might enſue, he muſt anſwer for the conſequences."’ Gai⯑us ſeems to carry this rule ſtill farther, holding in general, that if a horſe, by the weakneſs or un⯑ſkilfulneſs [51] of the rider, break away and do miſ⯑chief, the rider is liablea. But Gaius proba⯑bly had in his eye a frequented place, where the miſchief might have been foreſeen. Thus in ge⯑neral a man is made liable for the miſchief occaſi⯑oned by his voluntary deed, though the immedi⯑ate act that occaſioned the miſchief be involun⯑tary.
SECT. VII.
FINAL CAUSES of the foregoing Laws of Nature.
SEVERAL final cauſes have been occaſionally mentioned in preceding parts of this eſſay, which could not conveniently be reſerved for the preſent ſection, being neceſſary for explaining the ſubjects to which they relate, the final cauſe for inſtance of erecting a ſtandard of morals up⯑on the common ſenſe of mankind. I proceed now to what have not been mentioned, or but ſlight⯑ly mentioned.
The final cauſe that preſents itſelf firſt to view, reſpects man conſidered as an accountable being. The ſenſe of being accountable, is one [52] of our moſt vigilant guards againſt the ſilent at⯑tacks of vice. When a temptation moves me, it immediately occurs, What will the world ſay? I imagine my friends expoſtulating, my enemies reviling—I dare not diſſemble—my ſpirits ſink—the temptation vaniſhes. 2dly, Praiſe and blame, eſpecially from thoſe we regard, are ſtrong incentives to virtue: but if we were not accountable for our conduct, praiſe and blame would be ſeldom well directed; for how ſhould a man's intentions be known, without calling him to account? And praiſe or blame, frequently ill⯑directed, would loſe their influence. 3dly, This branch of our nature, is the corner-ſtone of the criminal law. Did not a man think himſelf ac⯑countable to all the world, and to his judge in a peculiar manner, it would be natural for him to think, that the juſteſt ſentence pronounced againſt him, is oppreſſion, not juſtice. 4thly, This branch is a ſtrong cement to ſociety. If we were not accountable beings, thoſe connected by blood, or by country, would be no leſs ſhy and reſerved, than if they were mere ſtrangers to each other.
The final cauſe that next occurs, being ſimple and obvious, is mentioned only that it may not ſeem to have been overlooked. All right actions are agreeable, all wrong actions diſagreeable. This is a wiſe appointment of Providence. We meet with ſo many temptations againſt duty, that it is not always an eaſy taſk to perſevere in the right path: would we perſevere, were duty diſa⯑greeable? And were acts of pure benevolence diſagreeable, they would be extremely rare, however worthy of praiſe.
Another final cauſe reſpects duty, in contradiſ⯑tinction to pure benevolence. All the moral laws are founded on intuitive perception; and are ſo ſimple and plain, as to be perfectly apprehended [53] by the moſt ignorant. Were they in any degree complex or obſcure, they would be perverted by ſelfiſhneſs and prejudice. No conviction inferior to what is afforded by intuitive perception, could produce in mankind a common ſenſe with reſpect to moral duties. Reaſon would afford no gene⯑ral conviction; becauſe that faculty is diſtributed in portions ſo unequal, as to bar all hopes from it of uniformity either in practice or in opinion. At the ſame time, we are taught by woful expe⯑rience, that reaſon has little influence over the greater part of men. Reaſon, it is true, aided by experience, ſupports morality, by convincing us, that we cannot be happy if we abandon du⯑ty for any other intereſt. But conviction ſeldom weighs much againſt imperious paſſion; to con⯑trol which the vigorous and commanding princi⯑ple of duty is requiſite, directed by the ſhining light of intuition.
A propoſition laid down above appears to be a ſort of myſtery in the moral ſyſtem, viz. That though evidently all moral duties are contrived for promoting the general good, yet that choice is not permitted among different goods, or between good and ill; and that we are ſtrictly tied down to perform or forbear certain particular acts, without regard to conſequences; or, in other words, that we muſt not do wrong, whatever good it may produce. The final cauſe, which I am about to unfold, will clear this myſtery, and ſet the beauty of the moral ſyſtem in a conſpicu⯑ous light. I begin with obſerving, that as the general good of mankind, or even of the ſociety we live in, reſults from many and various cir⯑cumſtances intricately combined, it is far above the capacity of man, to judge in every inſtance what particular actions will tend the moſt to that end. The authoriſing therefore a man to trace [54] out his duty, by weighing endleſs circumſtances good and ill, would open a wide door to partiali⯑ty and paſſion, and often lead him unwittingly to prefer the preponderating ill, under a falſe ap⯑pearance of being the greater good. At that rate, the opinions of men about right and wrong, would be as various as their faces; which, as obſerved above, would totally unhinge ſociety. It is better ordered by Providence, even for the general good, that, avoiding complex and ob⯑ſcure objects, we are directed by the moral ſenſe to perform certain plain and ſimple acts, which are obvious to us by intuitive perception.
In the next place, To permit ill in order to produce greater good, may ſuit a being of uni⯑verſal benevolence; but is repugnant to the na⯑ture of man, compoſed of ſelfiſh and benevolent principles. We have ſeen above, that the true moral balance depends on a ſubordination of ſelf-love to duty, and of arbitrary benevolence to ſelf-love; and accordingly every man is ſenſible of injuſtice when he is hurt in order to benefit another. Were it a rule in ſociety, That a grea⯑ter good to any other would make it an act of juſtice to deprive me of my life, of my reputa⯑tion, or of my property, I ſhould renounce the ſociety of men, and aſſociate with more harmleſs animals.
Thirdly, The true moral ſyſtem, that which is diſplayed above, is not only better ſuited to the nature of man, and to his limited capacity and intelligence, but contributes more to the general good, which I now proceed to demonſtrate. It would be loſing time to prove, that a man entire⯑ly ſelfiſh is ill fitted for ſociety; and we have ſeena, that univerſal benevolence, were it a [55] duty, would contribute to the general good per⯑haps leſs than abſolute ſelfiſhneſs. Man is too limited in capacity and in power for univerſal be⯑nevolence. Even the greateſt monarch has not power to exerciſe his benevolence but within a very ſmall compaſs; and if ſo, how unfit would ſuch a duty be for private perſons, who have ve⯑ry little power? Serving only to diſtreſs them by inability of performance, they would endeavour to ſmother it altogether, and give full ſcope to ſelfiſhneſs. Man is much better qualified for do⯑ing good, by a conſtitution in which benevolence is duly blended with ſelf-love. Benevolence, as a duty, takes place of ſelf-love; a regulation eſſential to ſociety. Benevolence, as a virtue, not a duty, gives place to ſelf-love; becauſe as every man has more power, knowledge and oppor⯑tunity, to promote his own good than that of others, a greater quantity of good is produced, than if benevolence were our only principle of action. This holds, even ſuppoſing no harm done to any perſon: much more would it hold, were we permitted to hurt ſome, in order to pro⯑duce more good to others.
The foregoing final cauſes reſpect morality in general. We now proceed to particulars; and the firſt and moſt important is the law of re⯑ſtraint. Man is evidently framed for ſociety: and as there can be no ſociety among creatures who prey upon each other, it was neceſſary to provide againſt mutual injuries; which is effec⯑tually done by this law. Its neceſſity with re⯑ſpect to perſonal ſecurity is ſelf-evident; and with reſpect to property, its neceſſity will appear from what follows. In the nature of every man, there is a propenſity to hoard or ſtore up things uſeful to himſelf and family. But this natural propenſity would be rendered ineffectual, were he [56] not ſecured in the poſſeſſion of what he thus ſtores up; for no man will toil to accumulate what he cannot ſecurely poſſeſs. This ſecurity is afforded by the moral ſenſe, which dictates, that the firſt occupant of goods provided by nature for the ſubſiſtence of man, ought to be ſecure in his poſſeſſion, and that ſuch goods ought to be inviolable as his property. Thus, by the great law of reſtraint, men have a protection for their goods, as well as for their perſons; and are no leſs ſecure in ſociety, than if they were ſeparated from each other by impregna⯑ble walls.
Several other duties are little leſs eſſential than that of reſtraint to the exiſtence of ſociety. Mutual truſt and confidence, without which ſociety would be an uncomfortable ſtate, enter into the cha⯑racter of the human ſpecies; to which the duties of veracity and fidelity correſpond. The final cauſe of theſe correſponding duties, is obvious: the latter would be of no uſe in ſociety without the former; and the former, without the latter, would be hurtful, by laying men open to fraud and deceit.
With reſpect to veracity in particular, man is ſo conſtituted, that he muſt be indebted to infor⯑mation for the knowledge of moſt things that be⯑nefit or hurt him; and if he could not depend upon information, ſociety would be very little beneficial. Further, it is wiſely ordered, that we ſhould be bound by the moral ſenſe always to ſpeak truth, even where we perceive no harm in tranſgreſſing that duty; becauſe it is ſufficient that harm may enſue, though not foreſeen. At the ſame time, falſehood always does miſchief: it may happen not to injure us externally in our reputation, or in our goods: but it never fails to injure us internally; for one great bleſſing of ſo⯑ciety [57] is, a candid intercourſe of ſentiments, of opinions, of deſires, of wiſhes; and to admit any falſehood in ſuch intercourſe, would poiſon the moſt refined pleaſures of life.
Becauſe man is the weakeſt of all animals in a ſtate of ſeparation; and the very ſtrongeſt in ſo⯑ciety, by mutual aid and ſupport to which cove⯑nants and promiſes greatly contribute, theſe are made binding by the moral ſenſe.
The final cauſe of the law of propriety, which enforces the duty we owe to ourſelves, comes next in order. In diſcourſing upon thoſe laws of na⯑ture which concern ſociety, there is no occaſion to mention any ſelf-duty but what relates to ſo⯑ciety; of which kind are prudence, temperance, induſtry, firmneſs of mind. And that ſuch qua⯑lities ſhould be made our duty, is wiſely ordered in a double reſpect; firſt, as qualifying us to act a proper part in ſociety, and next, as intitling us to good-will from others. It is the intereſt, no doubt, of every man, to ſuit his behaviour to the dignity of his nature, and to the ſtation allot⯑ted him by Providence; for ſuch rational conduct contributes to happineſs, by preſerving health, procuring plenty, gaining the eſteem of others, and, which of all is the greateſt bleſſing, by gain⯑ing a juſtly-founded ſelf-eſteem. But here inte⯑reſt ſolely is not relied on: the powerful autho⯑rity of duty is added, that in a matter of the ut⯑moſt importance to ourſelves, and of ſome im⯑portance to the ſociety we live in, our conduct may be regular and ſteady. Theſe duties tend not only to render a man happy in himſelf, but alſo, by procuring the good-will and eſteem of others, to command their aid and aſſiſtance in time of need.
I proceed to the final cauſes of natural rewards and puniſhments. It is laid down above, that [58] controverſies about property and about other mat⯑ters of intereſt, muſt be adjuſted by the ſtandard of right and wrong. But to bring rewards and puniſhments under the ſame ſtandard, with⯑out regard to private conſcience, would be a plan unworthy of our Maker. It is extremely clear, that to reward one who is not conſcious of merit, or to puniſh one who is not conſcious of guilt, cannot anſwer any good end; and in particular, can⯑not tend either to improvement or to reformation of manners. How much more like the Deity is the plan of nature, which rewards no man who is not conſcious that he merits reward, and puniſhes no man who is not conſcious that he merits pun⯑iſhment! By that plan, and by that only, re⯑wards and puniſhments accompliſh every good end; a final cauſe moſt illuſtrious! The rewards and puniſhments that attend the primary and ſe⯑condary virtues, are finely contrived for ſupport⯑ing the diſtinction between them, ſet forth above. Puniſhment muſt be confined to the tranſgreſſion of primary virtues, it being the intention of na⯑ture, that ſecondary virtues be entirely free. On the other hand, ſecondary virtues are more high⯑ly rewarded than primary: generoſity, for exam⯑ple, makes a greater figure than juſtice; and magnanimity, heroiſm, undaunted courage, a ſtill greater figure. One would imagine, at firſt view, that primary virtues, being more eſſential, ſhould be intitled to the firſt place in our eſteem, and be more amply rewarded than ſecondary; and yet in elevating the latter above the former, pe⯑culiar wiſdom and foreſight are conſpicuous. Pu⯑niſhment is appropriated to enforce primary vir⯑tues; and if theſe virtues were alſo attended with high rewards, ſecondary virtues, degraded to a lower rank, would be deprived of that enthu⯑ſiaſtic [59] admiration which is their chief ſupport: ſelf-intereſt would univerſally prevail over bene⯑volence, and baniſh thoſe numberleſs favours we receive from each other in ſociety, which are beneficial in point of intereſt, and ſtill more ſo by generating affection and friendſhip.
In our progreſs through final cauſes we come at laſt to reparation, one of the principles deſtin⯑ed by Providence for redreſſing wrongs commit⯑ted, and for preventing the reiteration of them. The final cauſe of this principle, when the miſchief ariſes from intention, is clear: for to protect individuals in ſociety, it is not ſuf⯑ficient that the delinquent be puniſhed; it is neceſſary over and above, that the miſchief be re⯑paired.
Secondly, Where the act is wrong or unjuſt, though not underſtood by the author to be ſo, it is wiſely ordered that reparation ſhould follow; which will thus appear. Conſidering the fallibi⯑lity of man, it would be too ſevere to permit ad⯑vantage to be taken of one's error in every cir⯑cumſtance. On the other hand, to make it a law in our nature, never to take advantage of er⯑ror, would be giving too much indulgence to in⯑dolence and remiſſion of mind, tending to make us neglect the improvement of our rational fa⯑culties. Our nature is ſo happily framed, as to avoid theſe extremes by diſtinguiſhing between gain and loſs. No man is conſcious of wrong, when he takes advantage of an error committed by another to ſave himſelf from loſs: if there muſt be a loſs, common ſenſe dictates, that it ought to reſt upon the perſon who has erred, however innocently, rather than upon the perſon who has not erred. Thus, in a competition among creditors about the eſtate of their bankrupt [60] debtor, every one is at liberty to avail himſelf of every error committed by his competitor, in order to recover payment. But in lucro captando, the moral ſenſe teacheth a different leſſon; which is, that no man ought to lay hold of another's error to make gain by it. Thus, an heir finding a rough diamond in the repoſitories of his anceſtor, gives it away, miſtaking it for a common pebble: the purchaſer is in conſcience and equity bound to reſtore, or to pay a juſt price.
Thirdly, The following conſiderations unfold a final cauſe, no leſs beautiful than that laſt men⯑tioned. Society could not ſubſiſt in any tolerable manner, were full ſcope given to raſhneſs and ne⯑gligence, and to every action that is not ſtrictly criminal; whence it is a maxim founded no leſs upon utility than upon juſtice, That men in ſo⯑ciety ought to be extremely circumſpect, as to every action that may poſſibly do harm. On the other hand, it is alſo a maxim, That as the proſ⯑perity and happineſs of man depend on action, activity ought to be encouraged, inſtead of be⯑ing diſcouraged by dread of conſequences. Theſe maxims, ſeemingly in oppoſition, have natural limits that prevent their encroaching upon each other. There is a certain degree of attention and circumſpection that men generally beſtow upon affairs, proportioned to their importance: if that degree were not ſufficient to defend againſt a claim of reparation, individuals would be too much cramped in action; which would be a great diſcouragement to activity: if a leſs degree were ſufficient, there would be too great ſcope for raſh or remiſs conduct; which would prove the bane of ſociety. Theſe limits, which evidently tend to the good of ſociety, are adjuſted by the moral ſenſe; which dictates, as laid down in the ſection of Reparation, that the man who acts with fore⯑ſight [61] of the probability of miſchief, or acts raſhly and uncautiouſly without ſuch foreſight, ought to be liable for conſequences; but that the man who acts cautiouſly, without foreſeeing or ſuſ⯑pecting any miſchief, ought not to be liable for conſequences.
In the ſame ſection it is laid down, that the moral ſenſe requires from every man, not his own degree of vigilance and attention, which may be very ſmall, but that which belongs to the com⯑mon nature of the ſpecies. The final cauſe of that regulation will appear upon conſidering, that were reparation to depend upon perſonal circum⯑ſtances, there would be a neceſſity of enquiring into the characters of men, their education, their manner of living, and the extent of their under⯑ſtanding; which would render judges arbitrary, and ſuch law-ſuits inextricable. But by aſ⯑ſuming the common nature of the ſpecies as a ſtandard, by which every man in conſci⯑ence judges of his own actions, law-ſuits about reparation are rendered eaſy and expediti⯑ous.
SECT VIII.
LIBERTY and NECESSITY conſidered with re⯑ſpect to Morality.
HAVING, in the foregoing ſections, aſcer⯑tained the reality of a moral ſenſe, with its ſentiments of approbation and diſapprobation, [62] praiſe and blame; the purpoſe of the preſent ſec⯑tion is, to ſhew, that theſe ſentiments are con⯑ſiſtent with the laws that govern the actions of man as a rational being. In order to which it is firſt neceſſary to explain theſe laws; for there has been much controverſy about them, eſpecially among divines of the Arminian and Calviniſt ſects.
Human actions, as laid down in the firſt ſec⯑tion, are of three kinds: one, where we act by inſtinct, without any view to conſequences; one, where we act by will in order to produce ſome effect; and one, where we act againſt will. With reſpect to the firſt, the agent acts blindly, without deliberation or choice; and the external act follows neceſſarily from the inſtinctive im⯑pluſe*. Actions done with a view to an end, are in a very different condition: in theſe, deliberati⯑on, choice, will, enter: the intention to accom⯑pliſh the end goes firſt; the will to act in order to accompliſh the end is next; and the external [63] act follows of courſe. It is the will then that governs every action done as means to an end; and it is deſire to accompliſh the end that puts the will in motion; deſire in this view being com⯑monly termed the motive to act. Thus, hearing that my friend is in the hands of robbers, I burn with deſire to free him: deſire influen⯑ces my will to arm my ſervants, and to fly to his relief. Actions done againſt will come in afterward.
But what is it that raiſes deſire? The anſwer is at hand: it is the proſpect of attaining ſome agree⯑able end, or of avoiding one that is diſagreeable. And if it be again enquired, What makes an object agreeable or diſagreeable, the anſwer is equally ready, that our nature makes it ſo; and more we cannot ſay. Certain viſible objects are agreeable, certain ſounds, and certain ſmells: other objects of theſe ſenſes are diſagreeable. But there we muſt ſtop; for we are far from being ſo intimately acquainted with our own na⯑ture as to aſſign the cauſes. Theſe hints are ſuf⯑ficient for my preſent purpoſe: if one be curious to know more, the theory of deſire, and of agree⯑ableneſs and diſagreeableneſs, will be found in Ele⯑ments of Criticiſma.
With reſpect to inſtinctive actions, no perſon, I preſume, thinks that there is any freedom, more than in acts done againſt will: an infant applies to the nipple, and a bird builds its neſt, no leſs neceſſarily than a ſtone falls to the ground. With reſpect to voluntary actions, ſuch as are done with a view to an end, the neceſſity is the ſame, though leſs apparent at firſt view. The external [64] action is determined by the will: the will is de⯑termined by deſire: and deſire by what is agreea⯑ble or diſagreeable. Here is a chain of cauſes and effects, not one link of which is arbitrary, or under command of the agent: he cannot will but according to his deſire: he cannot deſire but ac⯑cording to what is agreeable or diſagreeable in the objects perceived: nor do theſe qualities depend on his inclination or fancy; he has no power to make a beautiful woman ugly, nor to make a rotten carcaſe ſweet.
Many good men apprehending danger to mora⯑lity from holding our actions to be neceſſary, en⯑deavour to break the chain of cauſes and effects above mentioned, maintaining, ‘"That whatever influence deſire or motives may have, it is the agent himſelf who is the cauſe of every acti⯑on; that deſire may adviſe, but cannot com⯑mand; and therefore that a man is ſtill free to act in contradiction to deſire and to the ſtrong⯑eſt motives."’ That a being may exiſt, which in every caſe acts blindly and arbitrarily, without having any end in view, I can make a ſhift to conceive: but it is difficult for me even to imagine a thinking and rational being, that has affections and paſſions, that has a deſireable end in view, that can eaſily accompliſh this end; and yet, after all, can fly off, or remain at reſt, without any cauſe, reaſon, or motive, to ſway it. If ſuch a whimſical being can poſſibly exiſt, I am certain that man is not ſuch a being. There is perhaps not a perſon above the condition of a changeling, but can ſay why he did ſo and ſo, what moved him, what he intended. Nor is a ſingle fact ſtated to make us believe, that ever a man acted againſt his own will or deſire, who was not compelled by external violence. On the con⯑trary, conſtant and univerſal experience proves, [65] that human actions are governed by certain in⯑flexible laws; and that a man cannot exert his ſelf-motive power, but in purſuance of ſome de⯑ſire or motive.
Had a motive always the ſame influence, acti⯑ons proceeding from it would appear no leſs ne⯑ceſſary than the actions of matter. The various degrees of influence that motives have on dif⯑ferent men at the ſame time, and on the ſame man at different times, occaſion a doubt by ſuggeſting a notion of chance. Some motives however have ſuch influence, as to leave no doubt: a timid female has a phyſical power to throw herſelf into the mouth of a lion, roaring for food; but ſhe is with-held by terror no leſs effectually than by cords: if ſhe ſhould ruſh upon the lion, would not every one conclude that ſhe was frantic? A man, though in a deep ſleep, retains a phyſical power to act, but he cannot exert it. A man, though deſperately in love, retains a phyſical power to refuſe the hand of his miſtreſs; but he cannot exert that power in contradiction to his own ardent deſire, more than if he were faſt aſleep. Now if a ſtrong motive have a neceſſary influence, there is no reaſon for doubting, but that a weak motive muſt alſo have its influence, the ſame in kind, though not in degree. Some actions indeed are ſtrangely irregular; but let the wildeſt action be ſcrutinized, there will always be diſcovered ſome motive or deſire, which, however whimſical or capricious, was what influenced the perſon to act. Of two con⯑tending motives is it not natural to expect, that the ſtronger will prevail, however little its exceſs may be? If there be any doubt, it muſt be from a ſuppoſition that a weak motive can be reſiſted arbitrarily. Where then are we to fix the boun⯑dary between a weak and a ſtrong motive? If a [66] weak motive can be reſiſted, why not one a lit⯑tle ſtronger, and why not the ſtrongeſt? In Ele⯑ments of Criticiſma the reader will find many examples of contrary motives weighing againſt each other. Let him ponder theſe with the ſtricteſt attention: his concluſion will be, that between two motives, however nearly balanced, a man has not an arbitrary choice, but muſt yield to the ſtronger. The mind indeed fluctuates for ſome time, and feels itſelf in a meaſure looſe: at laſt, however, it is determined by the more pow⯑erful motive, as a balance is by the greater weight after many vibrations.
Such then are the laws that govern our volun⯑tary actions. A man is abſolutely free to act oc⯑cording to his own will; greater freedom than which is not conceivable. At the ſame time, as man is made accountable for his conduct, to his Maker, to his fellow-creatures, and to himſelf, he is not left to act arbitrarily; for at that rate he would be altogether unaccountable: his will is regulated by deſire; and deſire by what plea⯑ſes or diſpleaſes him. Where we are ſubjected to the will of another, would it be our wiſh, that his will ſhould be under no regulation? And where we are guided by our own will, would it be reaſonable to wiſh, that it ſhould be under no regulation, but be exerted without reaſon, with⯑out any motive, and contrary to common ſenſe? Thus, with regard to human conduct, there is a chain of laws eſtabliſhed by nature, not one link of which is left arbitrary. By that wiſe ſyſtem, man is rendered accountable: by it, he is made a fit ſubject for divine and human government: by it, perſons of ſagacity foreſee the conduct of [67] others: and by it, the preſcience of the Deity with reſpect to human actions, is firmly eſta⯑bliſhed.
The abſurd figure men would make if they could act contrary to motives, ſhould be ſuffici⯑ent, one may think, to open our eyes without an argument. What a deſpicable figure does a per⯑ſon make, upon whom the ſame motive has great influence at one time, and very little at another? He is a bad member of ſociety, and cannot be relied on as a friend or as an aſſociate. But how highly rational is this ſuppoſed perſon, compared with one who can act in contradiction to every motive? The former may be termed whimſical or capricious: the latter is worſe; he is abſo⯑lutely unaccountable, and cannot be the ſubject of government, more than a lump of matter un⯑conſcious of its own motion.
Let the faculty of acting be compared with that of reaſoning: the compariſon will tend to ſoften our reluctance to the neceſſary influence of motives. A man ſometimes blunders in reaſo⯑ning; but he is tied by his nature, to form con⯑cluſions upon what appears to him true at the time. If he could arbitrarily form a different concluſion, what an abſurd reaſoner would he be! Would a man be leſs abſurd, if he had a power of acting againſt motives, and contrary to what he thinks right or eligible? To act in that man⯑ner, is inconſiſtent with any notion we can form of a ſenſible being. Nor do we ſuppoſe that man is ſuch a being: in accounting for any acti⯑on, however whimſical, we always aſcribe it to ſome motive, never once dreaming that there was no motive.
And after all, where would be the advantage of ſuch an arbitrary power? Can a rational man wiſh ſeriouſly to have ſuch a power? or can he [68] ſeriouſly think, that God would make man ſo whimſical a being? To endue man with a de⯑gree of ſelf-command ſufficient to reſiſt every vicious motive, without any power to reſiſt thoſe that are virtuous, would indeed be a gift of va⯑lue; but too great for man, becauſe it would ex⯑alt him to be an angel. But ſuch ſelf-command as to reſiſt both equally, which is the preſent ſuppoſition, would unqualify us for being go⯑verned either by God or by man. Better far to be led as rational creatures by the proſpect of good, however erroneous our judgment may ſometimes be.
Conſidering that man is the only terreſtrial be⯑ing formed to know his Maker, and to worſhip him, will it not ſound harſhly, while all other animals are ſubjected to divine government, and unerringly fulfil their deſtination, that man alone ſhould be withdrawn from divine government, and be ſo framed, that neither his Maker, nor he himſelf, can foreſee what he will do the next moment? The power of reſiſting the ſtrongeſt motives, whether of religion or of morality, would render him independent of the Deity.
This reaſoning is too diffuſe: may it not be comprehended in a ſingle view? it will make the deeper impreſſion. There may be conceived different ſyſtems for governing man as a thinking and rational being. One is, That virtuous mo⯑tives ſhould always prevail over every other mo⯑tive. This, in appearance, would be the moſt perfect government. But man is not ſo conſtitu⯑ted: and there is reaſon to doubt, whether ſuch perfection would in his preſent ſtate correſpond to the other branches of his naturea. Ano⯑ther [69] ſyſtem is, That virtuous motives ſometimes prevail, ſometimes vicious; and that we are al⯑ways determined by the prevailing motive. This is the true ſyſtem of nature; and hence great va⯑riety of character and of conduct among men. A third ſyſtem is, That motives have influence; but that one can act in contradiction to every motive. This is the ſyſtem I have been combat⯑ing. Obſerve only what it reſolves into. How is an action to be accounted for that is done in contradiction to every motive? It wanders from the region of common ſenſe into that of mere chance. If ſuch were the nature of man, no one could rely on another: a promiſe or an oath would be a rope of ſand: the utmoſt cordiality between my friend and me, would be no ſecurity againſt his ſtabbing me with the firſt weapon that comes in his way. Would any man wiſh to have been formed according to ſuch a ſyſtem? He would probably wiſh to have been formed according to the ſyſtem firſt mentioned: but that is denied him, virtuous motives ſometimes pre⯑vailing, ſometimes vicious; and from the wiſ⯑dom of Providence we have reaſon to believe, that this law is of all the beſt fitted for man in his preſent ſtate.
To conclude this branch of the ſubject: In none of the works of Providence, ſo far as we can penetrate, is there diſplayed a deeper reach of art and wiſdom, than in the laws of action peculiar to man as a thinking and rational being. Were he left looſe, to act in contradiction to motives, there would be no place for prudence, foreſight, nor for adjuſting means to an end: it could not be foreſeen by others what a man will do the next hour; nay it could not be foreſeen, even by himſelf. Man would not be capable of rewards and puniſhments: he would not be fit⯑ted, [70] either for divine or for human government: he would be a creature that has no reſemblance to the human race. But man is not left looſe; for though he is at liberty to act according to his own will, yet his will is regulated by deſire, and deſire by what pleaſes and diſpleaſes. This con⯑nection preſerves uniformity of conduct, and confines human actions within the great chain of cauſes and effects. By this admirable ſyſtem, liberty and neceſſity, ſeemingly incompatible, are made perfectly concordant, fitting us for ſociety, and for government both human and divine.
Having explained the laws that govern human actions, we proceed to what is chiefly intended in the preſent ſection, which is, to examine, how far the moral ſentiments handled in the foregoing ſections are conſiſtent with theſe laws. Let it be kept in view, that our moral ſentiments and feel⯑ings are founded entirely upon the moral ſenſe; which unfolds to us a right and a wrong in acti⯑ons. From the ſame ſenſe are derived the ſen⯑timents of approbation and praiſe when a man does right, and of diſapprobation and blame when he does wrong. Were we deſtitute of the moral ſenſe, right and wrong, praiſe and blame, would be as little underſtood as colours are by one born blind*.
[71] The formidable argument that is urged, to prove that our moral ſentiments are inconſiſtent with the ſuppoſed neceſſary influence of motives, is what follows. ‘"If motives have a neceſſary influence on our actions, there can be no good reaſon to praiſe a man for doing right, nor to blame him for doing wrong. What foundati⯑on can there be, either for praiſe or blame, when it was not in a man's power to have acted otherwiſe? A man commits murder in⯑ſtigated by a ſudden fit of revenge: why ſhould he be puniſhed, if he acted neceſſari⯑ly, and could not reſiſt the violence of the paſſion?"’ Here it is ſuppoſed, that a power of reſiſtance is eſſential to praiſe and blame. But upon examination it will be found, that this ſuppoſition has not any ſupport in the moral ſenſe, nor in reaſon, nor in the common ſenſe of man⯑kind.
With reſpect to the firſt, the moral ſenſe, as we have ſeen above, places innocence and guilt, and conſequentty praiſe and blame, entirely upon will and intention. The connection between the motive and the action, ſo far from diminiſhing, enhances the praiſe or blame. The greater in⯑fluence a virtuous motive has, the greater is the virtue of the agent, and the more warm our praiſe. On the other hand, the greater influ⯑ence a vicious motive has, the greater is the vice of the agent, and the more violently do we blame him. As this is the cardinal point, I wiſh to have it conſidered in a general view. It is eſſen⯑tial [72] both to human and divine government, that the influence of motives ſhould be neceſſary. It is equally eſſential, that that neceſſary influence ſhould not have the effect to leſſen guilt in the eſtimation of men. To fulfil both ends, guilt is placed by the moral ſenſe entirely upon will and intention: a man accordingly blames himſelf for doing miſchief willingly and intentionally, with⯑out once conſidering whether he acted neceſſarily or not. And his ſentiments are adopted by all the world: they pronounce the ſame ſentence of condemnation that he himſelf does. A man put to the torture, yields to the pain, and with bit⯑ter reluctance reveals the ſecrets of his party: another does the ſame, yielding to a tempting bribe. The latter only is blamed as guilty of a crime; and yet the bribe perhaps operated as ſtrongly on the latter, as torture did on the for⯑mer. But the one was compelled againſt his will to reveal the ſecrets of his party; and therefore is innocent: the other acted willingly, in order to procure a great ſum of money; and therefore is guilty.
With reſpect to reaſon, I obſerve, that the argument I am combating is an appeal to a wrong tribunal: the moral ſenſe is the only judge in this controverſy, not the faculty of reaſon. At the ſame time, I ſhould have no fear of a ſen⯑tence againſt me, were reaſon to be the judge. For would not reaſon dictate, that the leſs a man wavers about his duty; or, in other words, the leſs influence vicious motives have, the more praiſe-worthy he is; and the more blameable, the leſs influence virtuous motives have?
Nor are we led by common ſenſe to differ from reaſon and the moral ſenſe. A man commits murder, overcome by a ſudden fit of revenge which he could not reſiſt; will not one be led to [73] reflect, even at firſt view, that the man did not wiſh to reſiſt? on the contrary, that he would have committed the murder, though he had not been under any neceſſity? A perſon of plain un⯑derſtanding will ſay, What ſignifies it whether the criminal could reſiſt or not, when he commit⯑ted the murder wittingly and willingly? A man gives poiſon privately out of revenge. Does any one doubt of his guilt, when he never once re⯑pented; though after adminiſtering the poiſon it no longer was in his power to draw back? A man may be guilty and blame-worthy, even where there is external compulſion that he cannot reſiſt. With ſword in hand I run to attack an enemy: my foot ſlipping, I fall headlong upon him, and by that accident the ſword is puſhed into his body. The external act was not the effect of Will, but of accident: but my intention was to commit murder, and I am guilty. All men acknowledge, that the Deity is neceſſarily good. Does that cir⯑cumſtance detract from his praiſe in com⯑mon apprehenſion? On the contrary, he me⯑rits from us the higheſt praiſe on that very ac⯑count.
It is commonly ſaid, that there can be no virtue where there is no ſtruggle. Virtue, it is true, is beſt known from a ſtruggle: a man who has ne⯑ver met with a temptation, can be little confident of his virtue. But the obſervation taken in a ſtrict ſenſe, is undoubtedly erroneous. A man, tempted to betray his truſt, wavers; but, after much doubting, refuſes at laſt the bribe. Ano⯑ther heſitates not a moment, but rejects the bribe with diſdain: duty is obſtinate, and will not ſuf⯑fer him even to deliberate. Is there no virtue in the latter? Undoubtedly more than in the for⯑mer.
[74] Upon the whole, it appears that praiſe and blame reſt ultimately upon the diſpoſition or frame of mind. Nor is it obvious, that a power to act againſt motives, could vary in any degree theſe moral ſentiments. When a man commits a crime, let it be ſuppoſed, that he could have reſiſted the prevailing motive. Why then did he not reſiſt, inſtead of bringing upon himſelf ſhame and miſery? The anſwer muſt be, for no other can be given, that his diſpoſition is vicious, and that he is a deteſtable creature. Further, it is not a little difficult to conceive, how a man can reſiſt a prevailing motive, without having any thing in his mind that ſhould engage him to reſiſt it. But letting that paſs, I make the following ſuppoſition. A man is tempted by avarice to accept a bribe: if he reſiſt upon the principle of duty, he is led by the prevailing motive: if he reſiſt without having any reaſon or motive for reſiſting, I can⯑not diſcover any merit in ſuch reſiſtance: it ſeems to reſolve into a matter of chance or acci⯑dent, whether he reſiſt or do not reſiſt. Where can the merit lie of reſiſting a vicious motive, when reſiſtance happens by mere chance? and where the demerit of reſiſting a virtuous motive, when it is owing to the ſame chance? If a man, actuated by no principle, good or bad, and having no end or purpoſe in view, ſhould kill his neighbour, I ſee not that he would be more accountable, than if he had acted in his ſleep, or were mad.
Human puniſhments are perfectly conſiſtent with the neceſſary influence of motives, without ſuppoſing a power to withſtand them. If it be urged, That a man ought not to be puniſhed for committing a crime when he could not reſiſt; the anſwer is, That as he committed the crime inten⯑tionally, and with his eyes open, he is guilty in [75] his own opinion, and in the opinion of all men; and he juſtly ſuffers puniſhment, to prevent him or others from doing the like in time to come. The dread of puniſhment is a weight in the ſcale on the ſide of virtue, to counterbalance vicious motives.
The final cauſe of this branch of our nature is admirable. If the neceſſary influence of motives had the effect either to leſſen the merit of a virtu⯑ous action, or the demerit of a crime, morality would be totally unhinged. The moſt virtuous action would of all be the leaſt worthy of praiſe; and the moſt vicious be of all the leaſt worthy of blame. Nor would the evil ſtop there: inſtead of curbing inordinate paſſions, we ſhould be encouraged to indulge them, as an excellent excuſe for doing wrong. Thus, the moral ſen⯑timents of approbation and diſapprobation, of praiſe and blame, are found perfectly conſiſtent with the laws above mentioned that govern hu⯑man actions, without having recourſe to an ima⯑ginary power of acting againſt motives.
The only plauſible objection I have met with againſt the foregoing theory, is the remorſe a man feels for a crime he ſuddenly commits, and as ſuddenly repents of. During a fit of bitter re⯑morſe for having ſlain my favourite ſervant in a violent paſſion, without juſt provocation, I ac⯑cuſe myſelf for having given way to paſſion; and acknowledge that I could and ought to have re⯑ſtrained it. Here we find remorſe founded on a ſyſtem directly oppoſite to that above laid down; a ſyſtem that acknowledges no neceſſary connecti⯑on between an action and the motive that produ⯑ced it; but, on the contrary, ſuppoſes that it is in a man's power to reſiſt his paſſion, and that he ought to reſiſt it. What ſhall be ſaid upon this point? Can a man be a neceſſary agent, when he [76] is conſcious of the contrary, and is ſenſible that he can act in contradiction to motives? This ob⯑jection is ſtrong in appearance; and would be in⯑vincible, were we not happily relieved of it by a doctrine laid down in Elements of Criticiſma concerning the irregular influence of paſſion on our opinions and ſentiments. Upon examination, it will be found, that the preſent caſe may be ad⯑ded to the many examples there given of this ir⯑regular influence. In a peeviſh fit, I take excep⯑tion at ſome ſlight word or geſture of my friend, which I interpret as if he doubted of my veracity. I am inſtantly in a flame: in vain he proteſts that he had no meaning, for impatience will not ſuffer me to liſten. I bid him draw, which he does with reluctance; and before he is well prepared, I give him a mortal wound. Bitter remorſe and anguiſh ſucceed inſtantly to rage. ‘"What have I done? why did I not abſtain? I was not mad, and yet I have murdered my innocent friend: there is the hand that did the horrid deed; why did not I rather turn it againſt my own heart?"’ Here every impreſſion of neceſſity vaniſhes: my mind tells me that I was abſolutely free, and that I ought to have ſmothered my paſ⯑ſion. I put an oppoſite caſe. A brutal fellow [...]eats me with great indignity, and proceeds even to a blow. My paſſion riſes beyond the poſſibili⯑ty of reſtraint: I can ſcarce forbear ſo long as to bid him draw; and that moment I ſtab him to the heart. I am ſorry for having been engaged with a ruffian, but have no contrition nor re⯑morſe. In this caſe, my ſentiments are very dif⯑ferent from what they are in the other. I never [77] once dream that I could have reſiſted the impulſe of paſſion: on the contrary, my thoughts and words are, ‘"That fleſh and blood could not bear the affront; and that I muſt have been branded for a coward, had I not done what I did."’ In reality, both the actions were equal⯑ly neceſſary. Whence then opinions and ſen⯑timents ſo oppoſite to each other? The irregular influence of paſſion on our opinions and ſenti⯑ments, will ſolve the queſtion. All violent paſ⯑ſions are prone to their own gratification. A man affected with deep remorſe abhors himſelf, and is odious in his own eyes; and it gratifies the paſ⯑ſion, to indulge the thought that his guilt is be⯑yond the poſſibility of excuſe. In the firſt caſe accordingly, remorſe forces upon me a conviction that I might have reſtrained my paſſion, and ought to have reſtrained it. I will not give way to any excuſe; becauſe in a fit of remorſe it gives me pain to be excuſed. In the other caſe, there be⯑ing no remorſe, there is no diſguiſe; and things appear in their true light. To illuſtrate this rea⯑ſoning, I obſerve, that paſſion warps my judg⯑ment of the actions of others, as well as of my own. Many examples are given in the chapter above quoted: join to theſe the following. My ſervant aiming at a partridge, happens to ſhoot a favourite ſpaniel croſſing the way unſeen. In⯑flamed with anger, I ſtorm at his raſhneſs, pro⯑nounce him guilty, and will liſten to no excuſe. When my paſſion is ſpent, I become ſenſible that it was merely accidental, and that the man is ab⯑ſolutely innocent. The nurſe overlays my only child, the long-expected heir to a great eſtate. It is with difficulty that I refrain from putting her to death: ‘"The wretch has murdered my in⯑fant, and deſerves to be torn to pieces."’ [78] When my paſſion ſubſides, I ſee the matter in a very different light. The poor woman is incon⯑ſolable, and can ſcarce believe that ſhe is inno⯑cent: ſhe bitterly reproaches herſelf for want of care and concern. But, upon cool reflection, both ſhe and I are ſenſible, that no perſon in ſound ſleep has any ſelf-command; and that we cannot be anſwerable for any action of which we are not conſcious. Thus, upon the whole, we find, that any impreſſion we may occaſionally have of being able to act in contradiction to motives, is the reſult of paſſion, not of ſound judg⯑ment.
The reader will obſerve, that this ſection is co⯑pied from Eſſays on Morality and Natural Religi⯑on. The ground-work is the ſame: the alterati⯑ons are only in the ſuperſtructure; and the ſub⯑ject is abridged in order to adapt it to its preſent place. Part of the abridgment was publiſhed in the ſecond edition of the Principles of Equity. But as law-books have little currency, the publiſh⯑ing the whole in one eſſay, will not, I hope, be thought improper.
APPENDIX.
Upon CHANCE and CONTINGENCY,
[79]I HOLD it to be an intuitive propoſition, That the Deity is the primary cauſe of all things; that with conſummate wiſdom he formed the great plan of government, which he carries on by laws ſuited to the different natures of animate and inanimate beings; and that theſe laws, pro⯑duce a regular chain of cauſes and effects in the moral as well as the material world, admitting no events but what are comprehended in the original plana. Hence it clearly follows, that chance is excluded out of this world, that nothing can happen by accident, and that no event is arbitrary or contingent. This is the doctrine of the eſſay quoted; and, in my apprehenſion, well founded. But I cannot ſubſcribe to what follows, viz. ‘"That we have an impreſſion of chance and con⯑tingency, which conſequently muſt be delu⯑ſive."’ I would not willingly admit any deluſi⯑on in the nature of man, where it is not made [80] evident beyond contradiction; and I now ſee clearly, that the impreſſion we have of chance and contingency, is not deluſive, but perfectly conſiſtent with the eſtabliſhed plan.
The explanation of chance and contingency in the ſaid eſſay, ſhall be given in the author's own words, as a proper text to reaſon upon. ‘"In our ordinary train of thinking, it is certain that all events appear not to us as neceſſary. A multitude of events ſeem to be under our power to cauſe or to prevent; and we readily make a diſtinction betwixt events that are neceſſary, i. e. that muſt be; and events that are contingent, i. e. that may be, or may not be. This diſtinction is void of truth: for all things that fall out either in the material or moral world, are, as we have ſeen, alike ne⯑ceſſary, and alike the reſult of fixed laws. Yet, whatever conviction a philoſopher may have of this, the diſtinction betwixt things neceſſary and things contingent, poſſeſſes his common train of thought, as much as it poſ⯑ſeſſes the moſt illiterate. We act univerſally upon that diſtinction: nay it is in truth the cauſe of all the labour, care, and induſtry, of mankind. I illuſtrate this doctrine by an example. Conſtant experience hath taught us, that death is a neceſſary event. The hu⯑man frame is not made to laſt for ever in its preſent condition; and no man thinks of more than a temporary exiſtence upon this globe. But the particular time of our death appears a contingent event. However certain it be, that the time and manner of the death of each individual is determined by a train of preced⯑ing cauſes, and is no leſs fixed than the hour of the ſun's riſing or ſetting; yet no per⯑ſon is affected by this doctrine. In the care [81] of prolonging life, we are directed by the ſup⯑poſed contingency of the time of death, which, to a certain term of years, we conſider as de⯑pending in a great meaſure on ourſelves, by caution againſt accidents, due uſe of food, exerciſe, &c. Theſe means are proſecuted with the ſame diligence as if there were in fact no neceſſary train of cauſes to fix the pe⯑riod of life. In ſhort, whoever attends to his own practical ideas, whoever reflects upon the meaning of the following words which occur in all languages, of things poſſible, contingent, that are in our power to cauſe or prevent; whoever, I ſay, reflects upon theſe words, will clearly ſee, that they ſuggeſt certain per⯑ceptions or notions repugnant to the doctrine above eſtabliſhed of univerſal neceſſity."’
In order to ſhow that there is no repugnance, I begin with defining chance and contingency. The former is applied to events that have hap⯑pened; the latter to future events. When we ſay a thing has happened by chance, we do not mean that chance was the cauſe; for no perſon ever thought that chance is a thing that can act, and by acting produce events: we only mean, that we are ignorant of the cauſe, and that, for aught we ſee, it might have happened or not happened, or have happened differently. Aim⯑ing at a bird, I ſhoot by chance a favourite ſpa⯑niel: the meaning is not, that chance killed the dog, but that as to me the dog's death was acci⯑dental. With reſpect to contingency, future events that are variable, and the cauſe unknown, are ſaid to be contingent; changes of the wea⯑ther, for example, whether it will be froſt or thaw to-morrow, whether fair or foul. In a word, chance and contingency applied to events mean not that ſuch events happen without any [82] cauſe, but only that we are ignorant of the cauſe.
It appears to me clear, that there is no ſuch thing in human nature as a ſenſe of contingency; or, in other words, a ſenſe that any thing hap⯑pens without a cauſe: ſuch a ſenſe would be groſsly deluſive. True it is indeed, that our ſenſe of a cauſe is but cloudy and indiſtinct with reſpect to certain events. Events that happen re⯑gularly, ſuch as ſummer and winter, riſing and ſetting of the ſun, give us a diſtinct impreſſion of a cauſe. The impreſſion is leſs diſtinct with reſpect to events leſs regular, ſuch as alterations of the weather: and extremely indiſtinct with reſpect to events that ſeldom happen, and that happen without any known cauſe. But with re⯑ſpect to no event whatever does our ſenſe of a cauſe vaniſh altogether, and give place to a po⯑ſitive ſenſe of contingency, that is, a ſenſe of things happening without a cauſe.
Chance and contingency thus explained, ſug⯑geſt not any perception or notion repugnant to the doctrine of univerſal neceſſity; for my igno⯑rance of a cauſe, does not, even in my own ap⯑prehenſion, exclude a cauſe. Deſcending to par⯑ticulars, I take the example mentioned in the text, viz. the uncertainty of the time of my death. Knowing that my life depends in ſome meaſure on myſelf, I uſe all means to preſerve it, by proper food, exerciſe, and care to prevent accidents. Nor is there any deluſion here. I am moved to uſe theſe means by the deſire I have to live: theſe means accordingly prove effectual to carry on my preſent exiſtence to the oppointed period; and in that view are ſo many links in the great chain of cauſes and effects. A burning coal fall⯑ing from the grate upon the floor, wakes me from a ſound ſleep. I ſtart up to extinguiſh the fire. [83] The motive is irreſiſtible: nor have I reaſon to reſiſt, were it in my power; for I conſider the extinction of the fire by my hand to be one of the means choſen by Providence for prolonging my life to its deſtined period.
Were there a chain of cauſes and effects eſta⯑bliſhed entirely independent on me, and were my life in no meaſure under my own power, it would indeed be fruitleſs for me to act; and the abſur⯑dity of knowingly acting in vain, would be a prevailing motive for remaining at reſt. Upon that ſuppoſition, the ignavia ratio of Chryſippus might take place; cui ſi pareamus, nihil omnino agamus in vita *. But I act neceſſarily when in⯑fluenced by motives; and I have no reaſon to forbear, conſidering that my actions, by produ⯑cing their intended effects, contribute to carry on the univerſal chain.
PART II.
PROGRESS of MORALITY.
[84]HAVING unfolded the principles of morali⯑ty, the next ſtep is to trace out its gradu⯑al progreſs from its infancy among ſavages, to its maturity among poliſhed nations. The hiſto⯑ry of opinions concerning the foundation of mo⯑rality, falls not within my plan; and I am glad to be relieved from an article that is executed in perfection by more able handsa.
An animal is brought forth with every one of its external members; and completes its growth, not by production of any new member, but by addition of matter to thoſe originally formed. The ſame holds with reſpect to internal members; the ſenſes, for example, inſtincts, powers and faculties, principles and propenſities: theſe are coeval with the individual, and are gradually un⯑folded, ſome early, ſome late. The external ſenſes, being neceſſary for ſelf-preſervation, ſoon arrive at maturity. Some internal ſenſes, of or⯑der for inſtance, of propriety, of dignity, being [85] of no uſe during infancy, are not only ſlow in their progreſs toward maturity, but require much culture. Among ſavages they are ſcarce perceptible.
The moral ſenſe, in its progreſs, differs from thoſe laſt mentioned: it is frequently diſcovered, even in childhood. It is however ſlow of growth, and ſeldom arrives at perfection without culture and experience.
The moral ſenſe not only ripens gradually with the other internal ſenſes mentioned, but from them acquires force and additional authority: a ſavage makes no difficulty to kill an enemy in cold blood: bloody ſcenes are familiar to him, and his moral ſenſe is not ſufficiently vigorous to give him compunction. The action appears in a different light to a perſon who has more delica⯑cy of feeling; and accordingly the moral ſenſe has much more authority over thoſe who have received a refined education, than over ſavages.
It is pleaſant to trace the progreſs of morality in members of a poliſhed nation. Objects of ex⯑ternal ſenſe make the firſt impreſſions; and from them are derived a ſtock of ſimple ideas. Affec⯑tion, accompanying ideas, is firſt directed to par⯑ticular objects, ſuch as my brother, my wiſe, my friend. The mind opening by degrees, takes in complex objects, ſuch as my country, my reli⯑gion, the government under which I live; and theſe alſo become objects of affection. Our con⯑nections multiply, and the moral ſenſe gaining ſtrength as the mind opens, regulates our duty to each of them. Objects of hatred multiply, as well as objects of affection, and give full ſcope to diſſocial paſſions, the moſt formidable antagoniſts that morality has to encounter. But nature hath provided a remedy: the perſon who indulges malice or revenge, is commonly the [86] greateſt ſufferer by the indulgence: men become wiſe by experience, and have more peace and ſatisfaction in foſtering kindly affection: ſtormy paſſions are ſubdued, or brought under rigid diſ⯑cipline; and benevolence triumphs over ſelfiſh⯑neſs. We refine upon the pleaſures of ſociety: we learn to ſubmit our opinions: we affect to give preference to others; and readily fall in with whatever ſweetens ſocial intercourſe: we care⯑fully avoid cauſes of diſcord; and overlooking trifling offences, we are ſatisfied with moderate reparation, even for groſs injuries.
A nation from its original ſavage ſtate, grows to maturity like the individuals above deſcribed; and the progreſs of morality is the ſame in both. The ſavage ſtate is the infancy of a nation, dur⯑ing which the moral ſenſe is feeble, yielding to cuſtom, to imitation, to paſſion. But a nation, like a member of a poliſhed ſociety, ripens gra⯑dually, and acquires a taſte in the fine arts, with acuteneſs of ſenſe in matters of right and wrong. Hatred and revenge, the great obſtacles to moral duty, raged without control, while the privilege of avenging wrongs was permitted to individu⯑alsa. But hatred and revenge yielding gradu⯑ally to the pleaſures of ſociety, and to the grow⯑ing authority of the moral ſenſe; and benevolent affections prevailed over diſſocial paſſions. In that comfortable period, we hear no more of cru⯑elty as a national character: on the contrary, the averſion we have to an enemy, is even in war ex⯑erciſed with moderation. Nor do the ſtormy paſſions ever again revive; for after a nation be⯑gins to decline from its meridian height, the paſ⯑ſions [87] that prevail are not of the violent kind, but ſelfiſh, timorous, and deceitful.
Morality however has not to this day arrived to ſuch maturity as to operate between nations with equal ſteadineſs and vigour as between indi⯑viduals. Ought this to be regretted as an im⯑perfection in our nature? I think not: had we the ſame compunction of heart for injuring a nation as for injuring an individual, and were injuſtice equally blameable as to both, war would ceaſe, and a golden age enſue; than which a greater misfortune could not befal the human racea.
In the progreſs from maturity to a declining ſtate, a nation differs widely from an individual. Old age puts an end to the latter: there are ma⯑ny cauſes that weaken the former; but old age is none of them, if it be not in a metaphorical ſenſe. Riches, ſelfiſhneſs, and luxury, are the diſeaſes that weaken proſperous nations: theſe diſeaſes, following each other in a train, corrupt the heart, dethrone the moral ſenſe, and make an anarchy in the ſoul: men ſtick at no expence to purchaſe pleaſure; and they ſtick at no vice to ſupply that expence.
Such are the outlines of morality in its pro⯑greſs from birth to burial; and theſe outlines I propoſe to fill up with an induction of particu⯑lars. Looking back to the commencement of ci⯑vil ſociety, when no wants were known but thoſe of nature, and when ſuch wants were amply pro⯑vided for; we find individuals of the ſame tribe living innocently and cordially together: they had no irregular appetites, nor any ground of ſtrife. [88] In that ſtate, moral principles joined their influ⯑ence with that of national affection, to ſecure individuals from harm. Savages accordingly, who have plenty of food, and are ſimple in ha⯑bitation and clothing, ſeldom tranſgreſs the rules of morality within their own tribe. Diodorus Siculus, who compoſed his hiſtory recently after Caeſar's expedition into Britain, ſays, that the inhabitants dwelt in mean Cottages covered with reeds or ſticks; that they were of much ſincerity and integrity, contented with plain and homely fare; and were ſtrangers to the exceſs and lux⯑ury of rich men. In Friezeland, in Holland, and in other maritime provinces of the Nether⯑lands, locks and keys were unknown, till the in⯑habitants became rich by commerce: they con⯑tented themſelves with bare neceſſaries, which every one had in plenty. The Laplanders have no notion of theft. When they make an excur⯑ſion into Norway, which is performed in the ſummer months, they leave their huts open, without fear that any thing will be purloined. Formerly, they were entirely upright in their only commerce, that of bartering the ſkins of wild beaſts for tobacco, brandy, and coarſe cloth. But being often cheated by ſtrangers, they begin to more cunning. Crantz, deſcribing the inha⯑bitants of Iceland before they were corrupted by commerce with ſtrangers, ſays, that they lived under the ſame roof with their cattle; that eve⯑ry thing was common among them except their wives and children; and that they were ſimple in their manners, having no appetite but for what nature requires. In the reign of Edwin King of Northumberland, a child, as hiſtorians report, might have travelled with a purſe of gold, with⯑out hazard of robbery: in our days of luxury, want is ſo intolerable, that even fear of death is [89] not ſufficient to deter us. All travellers agree, that the native Canadians are perfectly diſinter⯑eſted, abhorring deceit and lying. The Califor⯑nians are fond of iron and ſharp inſtruments; and yet are ſo ſtrictly honeſt, that carpenter-tools left open during night, were ſafe. The ſa⯑vages of North America had no locks for their goods: they probably have learned from Euro⯑peans, to be more circumſpect. Procopius bears teſtimonya, that the Sclavi, like the Huns, were innocent people, free of all malice. Plan Carpin, the Pope's ambaſſador to the Cham of Tartary, ann. 1246, ſays, that the Tartars are not addicted to thieving; and that they leave their goods open without a lock. Nicholas Da⯑maſcenus reports the ſame of the Celtae. The original inhabitants of the iſland Borneo, expel⯑led by the Mahometans from the ſea-coaſt to the center of the country, are honeſt, induſtrious, and kindly to each other: they have ſome notion of property, but not ſuch as to render them co⯑vetous. Pagans in Siberia are numerous; and, though groſsly ignorant, eſpecially in matters of religion, they are a good moral people. It is rare to hear among them of perjury, thieving, fraud, or drunkenneſs; if we except thoſe who live among the Ruſſian Chriſtians, with whoſe vices they are tainted. Strahlenbergb bears teſtimony to their honeſty. Having employed a number of them in a long navigation, he ſlept in the ſame boat with men whoſe names he knew not, whoſe language he underſtood not, and yet [90] loſt not a particle of his baggage. Being obliged to remain a fortnight among the Oſtiacs, upon the river Oby, his baggage lay open in a hut in⯑habited by a large family, and yet nothing was purloined. The following incident, which he alſo mentions, is remarkable. A Ruſſian of To⯑bolſki, in the courſe of a long journey, lodged one night in an Oſtiac's hut, and the next day on the road miſſed his purſe with a hundred ru⯑bles. His landlord's ſon, hunting at ſome diſtance from the hut, found the purſe, but left it there. By his father's order, he covered it with branch⯑es, to ſecure it in caſe an owner ſhould be found. After three months, the Ruſſian re⯑turning, lodged with the ſame Oſtiac; and men⯑tioning occaſionally the loſs of his purſe, the Oſtiac, who at firſt did not recollect his face, cried out with joy, ‘"Art thou the man who loſt that purſe? my ſon ſhall go and ſhew thee where it lies, that thou mayeſt take it up with thine own hand."’ The Hottentotsa have not the leaſt notion of theft: tho' im⯑moderately fond of tobacco and brandy, they are employed by the Dutch for tending warehouſes full of theſe commodities. Here is an inſtance of probity above temptation, even among ſava⯑ges in the firſt ſtage of ſocial life. Some indi⯑viduals are more liberally endued than others with virtuous principles: may it not be thought, that in that reſpect nature has been more kind to the Hottentots than to many other tribes? Spa⯑niards, ſettled on the ſea-coaſt of Chili, carry on a commerce with neighbouring ſavages, for bri⯑dles, ſpurs, knives, and other manufactures of [91] iron; and in return receive oxen, horſes, and even children for ſlaves. A Spaniard carries his goods there; and after obtaining liberty to diſ⯑poſe of them, he moves about, and delivers his goods, without the leaſt reſerve, to every one who bargains with him. When all is ſold, he intimates his departure; and every purchaſer hurries with his goods to him; and it is not known that any one Indian ever broke his en⯑gagement. They give him a guard to carry him ſafe out of their territory, with all the ſlaves, horſes, and cattle he has purchaſed. The ſava⯑ges of Brazil are faithful to their promiſes, and to the treaties they make with the Portugueſe. Upon ſome occaſions, they may be accuſed of error and wrong judgment, but never of injuſ⯑tice nor of duplicity.
While the earth was thinly peopled, plenty of food, procured by hunting and fiſhing, promoted population; but as population leſſens the ſtock of animal food, a ſavage nation, encreaſing in num⯑bers, muſt ſpread wider and wider for more game. Thus tribes, at firſt widely ſeparate from each other, approach gradually till they become neighbours. Hence a new ſcene with reſpect to morality. Differences about their hunting fields, about their game, about perſonal injuries, mul⯑tiply between neighbours; and every quarrel is blown into a flame, by the averſion men natural⯑ly have to ſtrangers. Anger, hatred, and re⯑venge, find now vent, which formerly lay latent without an object: diſſocial paſſions prevail without control, becauſe among ſavages morality is no match for them; and cruelty becomes pre⯑dominant in the human race. Ancient hiſtory accordingly is full of enormous cruelties; wit⯑neſs the incurſions of the northern barbarians into the Roman empire; and witneſs the incurſions [92] of Genhizcan and Tamerlane into the fertile countries of Aſia, ſpreading deſtruction with fire and ſword, and ſparing neither man, wo⯑man, nor infant.
Malevolent paſſions daily exerciſed againſt per⯑ſons of a different tribe, acquiring ſtrength by exerciſe, came to be vented againſt perſons even of the ſame tribe; and the privilege long enjoyed by individuals, of avenging the wrongs done to them, beſtowed irreſiſtible force upon ſuch paſſi⯑onsa. The hiſtory of ancient Greece preſents nothing to the reader but uſurpations, aſſaſſinati⯑ons, and other horrid crimes. The names of many famous for wickedneſs, are ſtill preſerved; Atreus, for example, Eteocles, Alcmeon, Phe⯑dra, Clytemneſtra. The ſtory of Pelops and his deſcendants, is a chain of criminal horrors: du⯑ring that period, parricide and inceſt were ordi⯑nary incidents. Euripides repreſents Medea vow⯑ing revenge againſt her huſband Jaſon, and laying a plot to poiſon him. Of that infamous plot the chorus expreſs their approbation, juſtifying every woman who, in like circumſtances, acts the ſame part.
The frequent incurſions of northern barbarians into the Roman empire, ſpread deſolation and ru⯑in through the whole. The Romans, from the higheſt poliſh degenerating into ſavages, aſſumed by degrees the cruel and bloody manners of their conquerors; and the conquerors and conquered, blended into one maſs, equalled the groſſeſt bar⯑barians of ancient times in ignorance and brutali⯑ty. Clovis, King of the Franks, even after his converſion to Chriſtianity, aſſaſſinated without remorſe his neareſt kinſman. The children of [93] Clodomir, ann. 530, were aſſaſſinated by their two uncles. In the thirteenth centuary, Ezzeli⯑no de Aromano obtained the ſovereignty of Pa⯑dua, by maſſacring 12,000 of his fellow-citizens. Galeas Sforza, Duke of Milan, was aſſaſſinated ann. 1476 in the cathedral church of Milan, af⯑ter the aſſaſſins had put up their prayers for cou⯑rage to perpetrate the deed. It is a ſtill ſtronger proof how low morality was in thoſe days, that the Pope himſelf, Sextus IV. attempted to aſſaſ⯑ſinate the two brothers, Laurent and Julien de Medicis; chuſing the elevation of the hoſt as a proper time, when the people would be buſy about their devotions. Nay more, that very Pope, with unparalleled impudence, excommu⯑nicated the Florentines for doing juſtice upon the intended aſſaſſins. The moſt ſacred oaths were in vain employed as a ſecurity againſt that horrid crime. Childebert II. King of the Franks, en⯑ticed Magnovald to his court, by a ſolemn oath that he ſhould receive no harm: and yet made no difficulty to aſſaſſinate him during the gaiety of a banquet. But theſe inſtances, however horrid, make no figure compared with the maſſacre of St Bartholomew, where many thouſands were in⯑humanly and treacherouſly butchered. Even ſo late as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, aſ⯑ſaſſination was not held in every caſe to be crimi⯑nal. Many ſolicitous applications were made to general councils of Chriſtian clergy, to declare it criminal in every caſe; but without ſucceſs. Fer⯑dinand King of Aragon and Navarre, after re⯑peated aſſaſſinations and acts of perfidy, obtained the appellation of Great: ſo little authority had the moral ſenſe during thoſe dark ages.
But it is ſcarce neceſſary to mention particular inſtances of the overbearing power of malevolent paſſions during ſuch ages. An opinion, formerly [94] univerſal, that the innocent may be juſtly involv⯑ed in the ſame puniſhment with the guilty, is of itſelf irrefragable evidence, that morality once had very little influence when oppoſed by revenge. There is no moral principle more evident, than that puniſhment cannot be inflicted with juſtice but upon the guilty; and yet in Greece, the in⯑volving of the innocent with the guilty in the ſame puniſhment, was authoriſed even by poſi⯑tive law. By an Athenian law, a man commit⯑ting ſacrilege, or betraying his country, was ba⯑niſhed with all his childrena. And when a ty⯑rant was put to death, his children ſuffered the ſame fateb. The puniſhment of treaſon in Macedon, was extended againſt the criminal's relationsc. Hanno, a citizen of Carthage, formed a plot to enſlave his country, by poiſon⯑ing the whole ſenate at a banquet. He was tor⯑tured to death; and his children, with all his re⯑lations, were cut off without mercy, though they had no acceſſion to his guilt. Among the Japan⯑neſe, a people remarkably ferocious, it is the practice to involve children and relations in the puniſhment of capital crimes. Even Cicero, the chief man for learning in the moſt enlighten⯑ed period of the Roman republic, and a celebra⯑ted moraliſt, approves that practice: ‘"Nec vero me fugit, quam ſit acerbum parentum ſcelera filiorum poenis lui: ſed hoc praeclare legibus comparatum eſt, ut caritas liberorum amiciores [95] parentes reipublicae redderet* a."’ In Bri⯑tain, every one knows, that murder was retali⯑ated, not only againſt the criminal and his relati⯑ons, but againſt his whole clan; a practice ſo common as to be diſtinguiſhed by a peculiar name, that of deadly feud. As late as the days of King Edmund, a law was made in England, prohibiting deadly feud, except between the rela⯑tions of the perſon murdered and the murderer himſelf.
I embrace the preſent opportunity to honour the Jews, by obſerving, that they were the firſt peo⯑ple we read of, who had correct notions of mo⯑rality with reſpect to the preſent point. The following law is expreſs: ‘"The fathers ſhall not be put to death for the children, neither ſhall the children be put to death for the fathers: every man ſhall be put to death for his own ſinb."’ Amaziah, King of Judah, gave ſtrict obedience to that law, in avenging his fa⯑ther's death: ‘"And it came to paſs as ſoon as the kingdom was confirmed in his hand, that he ſlew his ſervants which had ſlain the king his father. But the children of the mur⯑derers he ſlew not; according to that which is written in the book of the law of Mo⯑ſesa."’ [96] There is an elegant paſſage in Eze⯑kiel to the ſame purpoſeb: ‘"What mean ye, that ye uſe this proverb concerning the land of Iſrael, ſaying, The fathers have eaten four grapes, and the childrens teeth are ſet on edge? As I live, ſaith the Lord God, ye ſhall not have occaſion any more to uſe this proverb in Iſrael. The ſoul that ſinneth, it ſhall die: the ſon ſhall not bear the iniquity of the fa⯑ther, neither ſhall the father bear the iniquity of the ſon; the righteouſneſs of the righteous ſhall be upon him, and the wickedneſs of the wicked ſhall be upon him."’ Among the Jews however, as among other nations, there are in⯑ſtances without number, of involving innocent children and relations in the ſame puniſhments with the guilty. Such power has revenge, as to trample upon conſcience, and upon the moſt ex⯑preſs laws. Inſtigated with rage for Nabal's in⯑gratitude, King David made a vow to God, not to leave alive of all who pertained to Nabal any that piſſeth againſt the wall. And it was not any compunction of conſcience that diverted him from his cruel purpoſe, but Nabal's beautiful wife, who pacified himc. But ſuch contradiction between principle and practice, is not peculiar to the Jews. We find examples of it in the laws of the Roman empire. The true principle of pu⯑niſhment is laid down in an edict of the Emperors [97] Arcadius and Honoriusb. ‘"Sancimus, ibi eſſe poenam, ubi et noxia eſt. Propinquos, notos, familiares, procul a calumnia ſubmovemus, quos reos ſceleris ſocietas non facit. Nec enim adfinitas vel amicitia nefarium crimen admit⯑tunt. Peccata igitur ſuos teneant auctores: nec ulterius progrediatur metus quam reperia⯑tur delictum. Hoc ſingulis quibuſque judici⯑bus intimetur.*"’ Theſe very Emperors, with reſpect to treaſon, which touched them nearer than other crimes, talk a very different language. After obſerving, that will and purpoſe alone with⯑out an ouvert act, is treaſon, ſubjecting the crimi⯑nal to capital puniſhment, and to forfeiture of all that belongs to him, they proceed in the follow⯑ing wordsc. ‘"Filii vero ejus, quibus vitam Imperatoria ſpecialiter lenitate concedimus, (paterno enim deberent perire ſupplicio, in quibus paterni, hoc eſt, hereditarii criminis exempla metuuntur), a materna, vel avita, omnium etiam proximorum hereditate ac ſuc⯑ceſſione, habeantur alieni: teſtamentis extra⯑neorum nihil capiant: ſint perpetuo egentes et pauperes, infamia eos paterna ſemper comite⯑tur, ad nullos prorſus honores, ad nulla ſacra⯑menta [98] perveniant: ſint poſtremo tales, ut his, perpetua egeſtate ſordentibus, ſit et mors ſolati⯑um et vita ſupplicium*."’
Human nature is not ſo perverſe, as without veil or diſguiſe to puniſh a perſon acknowledged to be innocent. An irregular bias of imagination, which extends the qualities of the principal to its acceſſories, paves the way to that unjuſt prac⯑ticea. That bias, ſtrengthened by indignation againſt an atrocious criminal, leads the mind ha⯑ſtily to conclude, that all his connections are partakers of his guilt. In an enlightened age, the clearneſs of moral principles fetters the imaginati⯑on from confounding the innocent with the guilty. There remain traces however of that bias, though not carried ſo far as murder. The ſentence pro⯑nounced againſt Ravilliac for aſſaſſinating Henry IV. of France, ordains, ‘"That his houſe be erazed to the ground, and that no other build⯑ing be ever erected upon that ſpot."’ Was not [99] this in imagination puniſhing a houſe for the pro⯑prietor's crime?
Murder and aſſaſſination are not only deſtruc⯑tive in themſelves, but, if poſſible, ſtill more deſtructive in their conſequences. The practice of ſhedding blood unjuſtly, and often wantonly, blunts conſcience, and paves the way to every crime. This obſervation is verified in the an⯑cient Greeks: their cruel and ſanguinary charac⯑ter, rendered them little regardful of the ſtrict rules of juſtice. Right was held to depend on power, among men as among wild beaſts: it was conceived to be the will of the gods, that ſuperior force ſhould be a lawful title to domi⯑nion; ‘"for what right can the weak have to what they cannot defend?"’ Were that max⯑im to obtain, a weak man would have no right to liberty nor to life. That impious doctrine was avowed by the Athenians, and publicly aſ⯑ſerted by their ambaſſadors in a conference with the Melians, reported by Thucydidesa. Ma⯑ny perſons act as if force and right were the ſame; but a barefaced profeſſion of ſuch a doc⯑trine, is uncommon. In the Eumenides, a tra⯑gedy of Eſchylus, Oreſtes is arraigned in the Areopagus for killing his mother. Minerva, preſident of the court, decrees in favour of Oreſtes: and for what reaſon? ‘"Having no Mother myſelf, the murder of a mother toucheth not me*."’ In the tragedy of E⯑lectra, [100] Oreſtes, conſulting the Delphic oracle about means to avenge his father's murder, was enjoined by Apollo to forbear force, but to em⯑ploy fraud and guile. Obedient to that injunc⯑tion, Oreſtes commands his tutor to ſpread in Argos the news of his death, and to confirm the ſame with a ſolemn oath. In Homer, even the great Jupiter makes no difficulty to ſend a lying dream to Agamemnon, chief of the Greeks. Diſſimulation is recommended by the goddeſs Minervaa. Ulyſſes delcares his deteſtation at uſing freedom with truthb: and yet no man deals more in feigned ſtoriesc. In the 22d book of the Iliad, Minerva is guilty of groſs deceit and treachery to Hector. When he flies from Achilles, ſhe appears to him in the ſhape of his brother Deiphobus, exhorts him to turn upon Achilles, and promiſes to aſſiſt him. Hec⯑tor calls upon his brother for another lance; but in vain, for Deiphobus was not there. The Greeks in Homer's time muſt have been ſtrange⯑ly deformed in their morals, when ſuch a ſtory [101] could be reliſhed*. A nation begins not to po⯑liſh nor to advance in morality, till writing be common; and writing was not known among the Greeks at the ſiege of Troy. Nor were the morals of that people, as we ſee, much purified for a long time after writing became common. When Plautus wrote, the Roman ſyſtem of mo⯑rals muſt have been extremely impure. In his play termed Menaechmi, a gentleman of faſhion having accidentally got into his hands a lady's robe with a gold claſp, inſtead of returning them to the owner, endeavours to ſell them without ſhame or remorſe. Such a ſcene would not be ſuffered at preſent, except among pick-pockets. Both the Greeks and Carthaginians were held by the Romans to be artful and cunning. The Ro⯑mans continued a plain people, with much ſim⯑plicity of manners, when the nations mentioned had made great progreſs in the arts of life; and it is a fad truth, that morality declines in propor⯑tion as a nation poliſhes. But if the Romans were later than the Greeks and Carthaginians in the arts of life, they ſoon ſurpaſſed them in eve⯑ry ſort of immorality. For this change of man⯑ners they were indebted to their rapid conqueſts. The ſanguinary diſpoſition both of the Greeks and Romans, appears from another practice, that [102] of expoſing their infant children, which conti⯑nued till humanity came in ſome meaſure to pre⯑vail. The practice continues in China to this day, the populouſneſs of the country throwing a veil over the cruelty; but from the humanity of the Chineſe, I conjecture, that the practice will be found rare. The Jews, a cloudy and peeviſh tribe, much addicted to bloodſhed, were miſera⯑bly defective in moral principles. Take the fol⯑lowing examples out of an endleſs number re⯑corded in the bocks of the old Teſtament. Jael, wife of Heber, took under her protection Siſera general of the Canaanites, and engaged her faith for his ſecurity. She put him treacherouſly to death when aſleep; and was applauded by Debo⯑rah the propheteſs for the meritorious actiona. That horrid deed would probably have appeared to her in a different light, had it been commit⯑ted againſt Barac, general of the Iſraelites. Da⯑vid, flying from Saul, took refuge with Achiſh, King of Gath; and though protected by that King, made war againſt the King's allies, ſay⯑ing, that it was againſt his own countrymen of Judah. ‘"And David ſaved neither man nor woman alive to bring tidings to Gath. And Achiſh believed David, ſaying, He hath made his people Iſrael utterly to abhor him: there⯑fore he ſhall be my ſervant for everb."’ This was a complication of ingratitude, lying, and treachery. Ziba, by preſents to king Da⯑vid, and by defaming his maſter Mephiboſheth, procured from the king a gift of his maſter's in⯑heritance; [103] though Mephiboſheth had neither trimmed his beard, nor waſhed his cloaths, from the day the king departed till he returned in peace. ‘"And it came to paſs, when Mephi⯑boſheth was come to Jeruſalem to meet the king, that the king ſaid unto him, Wherefore wenteſt thou not with me, Mephiboſheth? And he anſwered, My lord, O king, my ſer⯑vant deceived me; for thy ſervant ſaid, I will ſaddle me an aſs, that I may ride thereon, and go to the king; becauſe thy ſervant is lame, and he hath ſlandered thy ſervant unto my lord the king. But my lord the king is an an⯑gel of God: do therefore what is good in thine eyes. For all my father's houſe were but dead men before my lord the king: yet didſt thou ſet thy ſervant among them that did eat at thine own table: what right therefore have I to cry any more unto the king?"’ David could not poſſibly atone for his raſhneſs, but by reſtoring to Mephiboſheth his inheritance, and puniſhing Ziba in an exemplary manner. But hear the ſentence: ‘"And the king ſaid unto him, Why ſpeakeſt thou any more of thy matters? I have ſaid, Thou and Ziba divide the landa."’ The ſame king, after par⯑doning Shimei for curſing him, and ſwearing that he ſhould not die; yet upon his death-bed enjoined his ſon Solomon to put Shimei to death: ‘"Now therefore hold him not guiltleſs; but his hoary head bring thou down to the grave with bloodb."’ I wiſh not to be miſapprehend⯑ed, [104] as intending to cenſure David in particular. If the beſt king the Jews ever had, was ſo mi⯑ſerably deficient in morality, what muſt be thought of the nation in general? When David was lurking to avoid the wrath of Saul, he be⯑came acquainted with Nabal, who had a great ſtock of cattle. ‘"He diſcharged his followers,"’ ſays Joſephusa, ‘"either for avarice, or hun⯑ger, or any pretext whatever, to touch a ſin⯑gle hair of them; preaching ſtill on the text of doing juſtice to all men, in conformity to the will of God, who is not pleaſed with any man that covets or lays violent hands on the goods of his neighbour."’ Our author pro⯑ceeds to acquaint us, that Nabal having refuſed to ſupply David with proviſions, and having ſent back the meſſengers with a ſcoffing anſwer, Da⯑vid in great rage made a vow, that he would de⯑ſtroy Nabal with his houſe and family. Our au⯑thor obſerves, that David's indignation againſt Nabal, was not ſo much for his ingratitude, as for the virulence of an inſolent outrage againſt one who had never injured him. And what was the outrage? It was, ſays our author, that Na⯑bal enquiring who the ſaid David was, and being told that he was one of the ſons of Jeſſe, ‘"Yes, yes,"’ ſays Nabal, ‘"your run-away ſervants look upon themſelves to be brave fellows, I warrant you."’ Strange looſeneſs of morals! I mean not David, who was in wrath, but Joſe⯑phus writing ſedately in his cloſet. He every where celebrates David for his juſtice and piety, compoſes for him the very warm exhortation mentioned above: and yet thinks him not guilty [105] of any wrong, in vowing to break every rule of juſtice and humanity, upon ſo ſlight a provocati⯑on as a ſcoffing expreſſion, ſuch as no man of temper will regard.
European nations, who originally were fierce and ſanguinary like the Greeks and Jews, had the ſame cloudy and uncorrect notions of right and wrong. It is ſcarce neceſſary to give inſtan⯑ces, the low ſtate of morality during the dark ages of Chriſtianity being known to all. In the time of Louis XI. of France, promiſes and en⯑gagements were utterly diſregarded, till they were ſanctified by a ſolemn oath: nor were ſuch oaths long regarded; they loſt their force, and were not relied on more than ſimple promiſes. All faith among men ſeemed to be at an end. Even thoſe who appeared the moſt ſcrupulous about character, were however ready to graſp at any ſubterfuge to excuſe their breach of engage⯑ment. And it is a ſtill ſtronger proof of ſelf-de⯑ceit, that ſuch ſubterfuges were frequently pre⯑pared beforehand, in order to furniſh an excuſe. It was a common practice ſome ages ago, to make private proteſtations, which were thought ſufficient to relieve men in conſcience from being bound by a ſolemn treaty. Charles, afterward Emperor of Germany, during his minority, gave authority to declare publicly his acceſſion to a treaty of peace, between his grandfather Max⯑imilian and the King of France: but at the ſame time proteſted privately, before a notary and wit⯑neſſes, ‘"That notwithſtanding his public acceſ⯑ſion to the ſaid treaty, it was not his intention to be bound by every article of it; and parti⯑cularly, that the clauſe reſerving to the King of France the ſovereignty of certain territories in the Netherlands, ſhould not be binding."’ Is it poſſible Charles could be ſo blind, as not to [106] ſee, that ſuch practice, if it have any effect, muſt deſtroy all faith among men? What better was this than what was practiſed by Robert King of France in the tenth century, to free his ſub⯑jects from the guilt of perjury? They ſwore upon a box of relics, out of which the relics were privately taken. Correa, a Portugueſe ge⯑neral, made a treaty with the King of Pegu; and it was agreed, that each party ſhould ſwear to obſerve the treaty, laying his hand upon the ſa⯑cred book of his religion. Correa ſwore upon a collection of ſongs, and by that vile ſtratagem thought that he was not bound. The inhabitants of Britain were ſo looſe formerly, that a man was not reckoned ſafe in his own houſe, without a maſtiff to protect him from violence. Maſtiffs were permitted even to thoſe who dwelt within the king's foreſts; and to prevent danger to the deer, there was in England a court for Lawing or expeditation of maſtives, i. e. for cutting off the claws of their fore-feet, to prevent them from runninga. The trial and condemnation of Charles I. in a pretended court of juſtice, how⯑ever audacious and unconſtitutional, was yet an effort toward regularity and order. In the prece⯑ding age, the king would have been taken off by aſſaſſination or poiſon. Every prince in Europe had an officer whoſe province it was to ſecure his maſter againſt poiſon. A lady was appointed to that office by Queen Elizabeth of England; and the form was, to give to each of the ſervants a mouthful to eat of the diſh he brought in. Poi⯑ſon muſt have been frequent in thoſe days, to make ſuch a regulation neceſſary. To vouch ſtill more clearly the low ebb of morality during that [107] period, ſeldom it happened that a man of figure died ſuddenly, or of an unuſual diſeaſe, but poi⯑ſon was ſuſpected. Men conſcious of their own vicious diſpoſition, are prone to ſuſpect others. The Dauphin, ſon to Francis I. of France, a youth of about eighteen, having overheated him⯑ſelf at play, took a great draught of iced water, and died of a pleuriſy in five days. The death was ſudden, but none is more natural. The ſuſ⯑picion however of poiſon was univerſal; and Montecuculi, who attended the young prince, was formally condemned to death and executed for it; for no better reaſon, than that he had at all times ready acceſs to the prince.
Conſidering the low ſtate of morality where diſſocial paſſions bear rule, as in the ſcenes now diſplayed, one would require a miracle to recover mankind out of ſuch anarchy. But, as obſerved abovea, Providence brings order out of confu⯑ſion. The intolerable diſtreſs of a ſtate of things where a promiſe, or even an oath, is a rope of ſand, and where all are ſet againſt allb, made people at laſt ſenſible, that they muſt either re⯑nounce ſociety altogether, or qualify themſelves for it, by checking their diſſocial paſſions. Find⯑ing from experience, that the gratification of ſo⯑cial affections exceeds greatly that of cruelty and revenge, men endeavoured to acquire a habit of ſelf-command, and of reſtraining their ſtormy paſſions. The neceſſity of fulfilling every moral duty was recogniſed: men liſtened to conſcience, the voice of God in their hearts: and the moral ſenſe was cordially ſubmitted to, as the ultimate [108] judge in all matters of right and wrong. Saluta⯑ry laws and ſteady government contributed to per⯑fect that glorious revolution: private conviction alone would not have been effectual, not at leaſt in many ages.
From that revolution is derived what is termed the law of nations, meaning certain regulations dictated by the moral ſenſe in its maturity. The laws of our nature refine gradually as our nature refines. The putting an enemy to death in cold blood, is averſe to improved nature, though com⯑mon while barbarity prevailed. It is held infamous to uſe poiſoned weapons, though the moral ſenſe made little oppoſition while rancour and revenge were ruling paſſions. Averſion againſt ſtrangers is taught to vary its object, from individuals to the nation that is our enemy: I bear enmity againſt France; but diſlike not any one French⯑man, being conſcious that it is the duty of ſub⯑jects to ſerve their king and country*. In diſtri⯑buting juſtice, we make no diſtinction between natives and foreigners: if any partiality be in⯑dulged, it is in favour of the helpleſs ſtranger.
But cruelty is not the only antagoniſt to mora⯑lity. There is another, leſs violent indeed, but more cunning and undermining; and that is the hoarding-appetite. Before money was introduced, that appetite was extremely faint: in the firſt ſtage of civil ſociety, men are ſatisfied with plain neceſſaries; and having theſe in plenty, they think [109] not of providing againſt want. But money is a ſpecies of property, ſo univerſal in operation, and ſo permanent in value, as to rouſe the appe⯑tite for hoarding: love of money excites induſtry; and the many beautiful productions of induſtry, magnificent houſes, ſplendid gardens, rich gar⯑ments, inflame the appetite to an extreme. In the thirteenth century, ſo obſcured was the moral ſenſe by rapacity and avarice, that robbery on the high-way, and the coining falſe money, were in Germany held to be privileges of great lords. That perjury was common in the city of London, eſpecially among jurymen, makes a preamble in more than one ſtatute of Henry VII. In the Dance of Death, tranſlated from the French in the ſaid king's reign, with additions adapted to Engliſh manners, a juryman is introduced, who, influenced by bribes, had often given a falſe ver⯑dict. And the ſheriff was often ſuſpected as ac⯑ceſſory to the crime, by returning for jurymen perſons of a bad character. Carew, in his ac⯑count of Cornwall, ſays, that it was an ordinary article in an attorney's bill, to charge pro amicitia vicecomitis *. Perjury in jurors of the city of London, is greatly complained of. Stow informs us, that, in the year 1468, many jurors of that city were puniſhed, and papers fixed on their heads, declaring their offence, of being corrupted by the parties to the ſuit. He complains of that corruption as flagrant in the reign of Elizabeth, when he wrote his account of London. Fuller, in his Engliſh Worthies, mentions it as a pro⯑verbial ſaying, ‘"That London juries hang half, and ſave half."’ Grafton, in his Chronicle, [110] mentions, that the chancellor of the Biſhop of London being indicted for murder, the Biſhop wrote a letter to Cardinal Wolſey, begging his interpoſition for having the proſecution ſtopt, ‘"becauſe London juries were ſo corrupted, that they would find Abel guilty of the murder of Cain."’ In that period, the morals of the Engliſh were in every particular extremely looſe. We learn from Strype's annalsa, that in the county of Somerſet alone, forty perſons were ex⯑ecuted in one year for robbery, theft, and other felonies, thirty-five burnt in the hand, thirty-ſeven whipped, one hundred and eighty-three diſcharged, though moſt wicked and deſperate perſons; and yet that the fifth part of the felo⯑nies committed in that county were not brought to trial, either from cunning in the felons, indolence in the magiſtrate, or fooliſh lenity in the people; that other counties were in no better condition, and many in a worſe; and that commonly there were three or four hundred able-bodied vagabonds in every county, who lived by theft and rapine. Harriſon computes, that in the reign of Henry VIII. ſeventy-two thouſand thieves and rogues were hanged; and that in Elizabeth's time there were only hanged yearly between three and four hundred for theft and robbery. At preſent, there are not forty hanged in a year for theſe crimes. The ſame author reports, that in the reign of Eli⯑zabeth, there were computed to be in England ten thouſand gypſies. In the year 1601, com⯑plaints were made in parliament, of the rapine of the juſtices of peace; and a member ſaid, that this magiſtrate was an animal, who, for half a dozen of chickens, would diſpenſe with a dozen [111] of penal ſtatutes. The people of Whidah, in Guinea, are much addicted to pilfering. Boſman was told by the King, ‘"That his ſubjects were not like thoſe of Ardrah, who on the ſlighteſt umbrage will poiſon an European. This, ſays he, you have no reaſon to apprehend here: but take care of your goods; for ſo expert are my people at thieving, that they will ſteal from you while you are looking on."’ The Caribbeans, who know no wants but what nature inſpires, are amazed at the induſtry of the Eu⯑ropeans in amaſſing wealth. Liſten to one of them expoſtulating with a Frenchman in the fol⯑lowing terms: ‘"How miſerable art thou, to ex⯑poſe thy perſon to tedious and dangerous voy⯑ages and to ſuffer thyſelf to be oppreſſed with anxiety about futurity! An inordinate appetite for wealth is thy bane; and yet thou art no leſs tormented in preſerving the goods thou haſt acquired, than in acquiring more: fear of robbery or ſhipwreck ſuffers thee not to enjoy a quiet moment. Thus thou groweſt old in thy youth, thy hair turns gray, thy forehead is wrinkled, a thouſand ailments afflict thy body, a thouſand diſtreſſes ſurround thy heart, and thou moveſt with painful hurry to the grave. Why art thou not content with what thy own country produceth? Why not contemn ſuper⯑fluities, as we do?"’
To control the hoarding appetite, which when inflamed is the bane of civil ſociety, the God of nature has provided two efficacious principles; the moral ſenſe, and the ſenſe of property. The hoarding appetite, it is true, is more and more inflamed by beautiful productions in the progreſs of art: but, on the other hand, the ſenſes men⯑tioned growing to maturity, have a commanding influence over the actions of men; and, when [112] cheriſhed in a good government, are a ſufficient counterbalance to the hoarding appetite. The an⯑cient Egyptians enjoyed for ages the bleſſings of good government; and moral principles were among them carried to a greater degree of refine⯑ment, than at preſent even in our courts of equi⯑ty. It was made the duty of every one, to ſuc⯑cour thoſe who were unjuſtly attacked: even paſ⯑ſengers were not exempted. A regulation among them, that a man could not be impriſoned for debt, was well ſuited to the tenor of their laws and manners: it could not have taken place but among an honeſt and induſtrious people. In old Rome, though remarkable for temperance and au⯑ſterity of manners, a debtor could be impriſoned, and even ſold as a ſlave, for payment of the debt; but the Patricians were the creditors, and the poor Plebeians were held in woful ſubjection*. The [113] moderation of the inhabitants of Hamburgh, and their public ſpirit, kept in vigour by a free government, preſerve morality among them en⯑tire from taint or corruption. I give an illuſtrious inſtance. Inſtead of a tax upon trade or riches, every merchant puts privately into the public cheſt, what he thinks ought to be his contributi⯑on: the total ſum ſeldom falls ſhort of expectati⯑on; and among that numerous body of men, not one is ſuſpected of contributing leſs than his pro⯑portion. But luxury has not yet got footing in that city. A climate not kindly, and a ſoil not fertile, enured the Swiſs to temperance and to [114] virtue. Patriotiſm continues their ruling paſſion: they are fond of ſerving their country; and are ho⯑neſt and faithful to each other: a law-ſuit among them is a wonder; and a door is ſeldom ſhut un⯑leſs to keep out cold.
The hurtful effects of the hoarding appetite with reſpect to individuals, make no figure com⯑pared with its poiſonous influence upon the pub⯑lic, in every ſtate enriched by conqueſt or by com⯑merce; which I have had more than one oppor⯑tunity to mention. Overflowing riches unequally diſtributed, multiply artificial wants beyond all bounds: they eradicate patriotiſm: they foſter luxury, ſenſuality, and ſelfiſhneſs, which are com⯑monly gratified at the expence even of juſtice and honour. The Athenians were early corrupted by opulence; to which every thing was made ſubſervient. ‘"It is an oracle,"’ ſays the chorus in the Agamemnon of Eſchylus, ‘"that is not purchaſed with money."’ During the infancy of a nation, vice prevails from imbecility in the moral ſenſe: in the decline of a nation, it pre⯑vails from the corruption of affluence.
In a ſmall ſtate, there is commonly much virtue at home, and much violence abroad. The Ro⯑mans were to their neighbours more baneful than famine or peſtilence; but patriotiſm in them oc⯑caſioned great integrity at home. An oath when given to fortify an engagement with a fellow⯑citizen, was more ſacred at Rome than in any other part of the worlda. The cenſorian office cannot ſucceed but among a virtuous peo⯑ple; becauſe its rewards and puniſhments have no influence but upon thoſe who are aſhamed of [115] vice*. As ſoon as Aſiatic opulence and luxury prevailed in Rome, ſelfiſhneſs, ſenſuality, and avarice, formed the character of the Romans; and the cenſorian power was at an end. Such re⯑laxation of morals enſued, as to make a law ne⯑ceſſary prohibiting the cuſtody of an infant to be given to the heir, for fear of murder. And for the ſame reaſon, it was held unlawful to make a covenant de hereditate viventis. Theſe regulati⯑ons prove the Romans to have been groſsly cor⯑rupt. Our law is different in both articles; becauſe it entertains not the ſame bad opinion of the people whom it governs. Domitius Enobarbus and Appius Pulcher were conſuls of Rome in the 699th year; and Memmius and Calvinus were candi⯑dates for ſucceeding them in that office. It was agreed among theſe four worthy gentlemen, that they ſhould mutually aſſiſt each other. The con⯑ſuls engaged to promote the election of Mem⯑mius and Calvinus: and they, on the other hand, ſubſcribed a bond, obliging themſelves, under a penalty of about L. 3000 Sterling, to procure three augurs, who ſhould atteſt, that they were preſent in the comitia when a law paſſed, inveſt⯑ing the conſuls with military command in their provinces; and alſo obliging themſelves to pro⯑duce three perſons of conſular rank, to depoſe, that they were not only preſent in the ſenate, but actually in the number of thoſe who ſigned a de⯑cree, [116] conferring on the conſuls the uſual procon⯑ſular appointments. And yet the law made in the comitia, and the decree in the ſenate, were pure fictions, never even ſpoken of. Infamous as this tranſaction was, Memmius, to anſwer ſome political purpoſe, was not aſhamed to divulge it to the ſenate. This ſame Memmius, however, continued to be Cicero's correſpondent, and his profeſſed friend. Proh tempora! proh mores! But power and riches were at that time ruling paſ⯑ſions and the principles of morality were very lit⯑tle regarded.
It is needleſs to diſſemble, that ſelfiſhneſs, ſen⯑ſuality, and avarice, muſt in England be the fruits of great opulence, as in every other coun⯑try; and that morality cannot maintain its autho⯑rity againſt ſuch undermining antagoniſts. Cuſtom-houſe-oaths have become ſo familiar among us, as to be ſwallowed without a wry face; and is it certain, that bribery and perjury in electing par⯑liament-members, are not approaching to the ſame cool ſtate? In the infancy of morality, a promiſe makes but a ſlight impreſſion: to give it force, it is commonly accompanied with many ſo⯑lemnitiesa; and in treaties between ſovereigns, even theſe ſolemnities are not relied on without a ſolemn oath. When morality arrives at maturi⯑ty, the oath is thought unneceſſary; and at pre⯑ſent, morality is ſo much on the decline, that a ſolemn oath is not more relied on, than a ſimple promiſe was originally. Laws have been made to prevent ſuch immorality, but in vain: becauſe none but patriots have an intereſt to ſupport them; and when patriotiſm is baniſhed by cor⯑ruption, there is no remaining ſpring in govern⯑ment [117] to make them effectual. The ſtatutes made againſt gaming, and againſt bribery and corruption in elections, have no authority over a degenerate people. Nothing is ſtudied, but how to evade the penalties; and ſuppoſing ſtatutes to be made without end for preventing known evaſi⯑ons, new evaſions will ſpring up in their ſtead. The miſery is, that ſuch laws, if they prove abor⯑tive, are never innocent with regard to conſequen⯑ces; for nothing is more ſubverſive of morality as well as of patriotiſm, than a habit of diſregarding the laws of our country*.
But pride ſometimes happily interpoſes to ſtem the tide of corruption. The poor are not aſham⯑ed [118] to take a bribe from the rich; nor weak ſtates from thoſe that are powerful, diſguiſed only un⯑der the name of ſubſidy or penſion. Both France and England have been in the practice of ſecuring the alliance of ſome foreign princes by penſions; and it is natural in the miniſters of a penſioned prince, to receive a gratification for keeping their maſter to his engagement. England never was at any time ſo inferior to France, as to ſuffer their king to accept a penſion, whatever private tranſ⯑actions might be between the kings themſelves. But the miniſters of England thought it no diſpa⯑ragement, to receive penſions from France. E⯑very miniſter of Edward IV. of England received a penſion from Louis XI.; and they made no difficulty of granting a receipt accordingly. The old Earl of Warwick, ſays Commines, was the only exception: he took the money, but refuſed a receipt. Cardinal Wolſey had a penſion both from the Emperor and from the King of France: and his maſter Henry was vain, that his miniſter was ſo much regarded by the firſt powers in Eu⯑rope. During the reigns of Charles II. and of his brother James, England made ſo deſpicable a figure, that the miniſters accepted penſions from Louis XIV. A king void of virtue was never well ſerved. King Charles, moſt diſgraceful⯑ly accepted a penſion from France? what ſcruple could his miniſters have? Britain, governed by a king eminently virtuous and patriotic, makes at preſent ſo great a figure, that even the loweſt miniſter would diſdain a penſion from any foreign prince. Men formerly were ſo blind as not to ſee, that a penſion creates a bias in a miniſter, againſt his maſter and his country. At preſent, men are ſo quick-ſighted as clearly to ſee, that a foreign penſion to a miniſter is no better than a bribe; and it would be held ſo by all the world.
[119] In a nation enriched by conqueſt or commerce, where ſelfiſh paſſions always prevail, it is diffi⯑cult to ſtem the tide of immorality: the decline of virtue may be retarded by wholeſome regula⯑tions; but no regulations will ever reſtore it to its meridian vigour. Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome, cauſed ſtatues to be made of all the brave men who figured in the Germanic war. It has long been a practice in China, to honour perſons eminent for virtue, by feaſting them an⯑nually at the Emperor's expence. A late Empe⯑ror made an improvement: he ordered reports to be ſent him annually, of men and women who when alive had been remarkable for public ſpirit or private virtue, in order that monuments might be erected to their memory. The following re⯑port is one of many that were ſent to the Empe⯑ror. ‘"According to the order of your Majeſty, for erecting monuments to the honour of wo⯑men, who have been celebrated for conti⯑nence, for filial piety, or for purity of man⯑ners, the viceroy of Canton reports, that in the town of Sinhoei, a beautiful young wo⯑man, named Leang, ſacrificed her life to ſave her chaſtity. In the fifteenth year of our Em⯑peror Canghi, ſhe was dragged by pirates into their ſhip; and having no other way to eſ⯑cape their brutal luſt, ſhe threw herſelf head⯑long into the ſea. Being of opinion, that to prefer honour before life is an example worthy of imitation, we purpoſe, according to your Majeſty's order, to erect a triumphal arch for that young woman, and to engrave her ſtory upon a large ſtone, that it may be preſerved in perpetual remembrance."’ At the foot of the report is written, The Emperor approves. Pity it is, that ſuch regulations ſhould ever prove abortive, for their purpoſe is excellent. But [120] they would need angels to put them in execution. Every deviation from a juſt ſelection enervates them; and frequent deviations render them a ſubject of ridicule. But how are deviations to be prevented, when men are the judges? Thoſe who diſtribute the rewards will prefer their friends, and overlook thoſe of greater merit. Like the cenſorian power in Rome, ſuch regula⯑tions, after many abuſes, will ſink into con⯑tempt.
Two errors, which infeſted morality in dark times, have occaſioned much injuſtice; and I am not certain, that they are yet totally eradicated. The firſt is an opinion, That an action derives its quality of right and wrong from the event, without regard to intention. The other is, That the end juſtifies the means; or, in other words, That means, otherwiſe unlawful, may be law⯑fully employed to bring about a good end. With an account of theſe two errors, I ſhall cloſe the preſent hiſtorical ſketch.
That intention is the circumſtance which qua⯑lifies an action, and its author, to be criminal or innocent, is made evident in the firſt part of the preſent ſketch, and is now admitted to be ſo by every moral writer. But rude and barbarous na⯑tions ſeldom carry their thoughts beyond what falls under their external ſenſes: they conclude an action to be right that happens to do good, and an action to be wrong that happens to do harm; without ever thinking of motives, of will, of intention, or of any circumſtance that is not obvious to eye-ſight. From many paſſages in the Old Teſtament it appears, that the external act only, with its conſequences, were regarded. Iſaac, imitating his father Abraham, made his wife Rebecca paſs for his ſiſter. Abimelech, King of the Philiſtines, having diſcovered the [121] impoſture, ſaid to Iſaac, ‘"What is this thou haſt done unto us? One of the people might lightly have lien with thy wife, and thou ſhouldſt have brought guiltineſs upon usa."’ Jonathan was condemned to die for tranſgreſſing a prohibition he never heard ofb. A ſin of ignorance, i. e. an action done without ill inten⯑tion, required a ſacrifice of expiationc. Saul being defeated by the Philiſtines, fell on his own ſword: the wound not being mortal, he prevail⯑ed on a young Amalekite, to pull out the ſword, and to diſpatch him with it. Joſephusd ſays, that David ordered the criminal to be delivered up to juſtice as a regicide.
The Greeks appear to have wavered greatly about intention, ſometimes holding it eſſential to a crime, and ſometimes diſregarding it as a cir⯑cumſtance of no moment. Of theſe contradic⯑tory opinions we have pregnant evidence in the two tragedies of Oedipus; the firſt taking it for granted, that a crime conſiſts entirely in the ex⯑ternal act and its conſequences; the other hold⯑ing intention to be indiſpenſable. Oedipus had killed his father Laius, and married his mother Jocaſta; but without any criminal intention, be⯑ing ignorant of his relation to them. And yet hiſtory informs us, that the gods puniſhed the Thebans with peſtilence, for ſuffering a wretch ſo groſsly criminal to live. Sophocles, author of both tragedies, puts the following words in the mouth of Tireſias the prophet.
And that doctrine is eſpouſed by Ariſtotle in a later period, who holding Oedipus to have been deeply criminal, though without intention, is of opinion, that a more proper ſubject for tragedy never was brought upon the ſtage. Nay as a philoſopher he talks currently of an involuntary crime. Oreſtes, in Euripides, acknowledges him⯑ſelf to be guilty in killing his mother; yet aſſerts with the ſame breath, that his crime was inevi⯑table, a neceſſary crime, a crime commanded by religion.
In Oedipus Coloneus, the other tragedy menti⯑oned, a very different propoſition is maintained. A defence is made for that unlucky man, agreeable to ſound moral principles, that, having had no bad intention, he was entirely innocent; and that his misfortunes ought to be aſcribed to the wrath of the gods.
Again, in the fourth act, the following prayer is put up for Oedipus by the chorus.
The audience was the ſame in both plays. Did they think Oedipus to be guilty in the one play, and innocent in the other? If they did not, how could both plays be reliſhed? if they did, they muſt have been groſsly ſtupid.
The ſtatues of a Roman Emperor were held ſo ſacred, that to treat them with any contempt was high treaſon. This ridiculous opinion was carried ſo far out of common ſenſe, that a man was held guilty of high treaſon, if a ſtone thrown by him happened accidentally to touch one of theſe ſtatues. And the law continued in force till abrogated by a reſcript of Severus Antoni⯑nusa.
[124] In England, ſo little was intention regarded, that caſual homicide, and even homicide in ſelf-defence, were capitally puniſhed. It requires ſtrong evidence to vouch ſo abſurd a law; and I have the ſtrongeſt, viz. the act of 52o Henry III. cap. 26. converting the capital puniſhment into a forfeiture of moveables. The ſame groſs blunder continued much longer to be law in Scot⯑land. By act 19. parl. 1649, renewed act 22. parl. 1661, the capital puniſhment is converted to impriſonment, or a fine to the wife and chil⯑dren. In a period ſo late as the Reſtoration, ſtrange blindneſs it was, not to perceive, that homicide in ſelf-defence, being a lawful act, juſ⯑tified by the ſtricteſt rules of morality, ſubjects not a man to puniſhment, more than the defend⯑ing his property againſt a robber; and that ca⯑ſual homicide, meaning homicide committed in⯑nocently without ill intention, may ſubject him to reparation, but never to any puniſhment, mild or ſevere.
The Jeſuits in their doctrines ſeem to reſt on the external act, diſregarding intention. It is with them a matter of perfect indifference, from what motive men obey the laws of God; and that the ſervice of thoſe who obey from fear of puniſhment, is no leſs acceptable to the Deity, than of thoſe who obey from a principle of love*.
[125] The other error mentioned above, is, That the end juſtifies the means. In defence of that propoſition, it is urged, that the character of the means is derived from the end; that every action muſt be right which contributes to a good end, and that every action muſt be wrong which con⯑tributes to an ill end. But thoſe who reaſon thus, ought firſt to conſider, whether reaſoning be at all applicable to the preſent ſubject. Rea⯑ſon is the true touchſtone of truth and falſehood; but the moral ſenſe is the only touchſtone of right and wrong; and to maintain, that reaſon is our guide in judging of right and wrong, is no leſs abſurd than to maintain, that the moral ſenſe is our guide in judging of truth and falſehood. The moral ſenſe dictates, that on no pretext whatever is it lawful to do an act of injuſtice, or any wronga: and men, conſcious that the moral ſenſe governs in matters of right and wrong, ſubmit implicitly to its dictates. Influ⯑enced however by the reaſoning mentioned, du⯑ring the nonage of the moral ſenſe, men did wrong currently in order to bring about a good end; witneſs pretended miracles and forged writ⯑ings, urged without reſerve by every ſect of Chriſtians againſt their antagoniſts. And I am ſorry to obſerve, that the error is not totally era⯑dicated: miſſionaries employed in converting in⯑fidels to the true faith, are little ſcrupulous about the means: they make no difficulty to feign pro⯑digies in order to convert thoſe who are not mov⯑ed by argument. Such pious frauds tend to ſap the very foundations of morality.
SKETCH III.
Principles and Progreſs of THEOLOGY.
[126]AS no branch of knowledge can vie with the⯑ology, either in dignity or importance, it juſtly claims to be a favourite ſtudy with every perſon endued with true taſte and ſolid judgment. From the time that writing was invented, natural religion has employed pens without number; and yet in no language is there found a com⯑plete hiſtory of it. That taſk is far above my abilities: I propoſe only a ſlight ſketch; which I ſhall glory in, however imperfect, if it excite any one of ſuperior talents to undertake a taſk ſo arduous.
CHAP. I.
Exiſtence of a DEITY.
THAT there are beings, one or many, powerful above men, has been generally believed among the various tribes of men: I may ſay univerſally believed, notwithſtanding what is [127] reported of ſome groſs ſavages; for reports re⯑pugnant to the common nature of man, require more able vouchers than a few illiterate voyagers. Among many ſavage tribes, there are no words but for objects of external ſenſe: is it ſurpriſing, that ſuch people are incapable to expreſs their re⯑ligious perceptions, or any perception of internal ſenſe? and from their ſilence can it be fairly pre⯑ſumed, that they have no ſuch perception*? The belief of ſuperior powers, in every country where there are words to expreſs it, is ſo well vouched, that in fair reaſoning it ought to be taken for granted among the few tribes where language is deficient. Even the groſſeſt idolatry affords to me evidence of that belief. No nation can be ſo brutiſh as to worſhip a ſtock or a ſtone, merely as ſuch. The viſible object is always imagined to be connected with ſome inviſible power; and the worſhip paid to the former, is as repreſenting the latter, or as in ſome manner connected with it. Every family among the ancient Lithuanians, en⯑tertained a real ſerpent as a houſehold god; and the ſame practice is at preſent univerſal, among the negroes in the kingdom of Whidah: it is not the ſerpent that is worſhipped, but ſome deity im⯑agined to reſide in it. The ancient Egyptians were not idiots, to pay divine honours to a bull [128] or a cat, as ſuch: the divine honours were paid to a deity, as reſiding in theſe animals. The ſun is to man a familiar object: as it is frequently obſcured by clouds, and totally eclipſed during night, a ſavage readily conceives it to be a great fire ſometimes flaming bright, ſometimes obſcured, and ſometimes extinguiſhed. Whence then ſun⯑worſhip, once univerſal among ſavages? Plainly from the ſame cauſe: it is not properly the ſun that is worſhipped, but a deity who is ſuppoſed to dwell in that luminary.
Taking it then for granted, that our belief of ſuperior powers has been long univerſal, the im⯑portant queſtion is, From what cauſe it proceeds. A belief ſo univerſal, and ſo permanent, cannot proceed from chance, but muſt have a cauſe ope⯑rating conſtantly and invariably upon all men in all ages. Philoſophers, who believe the world to be eternal and ſelf-exiſtent, and imagine it to be the only deity, though without intelligence, endeavour to account for our belief of ſuperior powers, from the terror that thunder and other elementary con⯑vulſions raiſe in ſavages; and thence conclude that ſuch belief is no evidence of a deity. Thus Lucretius,
[129] And Petronius Arbiter,
Man, during infancy a defenceleſs animal, is en⯑dued on that account with a large portion of fear. Savages, groſsly ignorant of cauſes and effects, take fright at every unuſual appearance, and re⯑cur to ſome malignant power as the cauſe. Now, if the authors quoted mean only, that the firſt perception of deity among ſavages is occaſioned by fear, I heartily ſubſcribe to their opinion. But if it was their meaning, that ſuch perceptions proceed from fear ſolely, without having any other cauſe, I wiſh to be informed, from what ſource is derived the belief we have of ſuperior benevolent beings. Fear cannot be the ſource: and it will be ſeen anon, that though malevolent deities were firſt recogniſed among ſavages; yet that in the progreſs of ſociety, the exiſtence of benevo⯑lent deities was univerſally believed. The fact is certain; and therefore fear is not the ſole [130] cauſe of our believing the exiſtence of ſuperior be⯑ings.
It is beſide to me evident, that the belief even of malevolent deities, once univerſal among all the tribes of men, cannot be accounted for from fear ſolely. I obſerve, firſt, That there are many men, to whom an eclipſe, an earthquake, and even thunder are unknown: Egypt in particular, though the country of ſuperſtition, is little or not at all acquainted with the two latter. Nor do ſuch appearances ſtrike terror into every one who is acquainted with them. The univerſality of the belief, muſt then have ſome cauſe more univerſal than fear. I obſerve next, That if the belief were founded ſolely on fear, it would die away gradually as men improve in the knowledge of cauſes and effects. Inſtruct a ſavage, that thun⯑der, an eclipſe, an earthquake, proceed from na⯑tural cauſes, and are not threatenings of an incenſ⯑ed deity; his fear of malevolent beings will va⯑niſh; and with it his belief in them, if founded ſolely on fear. Yet the direct contrary is true: in proportion as the human underſtanding ripens, our belief of ſuperior powers, or of a Deity, turns more and more firm and authoritative; which will be made evident in the chapter imme⯑diately following.
Philoſophers of more enlarged views, and of deeper penetration, may poſſibly think, that the operations of nature, and the government of this world, which loudly proclaim a Deity, may be ſufficient to open the eyes of the groſſeſt ſavages, and to convince them that there is a Deity. And to give due weight to the argument, I ſhall relate a converſation between a Greenlander and a Da⯑niſh miſſionary, mentioned by Crantz in his hiſ⯑tory of Greenland. ‘"It is true,"’ ſays the Green⯑lander, ‘"we were ignorant Heathens, and knew [131] little of a God, till you came. But you muſt not imagine, that no Greenlander thinks about theſe things. A kajaka, with all its tackle and implements, cannot exiſt but by the la⯑bour of man; and one who does not under⯑ſtand it, would ſpoil it. But the meaneſt bird requires more ſkill than the beſt kajak; and no man can make a bird. There is ſtill more ſkill required to make a man: by whom then was he made? He proceeded from his pa⯑rents, and they from their parents. But ſome muſt have been the firſt parents: whence did they proceed? Common report ſays, that they grew out of the earth: if ſo, why do not men ſtill grow out of the earth? And from whence came the earth itſelf, the ſun, the moon, the ſtars? Certainly there muſt be ſome being who made all theſe things, a being more wiſe than the wiſeſt man."’ The reaſoning here from effects to their cauſes, is ſta⯑ted with great preciſion; and were all men equal⯑ly penetrating with the Greenlander, ſuch reaſo⯑ning might perhaps be ſufficient to account for the belief of Deity, univerſally ſpread among all ſa⯑vages. But ſuch penetration is a rare quality among ſavages; and yet the belief of ſuperior powers is univerſal, not excepting even the groſſ⯑eſt ſavages, who are altogether incapable of rea⯑ſoning like our Greenland philoſopher. Natural hiſtory has made ſo rapid a progreſs of late years, and the finger of God is ſo viſible to us in the va⯑rious operations of nature, that we do not readily conceive how even ſavages can be ignorant: but it is a common fallacy in reaſoning, to judge of others by what we feel in ourſelves. And to [132] give juſter notions of the condition of ſavages, I take the liberty to introduce the Wogultzoi, a people in Siberia, as exhibiting a ſtriking picture of ſavages in their natural ſtate. That people were baptized at the command of Prince Gaga⯑rin, governor of the province; and Laurent Lange, in his relation of a journey from Peterſ⯑burgh to Pekin ann. 1715, gives the following account of their converſion. ‘"I had curioſity,"’ ſays he, ‘"to queſtion them about their worſhip before they embraced Chriſtianity. They ſaid, that they had an idol hung upon a tree, before which they proſtrated themſelves, raiſ⯑ing their eyes to heaven, and howling with a loud voice. They could not explain what they meant by howling; but only that every man howled in his own faſhion. Being inter⯑rogated, Whether, in raiſing their eyes to heaven, they knew that a god is there, who ſees all the actions, and even the thoughts of men; they anſwered ſimply, That heaven is too far above them to know whether a god be there or not; and that they had no care but to provide meat and drink. Another queſtion was put, Whether they had not more ſatisfac⯑tion in worſhipping the living God, than they formerly had in the darkneſs of idolatry; they anſwered, We ſee no great difference; and we do not break our heads about ſuch mat⯑ters."’ Judge how little capable ſuch ignorant ſavages are, to reaſon from effects to their cauſes, and to trace a Deity from the operations of nature. And it may be added with great certainty, that could they be made in any degree to conceive ſuch reaſoning, yet ſo weak and obſcure would their conviction be, as to reſt there without mov⯑ing them to any ſort of worſhip; which however [133] among ſavages goes hand in hand with the belief of ſuperior powers.
To ſum up this argument: As fear is a cauſe altogether inſufficient for the belief of Deity, univerſal among all tribes; and as reaſoning from effects to their cauſes can have no influence upon ignorant ſavages; what cauſe remains but nature itſelf? To make this belief univerſal, the image of the Deity muſt be ſtamped upon the mind of every human being, the ignorant equally with the knowing: nothing leſs is ſufficient. And the perception we have of Deity muſt proceed from an internal cauſe, which may be termed the ſenſe of Deity.
Included in the ſenſe of Deity, is the duty we are under to worſhip him. And to enforce that duty, the principle of devotion is made a part of our nature. All men accordingly agree in wor⯑ſhipping ſuperior beings, however they may dif⯑ſer in the mode of worſhip. And the univerſa⯑lity of ſuch worſhip, proves devotion to be an innate principle.
The perception we have of being accountable beings, ariſes from another branch of the ſenſe of Deity. We expect approbation from the Deity when we do right; and dread puniſhment from him when guilty of any crime; not excepting the moſt occult crimes, hid from every mortal eye. From what cauſe can dread proceed in that caſe, but from belief of a ſuperior being, aveng⯑er of wrongs? That dread, when immoderate, diſorders the mind, and makes every unuſual miſ⯑fortune paſs for a puniſhment inſlicted by an invi⯑ſible hand. ‘"And they ſaid one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we ſaw the anguiſh of his ſoul, when he beſought us, and we would not hear: there⯑fore is this diſtreſs come upon us. And Reu⯑ben [134] anſwered them, ſaying, Spake I not unto you, ſaying, Do not ſin againſt the child; and ye would not hear? therefore behold alſo his blood is requireda."’ Alphonſus King of Naples, was a cruel and tyrannical prince. He drove his people to deſpair with oppreſſive taxes, treacherouſly aſſaſſinated ſeveral of his ba⯑rons, and loaded others with chains. During proſperity, his conſcience gave him little diſqui⯑et; but in adverſity, his crimes ſtared him in the face, and made him believe that his diſtreſſes pro⯑ceeded from the hand of God, as a juſt puniſh⯑ment. He was terrified to diſtraction, when Charles VIII. of France approached with a nu⯑merous army: he deſerted his kingdom; and fled to hide himſelf from the face of God and man.
But admitting a ſenſe of Deity, is it evidence to us that a Deity actually exiſts? The anſwer is, That it is complete evidence. So framed is man as to rely on the evidence of his ſenſesb; which evidence it is not in his power to reject, were he even diſpoſed to be a ſceptic. And ex⯑perience confirms our belief; for our ſenſes, when in order, never deceive us.
The foregoing ſenſe of Deity is not the only evidence we have of his exiſtence: there is addi⯑tional evidence from other branches of our na⯑ture. Inherent in the nature of man are two paſſions, devotion, of which the Diety is the im⯑mediate and only object; and dread of puniſh⯑ment, when one is guilty of any crime. Theſe paſſions would be idle and abſurd were there no [135] Deity to be worſhipped or to be dreaded: they would be illuſory paſſions, having no object: they would be the ſingle inſtance of ſuch irregu⯑larity; and groſsly irregular it would be, to be endued with paſſions or principles contrived for no end or purpoſe. Man makes a capital figure; and is the moſt perfect being that inhabits this earth: how then is it poſſible to believe, that he ſhould be endued with paſſions contradictory to the regular and beautiful laws which govern all other things here? It is not credible. The paſ⯑ſions mentioned, both of them, direct us to a Deity, and afford us irreſiſtible evidence of his exiſtence.
Thus our Maker leaves no work of his imper⯑fect: he has revealed himſelf to us, in a way perfectly analagous to our nature: in the mind of every human creature, he has lighted up a lamp, which renders him viſible even to the weakeſt ſight. Nor ought it to eſcape obſervation, that here, as in every other caſe, the conduct of Pro⯑vidence to man, is uniform. It leaves him to be directed by reaſon, where liberty of choice is permitted: but in matters of duty, he is provi⯑ded with guides leſs fallible than reaſon: in per⯑forming his duty to man, he is guided by the mo⯑ral ſenſe; in performing his duty to God, he is guided by the ſenſe of Deity. In theſe mirrors, he perceives his duty intuitively.
It is no ſlight ſupport to this doctrine, that if there really be a Deity, it is highly preſumable, that he will reveal himſelf to man, fitted by na⯑ture to adore and worſhip him. To other ani⯑mals, the knowledge of a Deity is of no impor⯑tance: to man, it is of high importance. Were we totally ignorant of a Deity, this world would appear to us a mere chaos: under the govern⯑ment of a wiſe and benevolent Deity, chance is [136] excluded; and every event, the reſult of eſta⯑bliſhed laws, is perceived to be the beſt on the whole. Good men ſubmit to whatever happens, without repining, truſting that every event is or⯑dered by divine Providence: they ſubmit with entire reſignation; and ſuch reſignation is a ſove⯑reign balſam to every misfortune.
The ſenſe of Deity reſembles our other ſenſes, which lie dormant till a proper object preſent itſelf. When all is ſilent about us, the ſenſe of hearing is dormant; and if from infancy a man were confined to a dark room, he would be as ignorant of the ſenſe of ſeeing, as one born blind. Among ſavages, the objects that rouſe the ſenſe of Deity, are uncommon events above the power of man; an earthquake, for example, a hurricane, a total eclipſe of the ſun, a ſudden ſwell of a river that prevents their eſcape from an impending enemy. A ſavage, if he be acquain⯑ted with no events but what are familiar, has no perception of ſuperior powers; but thunder rat⯑tling in his ears, or the convulſion of an earth⯑quake, rouſes in him the ſenſe of Deity, and di⯑rects him to ſome ſuperior being as the cauſe of theſe dreadful effects. The ſavage, it is true, errs in aſcribing to the immediate operation of a Deity, things that have a natural cauſe: his er⯑ror however is evidence that he has a ſenſe of Deity, no leſs pregnant, than when he more juſt⯑ly attributes to the immediate operation of Deity, the formation of man, of this earth, of all the world.
The ſenſe of Deity, like the moral ſenſe, makes no capital figure among ſavages; the per⯑ceptions of both ſenſes being in them faint and obſcure. But in the progreſs of nations to matu⯑rity, theſe ſenſes turn more and more vigorous, ſo as among enlightened nations to acquire a com⯑manding [137] influence; leaving no doubt about right and wrong, and as little about the exiſtence of a Deity.
The obſcurity of the ſenſe of Deity among ſavages, has encouraged ſome ſceptical philoſo⯑phers to deny its exiſtence. It has been urged, That God does nothing by halves; and that if he intended to make himſelf known to man, the ſenſe of Deity would produce equal conviction with that of ſeeing or hearing. When we argue thus about the purpoſes of the Almighty, we tread on ſlippery ground, where we ſeldom fail to ſtumble. What if it be the purpoſe of the Deity, to afford us but an obſcure glimpſe of his being and attributes? We have reaſon from analogy to con⯑jecture, that this may be the caſe. From ſome particulars mentioned abovea, it appears at leaſt probable, that entire ſubmiſſion to the moral ſenſe, would be ill-ſuited to man in his preſent ſtate; and would prove more hurtful than benefi⯑cial. And to me it appears evident, that to be conſcious of the preſence of the Great God, as I am of a friend whom I hold by the hand, would be inconſiſtent with the part that Providence has deſtined me to act in this life. Reflect only on the reſtraint one is under, in preſence of a ſuperior, ſuppoſe the King himſelf: how much greater our reſtraint with the ſame lively impreſſion of God's awful preſence! Humility and veneration would leave no room for other paſſions: man would be no longer man; and the ſyſtem of our preſent ſtate would be totally ſubverted. Take another inſtance: Such a conviction of future re⯑wards and puniſhments as to overcome every in⯑ordinate deſire, would reduce us to the condition [138] of a traveller in a paltry inn, having no wiſh but for day-light to proſecute his journey. For that very reaſon, it appears agreeable to the plan of Providence, that we ſhould have but an obſcure glimpſe of futurity. As the ſame plan of Provi⯑dence is viſible in all, I conclude with aſſurance, that a certain degree of obſcurity, weighs nothing againſt the ſenſe of Deity, more than againſt the moral ſenſe, or againſt a future ſtate of rewards and puniſhments. Whether all men might not have been made angels, and whether more hap⯑pineſs might not have reſulted from a different ſyſtem, lie far beyond the reach of human knowledge. From what is known of the con⯑duct of Providence, we have reaſon to preſume, that our preſent ſtate is the reſult of wiſdom and benevolence. So much we know with certainty, that the ſenſe we have of Deity and of moral duty, correſpond accurately to the nature of man as an imperfect being; and that theſe ſenſes, were they abſolutely perfect, would unhinge his nature, and convert him into a very different being.
A theory eſpouſed by ſeveral writers ancient and modern, muſt not be overlooked; becauſe it pre⯑tends to compoſe the world without a Deity; which would reduce the ſenſe of Deity to be de⯑luſive, if it have any exiſtence. The theory is, That the world, compoſed of animals, vegetables, and brute matter, is ſelf-exiſtent and eternal; and that all events happen by a neceſſary chain of cauſes and effects. In this theory, though wiſdom and benevolence are conſpicuous in every part, yet the great work of planning and executing the whole, is underſtood to have been done blindly without intelligence or contrivance. It is ſcarce neceſſary to remark, that this theory, aſſumed at pleaſure, is highly improbable, if not abſurd; [139] and yet that it is left naked to the world without the leaſt cover or ſupport. But what I chiefly in⯑ſiſt on is, that the endleſs number of wiſe and be⯑nevolent effects, diſplayed every where on the face of this globe, afford to us complete evidence of a wiſe and benevolent cauſe; and as theſe effects are far above the power of man, we neceſſarily aſcribe them to ſome ſuperior being, or in other words to the Deitya. And this is ſufficient to remove the preſent objection againſt the ex⯑iſtence of a ſenſe of Deity. But I am not ſatisfied with this partial victory. I proceed to obſerve, that nothing more is required but the proof of a Deity, to overturn the ſuppoſition of ſelf-exiſt⯑ence in a world compoſed of many heterogeneous parts, and of a chain of cauſes and effects framed without intelligence or foreſight, though full of wiſdom and contrivance in every part. For if a Deity exiſt, wiſe and powerful above all other beings, ſelf-exiſtence ought to be his peculiar at⯑tribute; and no perſon of rationality will have any heſitation in rejecting the ſelf-exiſtence of ſuch a world, when ſo natural a ſuppoſition lies in view, as that the whole is the operation of the truly ſelf-exiſtent Being, whoſe power and wiſdom are fully adequate to that arduous taſk.
Many groſs and abſurd conceptions of Deity that have prevailed among rude nations, are urged by ſome writers as another objection againſt a ſenſe of Deity. That objection ſhall not be overlooked; but it will be anſwered to better pur⯑poſe, after theſe groſs and abſurd conceptions are [140] examined; which ſhall be done in the chapter im⯑mediately following.
The proof of a Deity from the innate ſenſe here explained, differs materially from what is con⯑tained in eſſays on morality and natural reli⯑giona. The proof there given is founded on a chain of reaſoning, altogether indepen⯑dent on the innate ſenſe of Deity. Both equal⯑ly produce conviction; hut as a ſenſe operates intuitively without reaſoning, the ſenſe of Deity is made a branch of human nature, in order to enlighten thoſe who are incapable of a long chain of reaſoning; and to ſuch, who make the bulk of mankind, it is more convincing, than the moſt perſpicuous reaſoning to a philoſo⯑pher.
CHAP. II.
Progreſs of Opinions with reſpect to DEITY.
THE ſenſe of Deity, like many other deli⯑cate ſenſes, is in ſavages ſo faint and ob⯑ſcure as eaſily to be biaſſed from truth. Among them, the belief of many ſuperior beings, is uni⯑verſal. [141] And two cauſes join to produce that belief. The firſt is, that being accuſtomed to a plurality of viſible objects, men, mountains, trees, cattle, and ſuch like, they are naturally led to imagine the ſame plurality in things not viſible; and from that ſlight bias, ſlight indeed but natu⯑ral, is partly derived the ſyſtem of Polytheiſm, univerſal among ſavages. The other is, that ſa⯑vages know little of the connection between cauſes and effects, and ſtill leſs of the order and govern⯑ment of this world: every event that is not fami⯑liar, appears to them ſingular and extraordinary; and if ſuch event exceed human power, it is with⯑out heſitation aſcribed to a ſuperior being. But as it occurs not to a ſavage, nor to any perſon who is not a philoſopher, that the many various events exceeding human power and ſeemingly unconnect⯑ed, may all proceed from the ſame cauſe; they are readily aſcribed to different beings. Pliny aſ⯑cribes Polytheiſm to another cauſe, viz. the con⯑ſciouſneſs men have of their imbecility: ‘"Our powers are confined within narrow bounds: we do not readily conceive powers in the Deity much more extenſive; and we ſupply by num⯑ber what is wanting in power."’ Polytheiſm, thus founded, is the firſt ſtage in the progreſs of theology; for it is embraced by the rudeſt ſavages, who have neither capacity nor in⯑clination to pierce deeper into the nature of things.
The next ſtage is diſtinguiſhable from others, by a belief that all ſuperior beings are malevolent. Man by nature weak and helpleſs, is prone to fear, dreading every new object and every unuſu⯑al event. Savages, having no protection againſt ſtorms, tempeſts, or other external accidents, and having no pleaſures but in gratifying hunger, thirſt, and animal love, have much to fear, and [142] little to hope. In that diſconſolate condition, they attribute the bulk of their diſtreſſes to inviſible beings, who in their opinion muſt be malevolent. This ſeems to have been the opinion of the Greeks in the days of Solon; as appears in a conver⯑ſation between him and Croeſus King of Lydia, mentioned by Herodotus in the firſt book of his hiſtory. ‘"Croeſus, ſaid Solon, you aſk me about human affairs; and I anſwer as one who thinks that all the gods are envious, and diſturbers of mankind."’ The negroes on the coaſt of Guinea, dread their deities as tyrants and oppreſſors: having no conception of a good deity, they attribute the few bleſſings they re⯑ceive, to the ſoil, to the rivers, to the trees, and to the plants. The Lithuanians continued Pagans down to the fourteenth century; and worſhipped in gloomy woods, where their deities were held to reſide. Their worſhip probably was prompt⯑ed by fear, which is allied to gloomineſs or darkneſs. The people of Kamſkatka acknowledge to this day many malevolent deities, having little or no notion of a good deity. They believe the air, the water, the mountains, and the woods, to be inhabited by malevolent ſpirits, whom they fear and worſhip. The ſavages of Guiana aſcribe to the devil even their moſt com⯑mon diſeaſes; nor do they ever think of another remedy, but to apply to a ſorcerer to drive him away. Such negroes as believe in the devil, paint his images white.
Conviction of ſuperior beings, who, like men, are of a mixed nature, ſometimes doing good, ſometimes miſchief, conſtitutes the third ſtage. This came to be the ſyſtem of theology in Greece. The introduction of writing among the Greeks, while they were little better than ſavages, produced a compound of character and [143] manners, that has not a parallel in any other na⯑tion. They were acute in ſcience, ſkilful in fine arts, extremely deficient in morals, groſs beyond conception in theology, and ſuperſtitious to a de⯑gree of folly; a ſtrange jumble of exquiſite ſenſe and abſurd nonſenſe. They held their gods to reſemble men in their external figure, and to be corporeal. In the 21ſt book of the Iliad, Mi⯑nerva with a huge ſtone beats Mars to the ground, whoſe monſtrous body covered ſeven broad acres. As corporeal beings, they were ſuppoſed to re⯑quire the nouriſhment of meat, drink, and ſleep. Homer mentions more than once the inviting of gods to a feaſt: and Pauſanias reports, that in the temple of Bacchus at Athens, there were fi⯑gures of clay, repreſenting a feaſt given by Am⯑phyction to Bacchus and other deities. The in⯑habitants of the iſland Java are not ſo groſs in their conceptions, as to think that the gods eat the offerings preſented to them: but it is their opinion, that a deity brings his mouth near the offering, ſucks out all its ſavour, and leaves it taſteleſs like water*. The Grecian gods, as de⯑ſcribed by Homer, dreſs, bathe, and anoint, like mortals. Venus, after being detected by her Huſband in the embraces of Mars, retires to Paphos;
Juno's dreſs is moſt poetically deſcribed, Iliad, book 14. It was alſo univerſally believed, that the gods were fond of women, and had many children by them. The ancient Germans thought more ſenſibly, that the gods were too high to re⯑ſemble men in any degree, or to be confined within the walls of a temple. Led by the ſame impreſſions of deity, the Greeks ſeem to have thought, that the gods did not much exceed themſelves in knowledge. When Ageſilaus jour⯑neyed with his private retinue, he uſually lodged in a temple; making the gods witneſſes, ſays Plutarch, of his moſt ſecret actions. The Greeks thought, that a god, like a man, might know what paſſed within his own houſe; without knowing any thing paſſing at a greater diſtance. Agamemnon, in Eſchylus, putting off his travel⯑ling habit, and dreſſing himſelf in ſplendid pur⯑ple, is afraid of being ſeen and envied by ſome jealous god. We learn from Seneca, that peo⯑ple ſtrove for the ſeat next to the image of the deity, that their prayers might be the better heard. But what we hae chiefly to remark up⯑on this head, is, that the Grecian gods were, like men, held capable of doing both good and ill. Jupiter, their higheſt deity, was a raviſh⯑er of women, and a notorious adulterer. In the ſecond book of the Iliad, he ſends a lying dream to deceive Agamemnon. Mars ſeduces Venus by bribes to commit adulterya. In the [145] Rheſus of Euripides, Minerva, diſguiſed like Venus, deceives Paris by a groſs lie. The ground-work of the tragedy of Xuthus is a lying oracle, declaring Ion, ſon of Apollo and Creuſa, to be the ſon of Xuthus. Oreſtes in Euripides, having ſlain his mother Clytemneſtra, excuſes himſelf as having been miſled by Apollo to com⯑mit the crime. ‘"Ah!"’ ſays he, ‘"had I con⯑ſulted the ghoſt of my father, he would have diſſuaded me from a crime that has proved my ruin, without doing him any good."’ He con⯑cludes with obſerving, that having acted by Apol⯑lo's command, Apollo is the only criminal. In a tragedy of Sophocles, Minerva makes no diffi⯑culty to cheat Ajax, by promiſing to be his friend, while underhand ſhe is ſerving Ulyſſes, his bitter enemy. Mercury, in revenge for the mur⯑der of his ſon Myrtilus, entails curſes on Pelops the murderer, and on all his race*. In general, the gods, every where in Greek tragedies, are partial, unjuſt, tyrannical, and revengeful. The Greeks accordingly have no reſerve in maltreat⯑ing their gods. In the tragedy of Prometheus, Jupiter, without the leaſt ceremony, is accuſed of being an uſurper. Eſchylus proclaims pub⯑licly on the ſtage, that Jupiter, a jealous, cruel, and implacable tyrant, had overturned every thing in heaven; and that the other gods were reduced to be his ſlaves. In the Iliad, book 13. Mene⯑laus addreſſes Jupiter in the following words: ‘"O father Jove! in wiſdom, they ſay, thou excelleſt both men and gods. Yet all theſe [146] ills proceed from thee; for the wicked thou doſt aid in war. Thou art a friend to the Trojans, whoſe ſouls delight in force, who are never glutted with blood."’ The gods were often treated with a ſort of contemptuous fami⯑liarity, and employed in very low offices. No⯑thing is more common, than to introduce them as actors in Greek tragedies; frequently for tri⯑vial purpoſes: Apollo comes upon the ſtage moſt courteouſly to acquaint the audience with the ſubject of the play. Why is this not urged by our critics, as claſſical authority againſt the rule of Horace, Nec deus interſit niſi dignus vindice no⯑dus *. Homer makes very uſeful ſervants of his gods. Minerva, in particular, is a faithful at⯑tendant upon Ulyſſes. She acts the herald, and calls the chiefs to councila. She marks the place where a great ſtone fell that was thrown by Ulyſſesb. She aſſiſts Ulyſſes to hide his trea⯑ſure in a cavec, and helps him to wreſtle with a beggard. Ulyſſes being toſſed with cares in bed, ſhe deſcends from heaven to make him fall aſleepe. This laſt might poſſibly be ſqueezed into an allegory, if Minerva were not frequently introduced where there is no place for an alle⯑gory. [147] Jupiter, book 17. of the Iliad, is intro⯑duced comforting the ſteeds of Achilles for the death of Patroclus. It appears from Ciceroa, that when Greek philoſophers began to reaſon about the deity, their notions were wonderfully crude. One of the hardeſt morſels to digeſt in Plato's philoſophy, was his doctrine, That God is incorporeal; which by many was thought ab⯑ſurd, for that, without a body, he could not have ſenſes, nor prudence, nor pleaſure. The religious creed of the Romans ſeems to have been little leſs impure than that of the Greeks. It was a ceremony of theirs, in beſieging a town, to evocate the tutelar deity, and to tempt him by a reward to betray his friends and votaries. In that ceremony, the name of the tutelar deity was thought of importance; and for that reaſon, the tutelar deity of Rome was a profound ſe⯑cret*. Appian of Alexandria, in his book of [148] the Parthian war, reports, that Antony, redu⯑ced to extremity by the Parthians, lifted up his eyes to heaven, and beſought the gods, that if any of them were jealous of his former happi⯑neſs, they would pour their vengeance upon his head alone, and ſuffer his army to eſcape. The ſtory of Paris and the three goddeſſes gives no favourable impreſſion, either of the morals or re⯑ligion of the Romans. Juno and her two ſiſter⯑deities ſubmit their diſpute about beauty to the [149] ſhepherd Paris, who conſcientiouſly pronounces in favour of Venus. But
Juno, not ſatisfied with wreaking her malice againſt the honeſt ſhepherd, declares war againſt his whole nation. Not even Eneas, though a fu⯑gitive in foreign lands, eſcapes her fury. Their great god Jupiter is introduced on the ſtage by Plautus, to deceive Alcmena, and to lie with her in the ſhape of her huſband. Nay, it was the opinion of the Romans, that this play made much for the honour of Jupiter; for in times of national troubles and calamities, it was common⯑ly acted to appeaſe his anger;—a moſt preg⯑nant inſtance of the groſs conceptions of that warlike people in morality, as well as in religion.
A diviſion of inviſible beings into benevolent and malevolent, without any mixture of theſe qualities, makes the fourth ſtage. The talents and feelings of men, refine gradually under good government: ſocial amuſements begin to make a figure: benevolence is highly regarded; and ſome men are found without gall. Having thus acqui⯑red a notion of pure benevolence, and finding it exemplified in ſome perſons, it was an eaſy ſtep in the progreſs of theological opinions, to beſtow the ſame character upon ſome ſuperior beings. This led men to diſtinguiſh their gods into two kinds, eſſentially different; one entirely benevo⯑lent, another entirely malevolent; and the diffe⯑rence between good and ill, which are diametri⯑cally oppoſite, favoured that diſtinction. For⯑tunate events out of the common courſe of na⯑ture, were accordingly aſcribed to benevolent de⯑ities; and unfortunate events of that kind, to [150] malevolent. In the time of Pliny the elder, ma⯑levolent deities were worſhipped at Rome. He mentions a temple dedicated to Bad Fortune, ano⯑ther to the diſeaſe termed a Fever. The Lace⯑demonians worſhipped Death and Fear, and the people of Cadiz Poverty and Old Age; in order to deprecate their wrath. Such gods were by the Romans termed Averrunci, as putting away evil.
Conviction of one ſupreme benevolent Deity, and of inferior deities, ſome benevolent, ſome malevolent, is the fifth ſtage. Such conviction, which gains ground in proportion as morality ri⯑pens, ariſes from a remarkable difference be⯑tween gratitude and fear. Willing to ſhow my gratitude for ſome kindneſs proceeding from an unknown hand, ſeveral perſons occur to my con⯑jectures; but I always fix at laſt upon one perſon as the moſt likely. Fear is of an oppoſite nature: it expands itſelf upon every ſuſpicious perſon, and blackens them all equally. Thus, upon pro⯑vidential good fortune above the power of man, we naturally reſt upon one benevolent Deity as the cauſe; and to him we confine our gratitude and veneration. When, on the other hand, we are ſtruck with an uncommon calamity, every thing that poſſibly may be the cauſe, raiſes terror in us. Hence the propenſity in ſavages to multi⯑ply objects of fear; but to confine their grati⯑tude and veneration to a ſingle object. Grati⯑tude and veneration, at the ſame time, are of ſuch a nature, as to raiſe a high opinion of the perſon who is their object; and when a ſingle in⯑viſible being is underſtood to pour out bleſſings with a liberal hand, good men, inflamed with gratitude, put no bounds to the power and bene⯑volence of that being. And thus one ſupreme benevolent Deity comes to be recogniſed among the more enlightened ſavages. With reſpect to [151] malevolent deities, as they are ſuppoſed to be numerous, and as there is no natural impulſe for elevating one above the another, they are all of them held to be of an inferior rank, ſubordinate to the ſupreme Deity.
Unity in the ſupreme being hath, among phi⯑loſophers, a more ſolid foundation, viz. unity of deſign and of order in the creation and govern⯑ment of this world*. At the ſame time, the paſ⯑ſion of gratitude, which leads even ſavages to the attribute of unity in the ſupreme being, prepares the mind for reliſhing the proof of that unity, [...]ounded on the unity of his works.
The belief of one ſupreme benevolent Deity, and of ſubordinate deities benevolent and male⯑volent, is and has been more univerſal than any other religious creed. I confine myſelf to a few inſtances; for a complete enumeration would be endleſs. The different ſavage tribes in Dutch Guiana, agree pretty much in their articles of faith. They hold the exiſtence of one ſupreme Deity, whoſe chief attribute is benevolence; and to him they aſcribe every good that happens. But as it is againſt his nature to do ill, they be⯑lieve in ſubordinate malevolent beings, like our devil, who occaſion thunder, hurricanes, earth⯑quakes, and who are the authors of death, diſ⯑eaſes, [152] and of every misfortune. To theſe de⯑vils termed in their language Yowahoos, they di⯑rect every ſupplication, in order to avert their malevolence; while the ſupreme Deity is entire⯑ly neglected: ſo much more powerful among ſa⯑vageſ, is fear than gratitude. The North-Ame⯑rican ſavages have all of them a notion of a ſu⯑preme Deity, creator and governor of the world, and of inferior deities, ſome good, ſome ill. Theſe are ſuppoſed to have bodies, and to live much as men do, but without being ſubjected to any diſtreſs. The ſame creed prevails among the negroes of Benin and Congo, among the people of New Zeland, among the inhabitants of Java, of Madagaſcar, of the Molucca iſlands, and of the Caribbee iſlands. The Chinguleſe, a tribe in the iſland of Ceylon, acknowledge one God creator of the univerſe, with ſubordinate deities who act as his deputies: agriculture is the pecu⯑liar province of one, navigation of another. The creed of the Tonquineſe is nearly the ſame. The inhabitants of Otaheite, termed King George's iſland, believe in one ſupreme Deity; and in inferior deities without end, who preſide over particular parts of the creation. They pay no adoration to the ſupreme Deity, thinking him too far elevated above his creatures to concern himſelf with what they do. They believe the ſtars to be children of the ſun and moon, and an eclipſe to be the time of copulation. According to Arnobius, certain Roman deities preſided over the various operations of men. Venus preſided over carnal copulation; Puta aſſiſted at pruning trees; and Peta in requeſting benefits; Nemeſ⯑trinus was god of the woods, Nodutus ripened corn, and Terenſis helped to threſh it; Vibilia aſſiſted travellers; orphans were under the care of Orbona, and dying perſons, of Naenia; Oſſi⯑lago [153] hardened the bones of infants; and Mellonia protected bees, and beſtowed ſweetneſs on their honey. The inhabitants of the iſland of Formo⯑ſa recogniſe two deities in company; the one a male, god of the men, the other a female god⯑deſs of the women. The bulk of their inferior deities are the ſouls of upright men, who are con⯑ſtantly doing good, and the ſouls of wicked men, who are conſtantly doing ill. The inland negroes acknowledge one ſupreme being, creator of all things; attributing to him infinite power, infinite knowledge, and ubiquity. They believe that the dead are converted into ſpirits, termed by them Iananini, or protectors, being appointed to guard their parents and relations. The ancient Goths, and ſeveral other northern nations, ac⯑knowledged one ſupreme being; and at the ſame time worſhipped three ſubordinate deities; Thor, reputed the ſame with Jupiter; Oden, or Woden, the ſame with Mars; and Friga, the ſame with Venus*. Socrates, taking the cup of poiſon from the executioner, held it up toward heaven, and pouring out ſome of it as an oblation to the ſu⯑preme Deity, pronounced the following prayer: ‘"I implore the immortal God that my tranſlati⯑on hence may be happy."’ Then turning to Crito, ſaid, ‘"O Crito! I owe a cock to Eſcu⯑lapius, pay it."’ From this incident we find that Socrates, ſoaring above his countrymen, had attained to the belief of a ſupreme benevolent Deity. But in that dark age of religion, ſuch purity is not to be expected from Socrates him⯑ſelf, [154] as to have rejected ſubordinate deities, even of the mercenary kind.
Different offices being aſſigned to the gods, as above mentioned, proper names followed of courſe. And when a god was aſcertained by a name, the buſy mind would naturally proceed to trace his genealogy.
As unity in the Deity was not an eſtabliſhed doctrine in the countries where the Chriſtian re⯑ligion was firſt promulgated, Chriſtianity could not fail to prevail over Paganiſm; for improve⯑ments in the mental faculties lead by ſure ſteps, though ſlow, to one God.
The ſixth ſtage is, the belief of one ſupreme benevolent Deity, as in that immediately forego⯑ing, with many inferior benevolent deities, and one only who is malevolent. As men improve in natural knowledge, and become ſkilful in tra⯑cing cauſes from effects, they find much leſs ma⯑lice and ill-deſign than was imagined: humanity at laſt prevails, which, in connection with im⯑proved knowledge, baniſhes the ſuſpicion of ill-deſign, in every caſe where an event can poſſibly be explained without it. In a word, a ſettled opinion of good prevailing in the world, produ⯑ced conviction among ſome nations, leſs ignorant than their neighbours, and leſs brutal, that there is but one malevolent ſubordinate deity, and good ſubordinate deities without number. The anci⯑ent Perſians acknowledged two principles; one all good and all powerful, named Hormuz, and by the Greeks corruptly Oromazes; the other evil, named Ahariman, and by the Greeks Ari⯑manes. Some authors aſſert, that the Perſians held theſe two principles to be coeternal: others, that Oromazes firſt ſubſiſted alone, that he crea⯑ted both light and darkneſs, and that he created Arimanes out of darkneſs. That the latter was [155] the opinion of the ancient Perſians, appears from their Bible, termed the Sadder; which teaches, That there is one God ſupreme over all, many good angels, and but one evil ſpirit. Plutarch acquaints us, that Hormuz and Ahariman, for ever at variance, formed, each of them, crea⯑tures of their own ſtamp; that the former creat⯑ed good genii, ſuch as goodneſs, truth, wiſdom, juſtice; and that the latter created evil genii, ſuch as infidelity, falſehood, oppreſſion, theft. This ſyſtem of theology, commonly termed the Manichean ſyſtem, is ſaid to be alſo the religious creed of Pegu, with the following addition, that the evil principle only is to be worſhiped; which is abundantly probable, as fear is a predominant paſſion in barbarians. The people of Florida be⯑lieve a ſupreme benevolent Deity, and a ſubordi⯑nate deity that is malevolent: neglecting the for⯑mer, who, they ſay, does no harm, they bend their whole attention to ſoften the latter, who, they ſay, torments them day and night. The in⯑habitants of Darian acknowledge but one evil ſpi⯑rit, of whom they are deſperately afraid. The Hottentots, mentioned by ſome writers as altoge⯑ther deſtitute of religion, are, on the contrary, farther advanced toward its purity, than ſome of their neighbours. Their creed is, That there is a ſupreme being, who is goodneſs itſelf; of whom they have no occaſion to ſtand in awe, as he is incapable by his nature to hurt them; that there is alſo a malevolent ſpirit, ſubordinate to the former, who muſt be ſerved and worſhipped in order to avert his malice. The epicurean doc⯑trine with reſpect to the gods in general, That being happy in themſelves, they extend not their providential care to men, differs not widely from what the Hottentot believes with reſpect to the ſupreme being.
[156] Having traced the ſenſe of deity, from its dawn in the groſſeſt ſavages, to its approaching maturity among enlightened nations, we proceed to the laſt ſtage of the progreſs, which makes the true ſyſtem of theology; and that is, con⯑viction of a ſupreme being, boundleſs in every perfection, without any ſubordinate deities, be⯑nevolent or malevolent. Savages learn early to trace the chain of cauſes and effects, with reſ⯑pect to ordinary events: they know that faſting produces hunger, that labour occaſions wearineſs, that fire burns, that the ſun and rain contribute to vegetation. But when they go beyond ſuch familiar events, they loſe ſight of cauſe and ef⯑fect: the changes of weather, of winds, of heat and cold, impreſs them with a notion of chance: earthquakes, hurricanes, ſtorms of thunder and lightning, which fill them with terror, are aſ⯑cribed to malignant beings of greater power than man. In the progreſs of knowledge, light be⯑gins to break in upon them: they diſcover, that ſuch phenomena, however tremendous, come under the general law of cauſe and effect, and that there is no ground for aſcribing them to malignant ſpirits. At the ſame time, our more refined ſenſes ripen by degrees: ſocial affections come to prevail; and morality makes a deep im⯑preſſion. In maturity of ſenſe and underſtand⯑ing, benevolence appears more and more; and beautiful final cauſes are diſcovered in many of nature's productions, that formerly were thought uſeleſs, or perhaps deſtructive: and the time may come, we have ſolid ground to hope that it will come, when doubts and difficulties about the government of Providence, will all of them be cleared up; and every event be found condu⯑cive to the general good. Such views of Provi⯑dence baniſh malevolent deities; and we ſettle at [157] laſt in a moſt comfortable opinion; either that there are no ſuch beings; or that, if they exiſt and are permitted to perpetrate any miſchief, it is in order to produce greater good. Thus, through a long maze of errors, man arrives at true religion, acknowledging but one Being, ſu⯑preme in power, intelligence, and benevolence, who created all other beings, to whom all other beings are ſubjected, and who directs every e⯑vent to anſwer the beſt purpoſes. This ſyſtem is true theology*.
Having gone through the different ſtages of re⯑ligious belief, in its gradual progreſs toward truth and purity, I proceed to a very important article, viz. The hiſtory of tutelar deities. The belief of tutelar deities preceded indeed ſeveral of the ſtages mentioned, witneſs the tutelar deities of Greece and Rome; but as it is not connected with any one of them excluſive of the reſt, the clearneſs of method required it to be poſtponed to all of them. This belief, founded on ſelfiſhneſs, made a rapid progreſs after property in the goods of fortune was eſtabliſhed. The Greeks, the Ro⯑mans, and indeed moſt nations that were not mere ſavages, appropriated to themſelves tutelar deities, who were underſtood to befriend them upon all occaſions; and, in particular, to fight for them againſt their enemies. The Iliad of Homer is full of miraculous battles between the Greeks and Trojans, the tutelar deities mixing with the contending parties, and partaking of every diſ⯑aſter, death only excepted, which immortals could [158] not ſuffer. The lares, penates, or houſehold⯑gods, of Indoſtan, of Greece, and of Rome, bear witneſs, that every family, perhaps every perſon, was thought to be under the protection of a tute⯑lar deity. Alexander ab Alexandro gives a liſt of tutelar deities. Apollo and Minerva were the tutelar deities of Athens; Bacchus and Hercules of the Boeotian Thebes; Juno of Carthage, Samos, Sparta, Argos, and Mycené; Venus of Cyprus; Apollo of Rhodes, and of Delphos; Vulcan of Lemons; Bacchus of Naxus; Nep⯑tune of Tenedos, &c. The poets teſtify, that even individuals had tutelar deities:
Though the North-American ſavages recogniſe a ſupreme Being, wiſe and benevolent, and alſo ſub⯑ordinate benevolent beings who are intruſted with the government of the world; yet as the great diſtance of theſe ſubordinate beings, and the full occupation they have in general government, are ſuppoſed to make them overlook individuals, eve⯑ry [159] man has a tutelar deity of his own termed Manitou, who is conſtantly invoked during war to give him victory over his enemies. The Natches, bordering on the Miſſiſippi, offer up the ſkulls of their enemies to their god, and depoſite them in his temple. They conſider that being as their tutelar deity who aſſiſts them againſt their ene⯑mies, and to whom therefore the ſkull of an enemy muſt be an acceptable offering. Though they worſhip the ſun, who impartially ſhines on all mankind; yet ſuch is their partiality, that they conſider themſelves as his choſen people, and that their enemies are his ene⯑mies.
A belief ſo abſurd ſhows woful imbecility in human nature. Is it not obvious, that the great God of heaven and earth, governs the world by inflexible laws, from whence he never can ſwerve in any caſe, becauſe they are the beſt poſſible in every caſe? To ſuppoſe any family or nation to be an object of his peculiar love, is no leſs impi⯑ous, than to ſuppoſe any family or nation to be an object of his peculiar hatred: they equally ar⯑raign Providence of partiality. Even the Goths had more juſt notions of the Deity. Totila, re⯑commending to his people juſtice and humanity, ſays, ‘"Quare ſic habete, ea quae amari ab hominibus ſolent ita vobis ſalva fore, ſi juſtitiae reverentiam ſervaveritis. Si tranſitis in mores alios, etiam Deum ad hoſtes tranſiturum. Neque enim ille, aut omnibus omnino homi⯑nibus, aut uni alicui genti, addicit ſe ſoci⯑um*."’
[160] That God was once the tutelar deity of the Jews, is true; but not in the vulgar acceptation of that term, importing a deity choſen by a peo⯑ple to be their patron and protector. The ortho⯑dox faith is, ‘"That God choſe the Jews as his peculiar people, not from any partiality to them, but that there might be one nation to keep alive the knowledge of one ſupreme Deity; which ſhould be proſperous while they adhered to him, and unproſperous when they declined to idolatry; not only in order to make them perſevere in the true faith, but alſo in order to exemplify to all nations the conduct of his Providence."’ It is certain, however, that the perverſe Jews claimed God Almighty as their tutelar deity, in the vulgar acceptation of the term. And this error throws light upon an inci⯑dent related in the Acts of the Apoſtles. There was a prophecy firmly believed by the Jews, that the Meſſiah would come among them in perſon to reſtore their kingdom. The Chriſtians gave a different ſenſe to the prophecy, viz. that the king⯑dom promiſed was not of this world. And they ſaid, that Chriſt was ſent to pave the way to their heavenly kingdom, by obtaining forgiveneſs of their ſins. At the ſame time, as the Jews held all other nations in abhorrence, it was natural for them to conclude, that the Meſſiah would be ſent to them only, God's choſen people; for which reaſon, even the apoſtles were at firſt doubtful [161] about preaching the goſpel to any but to the Jewsa. But the apoſtles reflecting, that it was one great purpoſe of the miſſion, to baniſh from the Jews their groveling and impure notion of a tutelar deity, and to proclaim a ſtate of future happineſs to all who believe in Chriſt, they pro⯑ceeded to preach the goſpel to all men: ‘"Then Peter opened his mouth, and ſaid, Of a truth I perceive, that God is no reſpecter of per⯑ſons: but in every nation, he that feareth him, and worketh righteouſneſs, is accepted with himb."’ The foregoing reaſoning, however, did not ſatisfy the Jews: they could not digeſt the opinion, that God ſent his Meſſiah to ſave all nations; and that he was the God of the Gentiles as well as of the Jews. They ſtormed againſt Paul in particular for inculcating that doc⯑trinec.
Conſidering that religion in its purity was eſtab⯑liſhed by the goſpel, is it not amazing, that even Chriſtians fell back to the worſhip of tutelar deities? They did not indeed adopt the abſurd opinion, that the ſupreme Being was their tutelar deity: but they held, that there are divine per⯑ſons ſubordinate to the Almighty, who take under their care nations, families, and even individuals; an opinion that differs not eſſentially from that of tutelar deities among the Heathens. That opini⯑on, which flatters ſelf-love, took root in the fifth century, when the deification of ſaints was intro⯑duced, [162] ſimilar to the deification of heroes among the ancients. With regard to matters ſpiritual, as well as temporal, people are fond of friends to be their interceſſors; and with regard to the Deity, deified ſaints were thought the propereſt inter⯑ceſſors. Temples were built and dedicated to them, and ſolemn rites of worſhip inſtituted to render them propitious. It was imagined, that the ſouls of deified ſaints are at liberty to roam where they liſt, and that they love the places where their bodies are interred; which accordingly made the ſepulchres of the ſaints a common ren⯑dezvous of ſupplicants. What paved the way to notions ſo abſurd, was the groſs ignorance that clouded the Chriſtian world after the northern barbarians became maſters of Europe. In the ſeventh century, the biſhops were ſo illiterate as to be indebted to others for the ſhallow ſermons they preached; and the very few of that order who had any learning, ſatisfied themſelves with com⯑poſing inſipid homilies, collected from the wri⯑tings of Auguſtin and Gregory. In the ninth century, matters grew worſe and worſe; for theſe ſaints, held at firſt to be mediators for Chriſtians in general, were now converted into tutelar deities in the ſtricteſt ſenſe. An opinion prevailed, that ſuch ſaints as are occupied about the ſouls of Chriſtians in general, have little time for indivi⯑duals; which led every church, and every pri⯑vate Chriſtian, to elect for themſelves a particular ſaint, as their peculiar patron or tutelar deity. That practice made it neceſſary to deify ſaints without end, in order to furniſh a tutelar deity to every individual. The dubbing of ſaints, became a new ſource of abuſes and frauds in the Chriſtian world: lying wonders were invented, and fabulous hiſtories compoſed, to celebrate exploits that never were performed, and to glorify perſons that never [163] had a being. And thus religion among Chriſtians, ſunk down into as low a ſtate as it had been among Pagans.
There ſtill remains upon hand a capital branch of our hiſtory; and that is idolatry, which pro⯑perly ſignifies the worſhipping viſible objects as deities. But as idolatry evidently ſprung from religious worſhip, corrupted by the igno⯑rant and brutiſh, it will make its appearance with more advantage in the next ſection, of which religious worſhip is the ſubject.
We have thus traced with wary ſteps, the gra⯑dual progreſs of theology through many ſtages, correſponding to the gradual openings and im⯑provements of the human mind. But though that progreſs in almoſt all countries appears uni⯑form with reſpect to the order of ſucceſſion, it is far otherwiſe with reſpect to the quickneſs of ſuc⯑ceſſion: nations, like individuals, make a pro⯑greſs from infancy to maturity; but they advance not with an equal pace, ſome making a rapid courſe toward perfection in knowledge and in re⯑ligion, while others remain ignorant barbarians. The religion of Hindoſtan, if we credit hiſtory or tradition, had advanced to a conſiderable de⯑gree of purity and refinement, at a very early pe⯑riod. The Hindoſtan Bible, termed Chatahbhade or Shaſtah, gives an account of the creation, lapſe of the angels, and creation of man; inſtructs us in the unity of the Deity, but denies his pre⯑ſcience as being inconſiſtent with free-will in man; all of them profound doctrines of an illu⯑minated people; to eſtabliſh which a long courſe of time muſt have been requiſite, after wandering through errors without number. Compared with the Hindows in theology, even the Greeks were mere ſavages. The Grecian gods were held to be little better than men, and their hiſtory, as [164] above mentioned, correſponds to the notion en⯑tertained of them.
In explaining the opinions of men with reſpect to Deity, I have confined my view to ſuch opi⯑nions as are ſuggeſted by principles or biaſſes that make a part of common nature; omitting many whimſical notions, no better than dreams of a roving imagination. The plan delineated ſhows wonderful uniformity in the progreſs of religion through all nations. That the whimſical notions mentioned are far otherwiſe, is not wonderful. Take the following ſpecimen. The Kamſkatkans are not ſo ſtupidly ignorant, as to be altogether void of curioſity. They ſometimes think of na⯑tural appearances.—Rain, ſay they, is ſome de⯑ity piſſing upon them; and they imagine the rain⯑bow to be a party-coloured garment, put on by him in preparing for that operation. They be⯑lieve wind to be produced by a god ſhaking his long hair about his head with violence. Such tales will ſcarce amuſe children in the nurſery. The inhabitants of the iſland Celebes formerly acknowledged no gods but the ſun and the moon, which were held to be eternal. Ambition for ſuperiority made them fall out. The moon being wounded in flying from the ſun, was delivered of the earth.
Hitherto of the gradual openings of the human mind with reſpect to Deity. I cloſe this ſection with an account of ſome unſound notions concern⯑ing the conduct of Providence, and concerning ſome ſpeculative matters. I begin with the for⯑mer.
In days of ignorance, the conduct of Providence is very little underſtood. Far from having any notion, than the government of this world is carried on by general laws, which are inflexible becauſe they are the beſt poſſible, every impor⯑tant [165] event is attributed to an immediate interpo⯑ſition of the Deity. As the Grecian gods were thought to have bodies like men, and like men to require nouriſhment; they were imagined to act like men, forming ſhort-ſighted plans of operati⯑on, and varying them from time to time according to exigencies. Even the wiſe Athenians, had an utter averſion for philoſophers who attempted to account for effects by general laws: ſuch doc⯑trine they thought tended to fetter the gods, and to prevent them from governing events at their pleaſure. An eclipſe being held to be a prognoſ⯑tic given by the gods of ſome grievous calamity, Anaxagoras was accuſed of Atheiſm for attempt⯑ing to explain the eclipſe of the moon by natural cauſes: he was thrown into priſon, and with dif⯑ficulty was relieved by the influence of Pericles. Protagoras was baniſhed Athens for maintaining the ſame doctrine. Procopius overflows with ſignal interpoſitions of Providence; and Agathias, beginning at the battle of Marathon, ſagely main⯑tains, that from that time downward, there was not a battle loſt, but by an immediate judgment of God, for the ſins of the commander, or of his army, or of one perſon or other. Our Savi⯑our's doctrine with reſpect to thoſe who ſuffered by the fall of the tower of Siloam, ought to have opened their eyes; but ſuperſtitious eyes are never opened by inſtruction. At the ſame time, it is deplorable that ſuch belief has no good in⯑fluence on manners: on the contrary, never doth wickedneſs ſo much abound as in dark times. A curious fact is related by Procopiusa with re⯑ſpect to that ſort of ſuperſtition. When Rome was beſieged by the Goths, and in danger of de⯑ſtruction, [166] a part of the town-wall, declining from the perpendicular, was in a tottering condi⯑tion. Beliſarius, propoſing to fortify it, was op⯑poſed by the citizens, affirming, that it was guarded by St. Peter. Procopius obſerves, that the event anſwered expectation; for that the Goths, during a tedious ſiege, never once at⯑tempted that weak part. He adds, that the wall remained in the ſame ruinous ſtate at the time of his writing. Here is a curious conceit:—Peter created a tutelar deity, able and willing, for the ſake of his votaries, to counteract the laws by which God governs the material world. And for what mighty benefit to them? Only to ſave them five or fifty pounds in rebuilding the crazy part of the wall.
It is no leſs inconſiſtent with the regular courſe of Providence, to believe, as many formerly did, that in all doubtful caſes the Almighty, when appealed to, never fails to interpoſe in fa⯑vour of the right ſide. The inhabitants of Con⯑ſtantinople, ann. 1284, being ſplit into parties about two contending patriarchs, the Emperor ordered a fire to be made in the church of St So⯑phia, and a memorial from each party to be thrown into it; never doubting, but that God would ſave from the flames the memorial of the party whoſe cauſe he eſpouſed. But, to the ut⯑ter aſtoniſhment of all beholders, the flames paid not the leaſt regard to either of the memorials. The ſame abſurd opinion gave birth to the trial by fire, by water, and by ſingular battle. And it is not a little remarkable, that ſuch trials were common among many nations that had no inter⯑courſe one with another: even the enlightened people of Indoſtan try crimes by dipping the hand of a ſuſpected perſon in boiling oil.—Such uni⯑formity is there with reſpect even to ſuperſtitious [167] opinions. Pope Gregory VII. inſiſting, that the Kings of Caſtile and Aragon ſhould lay aſide their Gothic liturgy for the Romiſh, the matter was put to trial by ſingular battle; and two champions were choſen, to declare by victory the opinion of God Almighty. The Emperor Otho I. obſerving the doctors to differ about a a point of law, viz. the right of repreſentation in land-eſtates, appointed a duel; and the right of repreſentation gained the victory. If any thing can render ſuch a doctrine palatable, it is the be⯑lieving in a tutelar deity, who with leſs abſurdity may interpoſe in behalf of a favourite opinion, or of a favourite people. Appian gravely reports, that when the city of Rhodes was beſieged by Mithridates, a ſtatue of the goddeſs Iſis was ſeen to dart flames of fire upon a bulky engine, raiſed by the beſiegers to overtop the wall.
Hiſtorians mention an incident that happened in the iſland Celebes, founded on a belief of the ſame kind with that above mentioned. About two centuries ago, ſome Chriſtian and ſome Ma⯑hometan miſſionaries made their way to that iſland. The chief king, ſtruck with the fear of hell taught by both, aſſembled a general council; and extending his hands toward heaven, addreſ⯑ſed the following prayer to the ſupreme being. ‘"Great God, from thee I demand nothing but juſtice, and to me thou oweſt it. Men of dif⯑ferent religions have come to this iſland, threatening eternal puniſhment to me and my people if we diſobey thy laws. What are thy laws? Speak, O my God, who art the au⯑thor of nature: thou knoweſt the bottom of our hearts, and that we can never intentionally diſobey thee. But if it be unworthy of thy eſſence to employ the language of men, I call upon my whole people, the ſun which gives [168] me light, the earth which bears me, the ſea which ſurrounds my empire, and upon thee thyſelf, to bear witneſs for me, that in the ſincerity of my heart I wiſh to know thy will; and this day I declare, that I will ac⯑knowledge as the depoſitaries of thy oracles, the firſt miniſters of either religion that ſhall land on this iſland."’
It is equally erroneous to believe, that certain ceremonies will protect one from miſchief. In the dark ages of Chriſtianity, the ſigning with the figure of a croſs, was held not only to be an antidote againſt the ſnares of malignant ſpirits, but to inſpire reſolution for ſupporting trials and calamities: for which reaſon no Chriſtian in thoſe days undertook any thing of moment, till he had uſed that ceremony. It was firmly believed in France, that a gold or ſilver coin of St Louis, hung from the neck, was a protection againſt all diſeaſes: and we find accordingly a hole in every remaining coin of that king, for fixing it to a ri⯑band. In the minority of Charles VIII. of France the three eſtates, ann. 1484, ſupplicated his Majeſty, that he would no longer defer the being anointed with the holy oil, as the favour of Hea⯑ven was viſibly connected with that ceremony. They affirmed, that his grandfather Charles VII. never proſpered till he was anointed; and that Heaven afterward fought on his ſide, till the En⯑gliſh were expelled out of his kingdom. The high altar of St Margaret's church in the iſland of Icolmkill, was covered with a plate of blue marble finely veined; which has ſuffered from a ſuperſtitious conceit, that the ſmalleſt bit of it will preſerve a ſhip from ſinking. It has accor⯑dingly been carried off piece-meal; and at pre⯑ſent there is ſcarce enough left-to make an experi⯑ment. In the Sadder, certain prayers are enjoin⯑ed [169] when one ſneezes or piſſes, in order to chaſe away the devil. Cart-wheels in Liſbon are compoſed of two boards clumſily cut in a cir⯑cular form, and nailed together. Though the noiſe is intolerable, yet the axles are never grea⯑ſed, becauſe the noiſe, ſay they, frightens the devil from hurting their oxen.
Nay, ſo far has ſuperſtition been carried, as to found a belief, that the devil by magic can control the courſe of Providence. A Greek bi⯑ſhop having dreamed, that a certain miracle had failed by magic, the ſuppoſed magician and his ſon were condemned to die, without the leaſt evi⯑dence but the dream. Monteſquieu collects a number of circumſtances, each of which, though all extremely improbable, ought to have been clearly made out, in order to prove the crimea. The Emperor Theodore Laſcaris, imagi⯑ning magic to be the cauſe of his diſtemper, put the perſons ſuſpected to the trial of holding a red-hot iron without being burnt. In the capi⯑tularies of Charlemagne, in the canons of ſeve⯑ral councils, and in the ancient laws of Norway puniſhments are enacted againſt thoſe who are ſuppoſed able to raiſe tempeſts, Tempeſtarii. During the time of Catharine de Medicis, in the court of France there was a jumble of politics, gallantry, luxury, debauchery, ſuperſtition, and Atheiſm. It was common to take the reſem⯑blance of enemies in wax, in order to torment them by roaſting the figure at a ſlow fire, and pricking it with needles. If an enemy happened in one inſtance of a thouſand to pine and die, the charm was eſtabliſhed for ever. Sorcery and witchcraft were ſo univerſally believed in En⯑gland, [170] that in a preamble to a ſtatute of Henry VIII. ann. 1511, it is ſet forth, ‘"That ſmiths, weavers, and women, boldly take upon them great cures, in which they partly uſe ſorcery, and witchcraft."’ The firſt printers, who were Germans, having carried their books to Pa⯑ris for ſale, were condemned by the parliament to be burnt alive as ſorcerers; and did not eſcape puniſhment but by a precipitant flight. It had indeed much the appearance of ſorcery, that a man could write ſo many copies of a book, with⯑out the ſlighteſt variation.
There are many examples of extraordinary vir⯑tues being attributed to certain things, in them⯑ſelves of no ſignificancy. The Hungarians were poſſeſſed of a golden crown, ſent from heaven with the peculiar virtue, as they believed, of beſtow⯑ing upon the perſon who wore it, an undoubted title to be their king.
But the moſt extraordinary effort of abſurd ſu⯑perſtition, is a perſuaſion, that one may control the courſe of Providence, by making a down⯑right bargain with God Almighty to receive from him quid pro quo. A herd of Tartars in Siberia, named by the Ruſſians Baravinſkoi, have in every hut a wooden idol, termed in their language Shei⯑tan, about eighteen inches high, to which they addreſs their prayers for plenty of game in hunt⯑ing, promiſing to give it, if ſucceſsful, a new coat or a new bonnet: a ſort of bargain abun⯑dantly brutiſh; and yet more excuſable in mere ſavages, than what is made with the Virgin Ma⯑ry by enlightened Roman Catholics; who, upon condition of her relieving them from diſtreſs, promiſe her a waxen taper to burn on her altar. Philip II. of Spain made a vow, that, upon con⯑dition of gaining the battle of St Quintin, he would build the Monaſtery of Eſcurial; as if an [171] eſtabliſhment for ſome idle monks, could be a motive with the great God to vary the courſe of his Providence*. Beſide the abſurdity of think⯑ing that ſuch vows can have the effect to alter the eſtabliſhed laws of Providence, they betray a moſt contemptible notion of the Deity, as if his favours, like a horſe, or a cow, could be pur⯑chaſed with money.
But however looſe and disjointed, events ap⯑pear to the ignorant, when viewed as paſt, or as paſſing, future events take on a very differert appearance. The doctrine of prognoſtics is evidently founded upon a ſuppoſition, that fu⯑ture events are unalterably fixed; for otherwiſe that doctrine would appear abſurd, even to the moſt ignorant. There is no bias in human na⯑ture that has greater influence, than curioſity about futurity; which in dark ages governs with⯑out control: men with no leſs folly than induſtry have ranſacked the earth, the ſea, the air, and even the ſtars, for prognoſtics of future events. The Greeks had their oracles, the Romans their augurs, and all the world their omens. The Grecian oracles and Roman auguries are evi⯑dently built upon their belief of tutelar deities; and the numberleſs omens that influence weak people in every country, ſeem to reſt upon the [172] ſame foundation*. Ancient hiſtories are ſtuffed with omens, prodigies, and prognoſtics: Livy overflows with fooleries of that kind. Endleſs are the adverſe omens reported by Appian of Alexandria, that are ſaid to have given warn⯑ing of the defeat of Craſſus by the Parthians; and no fewer in number are thoſe which hap⯑pened at the death of the Emperor Hadrian, if we believe Spartianus. Lampridius, with great gravity, recites the omens which prognoſticated that Alexander Severus would be Emperor: he was born the ſame day on which Alexander the Great died: he was brought forth in a temple de⯑dicated to Alexander the Great: he was named Alexander; and an old woman gave to his mother, a pigeon's egg of a purple colour produced on his birth-day. A comet is an infallible prognoſtic of the death of a king. But of what king? Why, of the king who dies next. Suetonius, with the ſolem⯑nity of a pulpit-inſtructor, informs us, that the death of the Emperor Claudius was predicted by a comet; and of Tiberius, by the fall of a tower during an earthquake. Such opinions, which indeed have ſome foundation in our na⯑ture, take faſt hold of the mind, when envigo⯑rated by education and example. Even philo⯑ſophy is not ſufficient to eradicate them but by ſlow degrees: witneſs Tacitus, the moſt pro⯑found [173] of all hiſtorians, who cannot forbear to uſher in the death of the Emperor Otho, with a fooliſh account of a ſtrange unknown bird appear⯑ing at that time. He indeed, with decent reſerve, mentions it only as a fact reported by others; but from the warm ſtyle of his narrative it is evi⯑dent, that the ſtory had made an impreſſion up⯑on him. The ancient Germans drew many of their omens from horſes: ‘"Proprium gentis, equorum preſagia ac monitus experiri. Pub⯑lice aluntur iiſdem nemoribus ac lucis, can⯑dide, et nullo mortali opere contacti, quos preſſos ſacro curru, ſacerdos, ac rex, vel princeps civitatis, comitantur, hinnituſque ac fremitus obſervant. Nec ulli auſpicio major fides, non ſolum apud plebem, ſed apud pro⯑ceres, apud ſacerdotes* a."’ There is ſcarce a thing ſeen or imagined, but what the inhabitants of Madagaſcar conſider as a prognoſ⯑tic of ſome future event. The Hindows rely on the augury of birds, preciſely as the old Romans did. Tho' there is not the ſlighteſt probability, that an impending misfortune was ever prevented by ſuch prognoſtics; yet the deſire of knowing [174] future events is ſo deeply rooted in our nature, that omens will always prevail among the vul⯑gar, in ſpight of the cleareſt light of philoſo⯑phy*.
With reſpect to prophecies in particular, one appology may be made for them, that no other prognoſtic of futurity is leſs apt to do miſchief. What Procopiusa obſerves of the Sybilline oracles, is equally applicable to prophecies in general, ‘"That it is above the ſagacity of man to explain any of them before the event hap⯑pen."’ After peruſing many, he gives the following reaſon, ‘"Matters are there handled,"’ ſays he, ‘"not in any order, nor in a continued diſcourſe: but after mentioning the diſtreſſes of Africa, for example, they give a ſlight touch at the Perſians, the Romans, the Aſſy⯑rians; then returning to the Romans, they fall ſlap-daſh upon the calamities of Britain."’ A curious example of this obſervation, is a book of prophecies compoſed in Scotland by Thomas Learmont, commonly called Thomas the Rhymer, becauſe the book is in rhyme. Plutarch, in the life of Cicero, reports, that a ſpectre appeared to Cicero's nurſe, and foretold, that the child would become a great ſupport to the Roman [175] ſtate; and moſt innocently he makes the follow⯑ing reflection: ‘"This might have paſſed for an idle tale, had not Cicero demonſtrated the truth of the prediction;"’ which in effect is ſaying, that if a prediction happen to prove ture, it is a real prophecy; if otherwiſe, that it is an idle tale. There have been prophecies not altogether ſo well guarded as the Sybilline oracles. Napier, inventor of the logarithms, found the day of judgment predicted in the Revelation; and named the very day; which unfortunately he ſurvived. He made another prediction, but prudently named a day ſo diſ⯑tant, as to be in no hazard of bluſhing a ſecond time. Michel Stifels, a German clergyman, ſpent moſt of his life in attempting to diſcover the day of judgment; and at laſt announced to his pariſhioners, that it would happen within a year. The pariſhioners, reſolving to make the beſt of a bad bargain, ſpent their time merrily, taking no care to lay up proviſions for another year; and ſo nice was their calculation, as at the end of the year to have not a morſel remain⯑ing, either of food or of induſtry. The famous Jurieu has ſhewn great ingenuity in explaining prophecies; of which take the following in⯑ſtance. In his book, intitled, Accompliſhment of the prophecies, he demonſtrates, that the beaſt in the Apocalypſe, which held the poculum aureum plenum abominationum *, is the Pope; and his reaſon is, that the initial letters of theſe four Latin words compoſe the word papa; a very ſingular prophecy indeed; that is a prophecy in Latin, but in no other language. The candid reader will advert, that ſuch prophecies as relate [170] to our Saviour, and tend to aſcertain the truth of his miſſion, fall not under the foregoing reaſon⯑ing; for they do not anticipate futurity, by producing foreknowledge of future events. They were not underſtood till our Saviour ap⯑peared among men; and then they were clearly underſtood as relative to him.
There is no end of ſuperſtition in its various modes. It was believed univerſally in dark times, that by certain forms and invocations, the ſpirits of the dead could be called upon to reveal future events. A lottery in Florence, gainful to the go⯑vernment, and ruinous to the people, gives great ſcope to ſuperſtition. The purchaſer of tickets, in order to be ſucceſsful, muſt faſt ſix and thirty hours, muſt repeat a certain number of Ave Ma⯑ries and Pater Noſters, muſt not ſpeak to a living creature, muſt not go to bed, muſt continue in prayer to the Virgin, and to ſaints, till ſome pro⯑pitious ſaint appear and declare the numbers that are to be ſucceſsful. The ticket-holder, fa⯑tigued with faſting, praying, and expectation, falls aſleep. Occupied with the thoughts he had when awake, he dreams that a ſaint appears, and mentions the numbers that are to be ſucceſs⯑ful. If he be diſappointed, he is vexed at his want of memory; but truſts in the ſaint as an infallible oracle. Again he buys tickets, again falls aſleep, again ſees a viſion, and again is diſ⯑appointed.
Lucky and unlucky days, which were ſo much relied on as even to be marked in the Greek and Roman calendars, make an appendix to prophe⯑cies. The Tartars never undertake any thing of moment on a Wedneſday, being held by them unlucky. The Nogayan Tartars hold every thir⯑teenth year to be unlucky: they will not even wear a ſword that year, believing that it would [177] be their death; and they maintain, that none of their warriors ever returned who went upon an expedition in one of theſe years. They paſs that time in faſting and prayer, and during it ne⯑ver marry. The inhabitants of Madagaſcar have days fortunate and unfortunate with reſpect to the birth of children: they deſtroy without mer⯑cy every child that is born on an unfortunate day.
I cloſe this important article with a reflection that ought to make an impreſſion upon every ra⯑tional mind. The knowledge of future events, as far as it tends to influence our conduct, is in⯑conſiſtent with a ſtate of trial, ſuch as Providence has allotted to man in this life. It would deprive him of hopes and fears, and leave him nothing to deliberate upon, nor any end to proſecute. In a word, it would put an end to his activity, and reduce him to be merely a paſſive being. Provi⯑dence therefore has wiſely drawn a veil over fu⯑ture events, affording us no light for prying into them but ſagacity and experience.
Theſe are a few of the numberleſs abſurd opi⯑nions about the conduct of Providence, that have prevailed among Chriſtians, and ſtill prevail a⯑mong ſome of them. Many opinions no leſs ab⯑ſurd have prevailed about ſpeculative points. I confine myſelf to one or two inſtances; for to make a complete liſt would require a volume. The firſt I ſhall mention, and the moſt noted, is tranſubſtantiation; which though it has not the leaſt influence on practice, is reckoned ſo eſſen⯑tial to ſalvation, as to be placed above every mo⯑ral duty. The following text is appealed to as the ſole foundation of that article of faith. ‘"And as they were eating, Jeſus took bread, and bleſſed it, and brake it, and gave it to the diſciples, and ſaid, Take, eat; this is my bo⯑dy. [178] And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, ſaying, Drink ye all of it: for this is my blood of the new teſtament, which is ſhed for many for the remiſſion of ſins. But I ſay unto you, I will not drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine, until that day when I drink it new with you in my Fa⯑ther's kingdoma."’ That this is a meta⯑phor, muſt ſtrike every one: the paſſage cannot even bear a literal meaning, conſidering the fi⯑nal clauſe; for ſurely the moſt zealous Roman believes not, that Chriſtians are to drink new wine with their Saviour in the kingdom of hea⯑ven. At the ſame time, it is not ſo much as in⯑ſinuated, that there was here any miraculous tran⯑ſubſtantiation of the bread and wine into the bo⯑dy and blood of our Saviour; nor is it inſinua⯑ted, that the apoſtles believed they were eating the ſleſh of their maſter, and drinking his blood. St. John, the favourite apoſtle, mentions not a word of this ceremony, which he certainly would not have omitted, had he imagined it an eſſential article of faith.
But ſuppoſing tranſubſtantiation to be more clearly expreſſed in this text, than it really is; yet men of good underſtanding will be loth to ad⯑mit a meaning that contradicts their five ſenſes. They will reflect, that no man now living ever ſaw the original books of the new teſtament; nor are they certain, that the editions we have, are copied directly from the originals. Every remove from them is liable to errors, which may juſtly create a ſuſpicion of every text that contradicts reaſon and common ſenſe. Add, that the bulk of Chriſtians have not even a copy from the ori⯑ginal [179] to build their faith upon, but only a tran⯑ſlation into another language.
And this leads to what chiefly determined me to ſelect that inſtance. God and nature have be⯑ſtowed upon us the faculty of reaſoning, for di⯑ſtinguiſhing truth from faſehood. If by reaſon⯑ing with candor and impartiality, we diſcover a propoſition to be true or falſe, it is not in our power to remain indifferent: we muſt judge, and according to our judgment we muſt pro⯑nounce. I ſay more, to pronounce is a duty we owe to our Maker; for to what purpoſe has he beſtowed reaſon upon us, but in order to direct our belief? At the ſame time, we may depend on it as an intuitive truth, that God will never impoſe any belief on us, contradictory not only to our reaſon, but to our ſenſes.
The following objection however will perhaps reliſh more with people of plain underſtanding. Tranſubſtantiation is a very extraordinary mi⯑racle, reiterated every day and in every corner of the earth, by prieſts not always remarkable either for piety or for morality. Now I demand an anſwer to the following plain queſtion: To what good end or purpoſe is ſuch a profuſion of miracles ſubſervient? I ſee none. But I diſco⯑ver a very bad one, if they have any influence; which is, that they accuſtom the Roman Catho⯑lics to more cruelty and barbarity, than even the groſſeſt ſavages are ever guilty of: ſome of them indeed devour the fleſh of their enemies; but none of them, the fleſh of their friends, eſpeci⯑ally their greateſt friend. But to do juſtice to people of that religion, I am confident, that this ſuppoſed miracle has no influence whatever upon their manners: to me it appears impoſſible for any man ſeriouſly to believe, that the bread and wine uſed at the Lord's ſupper, is actually con⯑verted [180] into the body and blood of our Saviour. The Romiſh church requires the belief of tran⯑ſubſtantiation; and a zealous Catholic, out of pure obedience, thinks he believes it. Convince once a man that ſalvation depends on belief, and he will believe any thing; that is, he will ima⯑gine that he believes: Credo quia impoſſibile eſt *.
That our firſt reformers, who were prone to differ from the Romiſh faith, ſhould adopt this doctrine, ſhows the ſupreme influence of ſuper⯑ſtition. The Lutherans had not even the excuſe of inattention: after ſerious examination, they added one abſurdity more; teaching, that the [181] bread and wine are converted into the body and blood of our Saviour, and yet remain bread and wine as at firſt; which is termed by them con⯑ſubſtantiation. I am perſuaded, that at this time not a ſingle man of them harbours ſuch a thought.
Many perſons, proof againſt a ſerious argu⯑ment, are ſufficiently clear-ſighted to diſcover falſehood when put in a ridiculous light. It re⯑quires, I am ſenſible, a very delicate hand to at⯑tack a grave ſubject with ridicule as a teſt of truth; and for that reaſon, I forbear to offer any thing of my own. But I will ſet before my readers ſome excerpts from a book of abſolute authority with Roman Catholics. Though tran⯑ſubſtantiation be there handled in the moſt ſeri⯑ous manner, with all the ceremonies and puncti⯑lios that naturally flow from it, yet to my taſte, nothing can be contrived to give it a more ridi⯑culous appearance. The book is the Roman Miſſal, from which the following is a literal tranſlation.
"Maſs may be deficient in the matter, in the form, in the miniſter, or in the action. Firſt, in the matter. If the bread be not of wheat, or if there be ſo great a mixture of other grain that it cannot be called wheat-bread, or if any way corrupted, it does not make a ſa⯑crament. If it be made with roſe-water, or any other diſtilled water, it is doubtful whe⯑ther it make a ſacrament or not. Though corruption have begun, or though it be lea⯑vened, it makes a ſacrament, but the celebra⯑tor ſins grievouſly."
"If the celebrator, before conſecration, ob⯑ſerve that the hoſt is corrupted, or is not of wheat, he muſt take another hoſt: if after conſecration, he muſt ſtill take another and [182] ſwallow it, after which he muſt alſo ſwallow the firſt, or give it to another, or preſerve it in ſome place with reverence. But if he have ſwallowed the firſt before obſerving its defects, he muſt nevertheleſs ſwallow alſo the perfect hoſt; becauſe the precept about the perfection of the ſacrament, is of greater weight than that of taking it faſting. If the conſecrated hoſt diſappear by an accident, as by wind, by a mi⯑racle, or by ſome animal, another muſt be con⯑ſecrated."
"If the wine be quite ſour or putrid, or made of unripe grapes, or be mixed with ſo much water as to ſpoil the wine, it is no ſacrament. If the wine have begun to ſour or to be cor⯑rupted, or be quite new, or not mixed with water, or mixed with roſe-water or other diſ⯑tilled water, it makes a ſacrament, but the ce⯑lebrator ſins grievouſly."
"If the prieſt, before conſecration, obſerve that the materials are not proper, he muſt ſtop, if proper materials cannot be got; but after conſecration, he muſt proceed, to avoid giv⯑ing ſcandal. If proper materials can be pro⯑cured by waiting, he muſt wait for them, that the ſacrifice may not remain imper⯑fect."
"Second, in form. If any of the words of conſecration be omitted, or any of them be changed into words of a different meaning, it is no ſacrament: if they be changed into words of the ſame meaning, it makes a ſacrament; but the celebrator ſins grievouſly."
"Third, in the miniſter. If he does not in⯑tend to make a ſacrament, but to cheat; if there be any part of the wine, or any water that he has not in his eye, and does not intend to conſecrate; if he have before him eleven [183] wafers, and intends to conſecrate only ten, not determining what ten he intends: in theſe caſes the conſecration does not hold, becauſe intenti⯑on is requiſite. If he think there are ten only, and intends to conſecrate all before him, they are all conſecrated; therefore prieſts ought al⯑ways to have ſuch intention. If the prieſt, thinking he has but one wafer, ſhall, after the conſecration, find two ſticking together, he muſt take them both. And he muſt take off all the remains of the conſecrated matter; for they all belong to the ſame ſacrifice. If in conſecrating, the intention be not actual by wandering of mind, but virtual in approaching the altar, it makes a ſacrament: though prieſts ſhould be careful to have intention both virtual and actual."
"Beſide intention, the prieſt may be deficient in diſpoſition of mind. If he be ſuſpended, or degraded, or excommunicated, or under mortal ſin, he makes a ſacrament, but ſins grievouſly. He may be deficient alſo in diſpoſition of body. If he have not faſted from midnight, if he have taſted water, or any other drink or meat, even in the way of medicine, he cannot celebrate nor communicate. If he have taken meat or drink before midnight, even though he have not ſlept nor digeſted it, he does not ſin. But on account of the perturbation of mind, which bars devotion, it is prudent to re⯑frain."
"If any remains of meat, ſticking in the mouth, be ſwallowed with the hoſt, they do not pre⯑vent communicating, provided they be ſwal⯑lowed, not as meat, but as ſpittle. The ſame is to be ſaid, if in waſhing the mouth a drop of water be ſwallowed, provided it be againſt our will."
[184] "Fourth, in the action. If any requiſite be wanting, it is no ſacrament; for example, if it be celebrated out of holy ground, or upon an altar not conſecrated, or not covered with three napkins; if there be no wax candles; if it be not celebrated between day-break and noon; if the celebrator have not ſaid mattins with lauds; if he omit any of the ſacerdotal robes; if theſe robes and the napkins be not bleſſed by a biſhop; if there be no clerk pre⯑ſent to ſerve, or one who ought not to ſerve, a woman for example; if there be no chalice, the cup of which is gold, or ſilver, or pewter; if the veſtment be not of clean linen adorned with ſilk in the middle, and bleſſed by a bi⯑ſhop; if the prieſt celebrate with his head co⯑vered; if there be no miſſal preſent, though he have it by heart."
"If a gnat or ſpider fall into the cup after conſecration, the prieſt muſt ſwallow it with the blood, if he can: otherwiſe, let him take it out, waſh it with wine, burn it, and throw it with the waſhings into holy ground. If poiſon fall into the cup, the blood muſt be poured on tow or on a linen cloth, remain till it be dry, then be burnt, and the aſhes be thrown upon holy ground. If the hoſt be poiſoned, it muſt be kept in a tabernacle till it be corrupted."
"If the blood freeze in winter, put warm cloths about the cup: if that be not ſufficient, the cup in boiling water."
"If any of Chriſt's blood fall on the ground by negligence, it muſt be licked up with the tongue, and the place ſcraped: the ſcrapings muſt be burnt, and the aſhes buried in holy ground."
[185] "If the prieſt vomit the euchariſt, and the ſpecies appear entire, it muſt be licked up moſt reverently. If a nauſea prevent that to be done, it muſt be kept till it be corrupted. If the ſpecies do not appear, let the vomit be burnt, and the aſhes thrown upon holy ground."
As the foregoing article has beyond intention ſwelled to an enormous ſize, I ſhall add but one other article, which, at the ſame time, ſhall be extremely ſhort; and that is the creed of Athana⯑ſius. It is a heap of unintelligible jargon; and yet we are appointed to believe every article of it, under the pain of eternal damnation. As it en⯑joins belief of rank contradictions, it ſeems pur⯑poſely calculated to be a teſt of ſlaviſh ſubmiſſion to the tyrannical authority of a proud and arrogant prieſt*.
CHAP. III.
RELIGIOUS WORSHIP.
IN the foregoing chapter are traced the gradual advances of the ſenſe of Deity, from its im⯑perfect ſtate among ſavages to its maturity among [186] enlightened nations, diſplaying to us one great being to whom all other beings owe their exiſ⯑tence, who made the world, and who governs it by the moſt perfect laws. And our perception of Deity, ariſing from that ſenſe, is fortified by an intuitive propoſition, that there neceſſarily muſt exiſt ſome being who had no beginning. Conſi⯑dering the Deity as the author of our exiſtence, we owe him gratitude; conſidering him as gover⯑nor of the world, we owe him obedience: and up⯑on theſe duties is founded the obligation we are under to worſhip him. Further, God made man for ſociety, and implanted in his nature the mo⯑ral ſenſe to direct his conduct in that ſtate. From theſe premiſes, may it not with certainly be infer⯑red to be the will of God, that men ſhould obey the dictates of the moral ſenſe in fulfilling every duty of juſtice and benevolence? Theſe moral duties, it would appear, are our chief buſineſs in this life; being enforced not only by a moral but by a religious principle.
Morality, as laid down in a former ſketch, con⯑ſiſts of two great branches, viz. the moral ſenſe, which unfolds our duty to man, and an active moral principle, which prompts us to perform that duty. Natural religion conſiſts alſo of two great branches, viz. the ſenſe of Deity, which unfolds our duty to our Maker, and the active principle of devotion, which prompts us to perform our duty to him. The univerſality of the ſenſe of Deity proves it to be innate: the ſame reaſon proves the principle of devotion to be innate; for all men agree in worſhipping ſuperior beings, whatever difference there may be in the mode of worſhip.
Both branches of the duty we owe to God, that of worſhipping him, and that of obeying his will with reſpect to our fellow-creatures, are [187] ſummed up by the Prophet Micah in the following emphatic words. ‘"He hath ſhewed thee, O man, what is good: and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do juſtly, to love mer⯑cy, and to walk humbly with thy God?"’ The two articles firſt mentioned, are moral duties re⯑garding our fellow-creatures; and as to ſuch, what is required of us by the Lord is to do our duty to others, not only as directed by the moral ſenſe, but as being the will of our Maker, to whom we owe abſolute obedience. That branch of our duty is reſerved for a ſecond ſection: at preſent we are to treat of religious worſhip, included in the third article, viz. the walking humbly with our God.
SECT. I.
Religious Worſhip.
THE obligation we are under to worſhip God, or to walk humbly with him, is, as obſerved above, founded on the two great princi⯑ples of gratitude and obedience; both of them re⯑quiring fundamentally a pure heart, and a well⯑diſpoſed mind. But heart-worſhip is alone not ſufficient: there are over and above required ex⯑ternal ſigns, teſtifying to others the ſenſe we have of theſe duties, and a firm reſolution to perform them. That ſuch is the will of God, will appear as follows. The principle of devotion, like moſt of our other principles, partakes of the imperfec⯑tion [188] of our nature: yet however faint originally, it is capable of being greatly invigorated by culti⯑vation and exerciſe. Private exerciſe is not ſuf⯑ficient. Nature, and conſequently the God of na⯑ture, require public exerciſe or public worſhip: for devotion is infectious, like joy or griefa; and by mutual communication in a numerous aſ⯑ſembly, is greatly invigorated. A regular habit of expreſſing publicly our gratitude and reſignation, never fails to purify the mind, tending to wean it from every unlawful purſuit. This is the true motive of public worſhip; not what is commonly inculcated, viz. That it is required from us, as a teſtimony to our Maker of our obedience to his laws: God, who knows the heart needs no ſuch teſtimony*. I ſhall only add upon the general [189] head, that lawgivers ought to avoid with caution the enforcing public worſhip by rewards and pu⯑niſhments: human laws cannot reach the heart, in which the eſſence of worſhip conſiſts: they may indeed bring on a liſtleſs habit of wor⯑ſhip, by ſeparating the external act from the internal affection, than which there can be nothing more hurtful to true religion. The utmoſt that can be ſafely ventured, is to bring public worſhip under cenſorian powers, as a matter of police, for preſerving good order, and for preventing bad example.
The religion of Confucius, profeſſed by the literati and perſons of rank in China and Ton⯑quin, conſiſts in a deep inward veneration for the God or King of heaven, and in the practice of every moral virtue. They have neither temples, nor prieſts, nor any ſettled form of external wor⯑ſhip: every one adores the ſupreme Being in the manner he himſelf thinks beſt. This is indeed the moſt refined ſyſtem of religion that ever took place among men. There is however an invin⯑cible objection againſt it, which is, that it is not fitted for the human race: an excellent religi⯑gion it would be for angels; but is far too refin⯑ed, even for ſages and philoſophers.
Proceeding to deviations from the genuine wor⯑ſhip required by our Maker, and groſs deviations there have been, I begin with that ſort of wor⯑ſhip which is influenced by fear, and which for that reaſon is univerſal among ſavages. The A⯑merican [190] ſavages believe, that there are inferior deities without end, moſt of them prone to miſ⯑chief: they neglect the ſupreme Deity becauſe he is good; and direct their worſhip to ſoothe the malevolent inferior deities from doing harm. The inhabitants of the Molucca iſlands, who be⯑lieve the exiſtence of malevolent inviſible beings ſubordinate to the ſupreme benevolent Being, confine their worſhip to the former, in order to avert their wrath; and one branch of their worſhip is, to ſet meat before them, hoping that when the belly is full, there will be leſs incli⯑nation to miſchief. The worſhip of the inhabi⯑tants of Java is much the ſame. The negroes of Benin worſhip the devil, as Dapper expreſſes it, and ſacrifice to him both men and beaſts. They acknowledge indeed a ſupreme Being, who crea⯑ted the univerſe, and governs it by his Provi⯑dence: but they regard him not; ‘"for,"’ ſay they, ‘"it is needleſs, if not impertinent, to in⯑voke a being, who, good and gracious, is in⯑capable of injuring or moleſting us."’
The auſterities and penances that are practiſed in almoſt all religions, ſpring from the ſame root. One way to pleaſe inviſible malignant powers, is to make ourſelves as miſerable as poſſible. Hence the horrid penances of the Faquirs in Hindoſtan, who outdo in mortification whatever is reported of the ancient Chriſtian anchorites. Some of theſe Faquirs continue for life in one poſture: ſome never lie down: ſome have always their arms raiſed above their head: and ſome mangle their bodies with knives and ſcourges. The town of Jagrenate in Hindoſtan is frequented by pil⯑grims, ſome of them from the diſtance of 300 leagues, which they travel, not by walking or riding, but by meaſuring the road by the length of their bodies; in which method of loco-moti⯑on, [191] ſome of them conſume years, before they complete their pilgrimage. A religious ſect made its way ſome centuries ago into Japan, termed Bubſdoiſts, from Bubs, the founder. This ſect has prevailed over the ancient ſect of the Sintos, chiefly by its auſterity and mortifications. The ſpirit of this ſect inſpires nothing but exceſſive fear of the gods, who are painted prone to ven⯑geance, and always offended. The people of that religion paſs moſt of their time in torment⯑ing themſelves, to expiate imaginary faults; and they are treated by their prieſts with deſpotiſm and cruelty, that is not paralleled but by the in⯑quiſitors of Spain. The manners of the people are fierce, cruel, and unrelenting, ſuch as never fail to be inſpired by horrible ſuperſtition. The notion of inviſible malevolent powers, formerly univerſal, is not to this hour eradicated, even among Chriſtians; for which I appeal to the faſtings and flagellations among Roman-Catholics, held by them to be an eſſential part of religion. People infected with religious horrors, are never ſeriouſly convinced, that an upright heart and ſound morality make the eſſence of religion. The doctrine of the Janſeniſts, concerning re⯑pentance and mortification, ſhows evidently, however they may deceive themſelves, that they have an impreſſion of the Deity as a malevolent being. They hold the guilt contracted by Adam's fall to be a heinous ſin, which ought to be expia⯑ted by acts of mortification, ſuch as the torturing and macerating the body with painful labour, ex⯑ceſſive abſtinence, continual prayer and contem⯑plation. Their penances, whether for original or voluntary ſin, are carried to extravagance; and they who put an end to their lives by ſuch ſeveri⯑ties, are termed the ſacred victims of repentance, conſumed by the fire of divine love. Such ſui⯑cides [192] are eſteemed peculiarly meritorious in the eye of Heaven; and it is thought, that their ſuf⯑ferings cannot fail to appeaſe the anger of the Deity. That celibacy is a ſtate of purity and perfection, is a prevailing notion in many coun⯑tries: among the Pagans, a married man was forbid to approach the altar, for ſome days after knowing his wife; and this ridiculous notion of pollution, contributed to introduce celibacy among the Roman-Catholic prieſts. The Empe⯑ror Otho, anno 1218, became a ſignal penitent: but inſtead of atoning for his ſins by repentance and reſtitution, he laid himſelf down to be trod under foot by the boys of his kitchen; and fre⯑quently ſubmitted to the diſcipline of the whip, inflicted by monks. The Emperor Charles V. toward the end of his days, was ſorely depreſſed in ſpirit with fear of hell. Monks were his only companions, with whom he ſpent his time in chanting hymns. As an expiation for his ſins, he in private diſciplined himſelf with ſuch ſeveri⯑ty, that his whip, found after his death, was tinged with his blood. Nor was he ſatisfied with theſe acts of mortification: timorous and illiberal ſolicitude ſtill haunting him, he aimed at ſome⯑thing extraordinary, at ſome new and ſingular act of piety, to diſplay his zeal, and to merit the fa⯑vour of Heaven. The act he fixed on was as wild as any that ſuperſtition ever ſuggeſted to a diſtempered brain: it was to celebrate his own obſequies. He ordered his tomb to be erected in the chapel of the monaſtery: his domeſtics marched there in a funeral proceſſion, holding black tapers: he followed in his ſhroud: he was laid in his coffin with much ſolemnity: the ſer⯑vice of the dead was chanted; and he him⯑ſelf joined in the prayers offered up for his requiem, mingling his tears with thoſe of his at⯑tendants. [193] The ceremony cloſed with ſprinkling holy water upon the coffin; and the aſſiſtants re⯑retiring, the doors of the chapel were ſhut. Then Charles roſe out of the coffin, and ſtole privately to his apartment.
The hiſtory of ancient ſacrifices is not ſo accu⯑rate, as in every inſtance to aſcertain upon what principle they were founded, whether upon fear, upon gratitude for favours received, or to ſolicit future favour. Human ſacrifices undoubtedly belong to the preſent head: for being calculated to deprecate the wrath of a malevolent deity, they could have no other motive but fear; and indeed they are a moſt direful effect of that paſ⯑ſion. It is needleſs to loſe time in mentioning in⯑ſtances, which are well known to thoſe who are acquainted with ancient hiſtory. A number of them are collected in Hiſtorical Law-tractsa: and to theſe I take the liberty of adding, that the Cimbrians, the Germans, the Gauls, particularly the Druids, practiſed human ſacrifices; for which we have the authority of Julius Caeſar, Strabo, and other authors. A people upon the Miſſiſippi, named Tenſas, worſhip the ſun; and, like the Natches their neighbours, have a temple for that luminary, with a ſacred fire in it, conti⯑nually burning. The temple having been ſet on fire by thunder, was all in flames, when ſome French travellers ſaw them throw children into the fire, one after another, to appeaſe the incenſed deity. The Prophet Micahb, in a paſſage partly quoted above, inveighs bitterly againſt ſuch ſacrifices: ‘"Wherewith ſhall I come before [194] the Lord, and bow myſelf before the high God? ſhall I come before him with burnt⯑offerings, with calves of a year old? will the Lord be pleaſed with thouſands of rams, or with ten thouſands of rivers of oil? ſhall I give my firſt-born for my tranſgreſſion, the fruit of my body for the ſin of my ſoul? He hath ſhewed thee, O man, what is good: and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do juſtly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?"’
The ancient Perſians acknowledged Oromazes and Arimanes as their great deities, authors of good and ill to men. But I find not that Ari⯑manes, the evil principle, was ever an object of any religious worſhip. The Gaures, who pro⯑feſs the ancient religion of Perſia, addreſs no wor⯑ſhip but to one God, all-good and all-powerful.
Next, of worſhipping the Deity in the charac⯑ter of a mercenary being. Under that head come ſacrifices and oblations, whether prompted by gratitude for favours received, or by ſelf-intereſt to procure future favours; which, for the reaſon mentioned, I ſhall not attempt to diſtinguiſh. As the deities of early times were thought to reſem⯑ble men, it is not wonderful, that men endea⯑voured to conciliate their favour, with ſuch offe⯑rings as were the moſt acceptable to themſelves. It is probable, that the firſt ſacrifices of that kind were of ſweet-ſmelling herbs, which in the fire emitted a flavour, that might reach the noſtrils of a deity, even at a diſtance. The burning in⯑cenſe to their gods, was practiſed in Mexico and Peru; and at preſent is practiſed in the pe⯑ninſula of Corea. An opportunity ſo favourable for making religious zeal a fund of riches to the prieſthood, is ſeldom neglected. There was no difficulty to perſuade ignorant people, that the [195] gods could eat as well as ſmell: what was offered to a deity for food, being carried into the temple was underſtood to be devoured by him.
With reſpect to the Jewiſh ſacrifices of burnt-offerings, meat-offerings, ſin-offerings, peace-offerings, heave-offerings, and wave-offerings, theſe were appointed by God himſelf, in order to keep that ſtiff-necked people in daily remem⯑brance of their dependence on him, and to pre⯑ſerve them if poſſible from idolatry. But that untractable race did not adhere to the purity of the inſtitution: they inſenſibly degenerated into the notion that their God was a mercenary being; and in that character only, was the worſhip of ſacrifices performed to him: the offerings menti⯑oned were liberally beſtowed on him, not ſingly as a token of their dependence, but chiefly in order to avert his wrath, or to gain his favour*.
The religious notions of the Greeks were equally impure: they could not think of any means for conciliating the favour of their gods, more efficacious than gifts. Homer paints his gods as mercenary to an extreme. In the fourth book of the Iliad, Jupiter ſays, ‘"Of theſe cities, honoured the moſt by the ſoul of Jove, is ſa⯑cred Troy. Never ſtands the altar empty be⯑fore me, oblations poured forth in my pre⯑ſence, ſavour that aſcends the ſkies."’ Speak⯑ing [196] in the fifth book of a warrior, known after⯑ward to be Diomedes, ‘"Some god he is, ſome power againſt the Trojans enraged for vows unpaid: deſtructive is the wrath of the gods."’ Diomedes prays to Minerva, ‘"With thine arm ward from me the foe: a year old heifer, O Queen, ſhall be thine, broad-fronted, unbro⯑ken, and wild: her to thee I will offer with prayer, gilding with gold her horns."’ Pre⯑ciſely of the ſame kind, are the offerings made by ſuperſtitious Roman Catholics to the Virgin Mary, and to ſaints. Electra, in the tragedy of that name, ſupplicates Apollo in the following terms.
The people of Hindoſtan, as mentioned above, atone for their ſins by auſtere penances; but they have no notion of preſenting gifts to the Deity, nor of deprecating his wrath with the blood of animals. On the contrary, they reckon it a ſin to ſlay any living creature; which reduces them to vegetable food. This is going too far; for the Deity could never mean to prohibit animal food, when man's chief dependence originally was upon it. The abſtaining, however, from animal food, ſhows greater humanity in the religion of Hindoſtan, than of any other known country. The inhabitants of Madagaſcar are in a ſtage of religion, common among many nations, which is, the acknowledging one ſupreme benevolent Deity, and many malevolent inferior deities. Moſt of their worſhip is indeed addreſſed to the [197] latter; but they have ſo far advanced before ſe⯑veral other nations, as to offer ſacrifices to the ſupreme Being, without employing either idols or temples.
Philoſophy and ſound ſenſe, in poliſhed nati⯑tions, have purified religious worſhip, by baniſh⯑ing the profeſſion at leaſt of oblations and ſacrifi⯑ces. The Being that made the world, governs it by laws that are inflexible, becauſe they are the beſt poſſible; and to imagine that he can be mo⯑ved by prayers, oblations, or ſacrifices, to vary his plan of government, is an impious thought, degrading the Deity to a level with ourſelves: ‘"Hear, O my people, and I will teſtify againſt thee: I am God, even thy God. I will take no bullock out of thy houſe, nor he-goat out of thy fold: for every beaſt of the foreſt is mine, and the cattle upon a thouſand hills. Will I eat the fleſh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats? Offer unto God thankſgiving, and pay thy vows to the Moſt High. Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou ſhalt glorify mea."’ ‘"Thou de⯑ſireſt not ſacrifice, elſe would I give it; thou delighteſt not in burnt-offering. The ſacrifices of God are a broken ſpirit: a broken and a con⯑trite heart, O God, thou wilt not deſpiſeb."’ ‘"For I deſired mercy, and not ſacrifice, and the knowledge of God, more than burnt-of-feringsc."’ In dark ages, there is great ſhew of religion, with little heart worſhip: in [198] ages of philoſophy, warm heart-worſhip, with little ſhew*.
[199] This is a proper place for the hiſtory of idola⯑try; which, as will anon appear, ſprung from religious worſhip, corrupted by men of ſhallow underſtanding and groſs conceptions, upon whom things inviſible make little impreſſion.
Savages, even of the loweſt claſs, have an impreſſion of inviſible powers, though they can⯑not form any diſtinct notion of them. But ſuch impreſſion is too faint for the exerciſe of devo⯑tion. Whether inſpired with love to a good be⯑ing, or with fear of an ill being, ſavages are not at eaſe without ſome ſort of viſible object to ani⯑mate them. A great ſtone ſerved that purpoſe originally; a very low inſtrument indeed of reli⯑gious worſhip; but not altogether whimſical, if it was introduced, which is highly probable, in the following manner. It was an early and a na⯑tural cuſtom among ſavages, to mark with a great ſtone, the place where their worthies were interred; of which we have hints every where in ancient hiſtory, particularly in the poems of Oſ⯑ſian. ‘"Place me,"’ ſays Calmar, mortally wounded, ‘"at the ſide of a ſtone of remem⯑brance, that future times may bear my ſame, and the mother of Calmar rejoice over the ſtone of my renown."’ Superſtition in later times having deified theſe worthies, their vota⯑ries, rejoicing as formerly over the ſtones dedi⯑cated to them, held theſe ſtones to be eſſential in every act of religious worſhip performed to [200] their new deities*. Tradition points out many ſtones in different parts of the world, that were uſed in religious worſhip. A large ſtone worſhip⯑ped by the Peſſenuntians, a people of Phrygia, under the name of Idaea mater, was, upon a ſo⯑lemn embaſſy to that people, brought to Rome; it being contained in the Sybilline books, that un⯑leſs the Romans got poſſeſſion of that goddeſs, they never would prevail over Hannibal. And Pauſanias mentions many ſtones in Greece, dedi⯑cated to different divinities; particularly thirty ſquare ſtones in Achaia, on which were engraved the names of as many gods. In another place, he mentions a very ancient ſtatue of Venus in the iſland Delos, which, inſtead of feet, had only a ſquare ſtone. This may appear a puzzling cir⯑cumſtance in the hiſtory of Greece, conſidering that all the Grecian gods were originally mortals, [201] whom it was eaſy to repreſent by ſtatues: but in that early period, the Greeks knew no more of ſtatuary than the moſt barbarous nations. It is perhaps not eaſy to gather the meaning of ſa⯑vages, with reſpect to ſuch ſtones: the moſt na⯑tural conjecture is, that a great ſtone, dedicated to the worſhip of a certain deity, was conſidered as belonging to him. This notion of property had a double effect: the worſhippers, by con⯑nection of ideas, were led from the ſtone to the deity: and the ſtone tended to fix their wander⯑ing thoughts. It was probably imagined, over and above, that ſome latent virtue communicated to the ſtone, made it holy or ſacred. Even a⯑mong enlightened people, a ſort of virtue or ſanctity is conceived to reſide in the place of worſhip: why not alſo in a ſtone dedicated to a deity? The ancient Ethiopians, in their wor⯑ſhip, introduced the figure of a ſerpent as a ſym⯑bol of the deity: two ſticks laid croſs repreſent⯑ed Caſtor and Pollux, Roman divinities: a jave⯑lin repreſented their god Mars; and in Tartary, formerly, the god of war was worſhipped under the ſymbol of an old ruſty ſabre. The ancient Perſians uſed conſecrated fire, as an emblem of the great God. Though the negroes of Congo and Angola have images without number, they are not however idolaters in any proper ſenſe: their belief is, that theſe images are only organs by which the deities ſignify their will to their vo⯑taries.
If the uſe that was made of ſtones and of other ſymbols in religious worſhip, be fairly repreſented, it may appear ſtrange, that the ingenious Greeks ſunk down into idolatry, at the very time they were making a rapid progreſs in the fine arts. Their improvements in ſtatuary, one of theſe arts, was the cauſe. They began with attempting to [202] carve heads of men and women, repreſenting their deified heroes; which were placed upon the ſtones dedicated to theſe divinities. In the progreſs of the art, ſtatues were executed complete in every member; and at laſt, ſtatues of the gods were made, expreſſing ſuch dignity and majeſty, as in⯑ſenſibly to draw from beholders a degree of devo⯑tion to the ſtatues themſelves. Hear Quintilian upon that ſubject. ‘"At quae Polycleto defue⯑runt, Phidiae atque Alcameni dantur. Phidias tamen diis quam hominibus efficiendis melior artifex traditur: in ebore vero, longe citra aemulum, vel ſi nihil niſi Minervam Athenis aut Olympium in Elide Jovem feciſſet, cujus pulchritudo adjeciſſe aliquid etiam receptae re⯑ligioni videtur; adeo majeſtas operis deum aequavit*."’ Here is laid a foundation for ido⯑latry: let us trace its progreſs. Such ſtatues as are repreſented by Quintilian, ſerve greatly to en⯑ſlame devotion; and during a warm fit of the religious paſſion, the repreſentation is loſt, and the ſtatue becomes a deity; preciſely as where King Lear is repreſented by Garrick: the actor vaniſhes; and, behold! the King himſelf. This is not ſingular. Anger occaſions a metamorphoſis ſtill more extraordinary: if I happen to ſtrike my gouty toe againſt a ſtone, the violence of the pain [203] converts the ſtone for a moment into a voluntary agent; and I wreak my reſentment on it, as if it really were ſo. It is true, the image is only con⯑ceived to be a deity during the fervour of devoti⯑on; and when that ſubſides, the image falls back to its original repreſentative ſtate. But frequent inſtances of that kind, have at laſt the effect among illiterate people, to convert the image into a ſort of permanent deity: what ſuch people ſee, makes a deep impreſſion; what they ſee not, little or none at all. There is another thing that concurs with eye-ſight, to promote this deluſion: devotion, being a vigorous principle in the human breaſt, will exert itſelf upon the meaneſt object, when none more noble is in view.
The ancient Perſians held the conſecrated fire to be an emblem only of the great God: but ſuch veneration was paid to that emblem, and with ſo great ceremony was it treated, that the vulgar came at laſt to worſhip it as a ſort of deity. The prieſts of the Gaures watch the conſecrated fire day and night: they keep it alive with the pureſt wood, without bark: they touch it not with ſword nor knife: they blow it not with bellows, nor with the mouth: even the prieſt is prohi⯑bited to approach it, till his mouth be covered with fine linen, leſt it be polluted with his breath: if it happen to go out, it muſt be re⯑kindled by ſtriking fire from flint, or by a burning glaſs.
The progreſs of idolatry will more clearly ap⯑pear, from attending to the religion of the Greeks and Romans. The Greeks, as mentioned above, made uſe of ſtones in divine worſhip, long before idolatry was introduced: and we learn from Var⯑ro, that for a hundred and ſeventy years after Numa, the Romans had no ſtatues nor images in their temples. After ſtatues of the gods came [204] in faſhion, they acquired by degrees more and more reſpect. The Greek and Roman writers, talk of divine virtue being communicated to ſta⯑tues; and ſome of the Roman writers talk famili⯑arly, of the numen of a deity reſiding in his ſtatue. Arnobius, in his book againſt the Gentiles, intro⯑duces a Gentile delivering the following opinion. ‘"We do not believe, that the metal which com⯑poſes a ſtatue, whether gold, or ſilver, or braſs, is a god, But we believe, that a ſo⯑lemn dedication brings down the god to inha⯑bit his image; and it is the god only that we worſhip in that image."’ This explains the Roman ceremony, of inviting to their ſide the tutelar deities of towns beſieged by them, termed evacatio tutelarium deorum: the Romans, cruel as they were, overflowed with ſuperſtition; and as they were averſe from combating the tutelar dei⯑ties even of their enemies, they endeavoured to gain theſe deities by large promiſes, and aſſurance of honourable treatment. As they could not hope that a ſtatue would change its place, their notion muſt have been, that by this ceremony, the tute⯑lar deity might be prevailed upon to withdraw its numen, and leave the ſtatue a dead lump of matter. When Stilpo was baniſhed by the Areopagus of Athens for affirming, that the ſtatue in the tem⯑ple of Minerva was not the goddeſs, but a piece of matter carved by Phidias; he ſurely was not condemned for ſaying, that the ſtatue was made by Phidias, a fact univerſally known: his hereſy conſiſted in denying that the numen of Minerva re⯑ſided in the ſtatue. Auguſtus, having twice loſt his fleet by ſtorm, forbade Neptune to be carried in proceſſion along with the other gods; ima⯑gining he had avenged himſelf of Neptune, by neglecting the favourite ſtatue in which his numen reſided.
[205] When ſaints in the Chriſtian church were dei⯑fied, even their images became objects of wor⯑ſhip; from a fond imagination, that ſuch wor⯑ſhip draws down into the images, the ſouls of the ſaints they repreſent: which is the ſame doctrine that Arnobius, in the paſſage above mentioned, aſcribes to the Gentiles; and is not widely diffe⯑rent from the belief of the Pagan Tartars and Oſtiacs, by and by to be mentioned. In the ele⯑venth century, there was a violent diſpute about images in the Greek church; many aſſerting, that in the images of our Saviour and of the ſaints, there reſides an inherent ſanctity, which is a pro⯑per object of worſhip; and that Chriſtians ought not to confine their worſhip to the perſons re⯑preſented, but ought alſo to extend it to their images.
As ignorant and ſavage nations can form no conception of Deity, but of a being like a man, only ſuperior in power and greatneſs, images are made of the Deity in ſeveral nations conformable to this conception. It is eaſy to make ſome re⯑ſemblance of a man; but how is power and greatneſs to be repreſented? To perform this with propriety, would require a Hogarth. Savages go more bluntly to work: they endeavour to re⯑preſent a man with many heads, and with a ſtill greater number of hands. The northern Tartars ſeem to have no deities but certain ſtatues or ima⯑ges coarſely formed out of wood, and bearing ſome diſtant reſemblance to the human figure. To palliate ſo groſs an abſurdity, as that a god can be fabricated by the hands of man, they ima⯑gine this image to be endued with a ſoul: to ſay whence that ſoul came, would puzzle the wiſeſt of them. That ſoul is conceived to be too ele⯑vated for dwelling conſtantly in a piece of matter: they believe that it reſides in ſome more honou⯑rable [206] place; and that it only viſits the image or idol, when it is called down by prayers and ſup⯑plications. They ſacrifice to this idol, by rub⯑bing its mouth with the fat of fiſh, and by offer⯑ing it the warm blood of ſome beaſt killed in hunting. The laſt ſtep of the ceremony is, to honour the ſoul of the idol with a joyful ſhout, as a ſort of convoy to it when it returns home. The Oſtiacs have a wooden idol, termed, The Old Man of Oby, who is guardian of their fiſhery: it hath eyes of glaſs, and a head with ſhort horns. When the ice diſſolves, they crowd to this idol, requeſting that he will be propitious to their fi⯑ſhery. If unſucceſsful, he is loaded with re⯑proaches: if ſucceſsful, he is entitled to a ſhare of the capture. They make a feaſt for him, rubbing his ſnout with choice fat; and, when the entertainment is over, they accompany the ſoul of the idol a little way, beating the air with their cudgels. The Oſtiacs have another idol, that is fed with milk ſo abundantly, as to come out on both ſides of the ſpoon, and to fall down upon the veſture; which, however, is never waſhed, ſo little is cleanlineſs thought eſſential to religion by that people. It is indeed wonderfully abſurd, to think, that inviſible ſouls require food like hu⯑man creatures; and yet the ſame abſurdity pre⯑vailed in Greece.
The ancient Germans, a ſober and ſenſible people, had no notion of repreſenting their gods by ſtatues, nor of building temples to them. They worſhipped in conſecrated grovesa. The Egyptians, from a juſt conception that an inviſi⯑ble being can have no reſemblance to one that is [207] viſible, employed hieroglyphical figures for de⯑noting metaphorically the attributes of their gods; and they employed, not only the figures of birds and beaſts, but of vegetables; leeks, for example, and onions. This metaphorical adjunct to religi⯑on, innocent in itſelf, ſunk the Egyptians to the loweſt degree of idolatry. As hieroglyphical fi⯑gures, compoſed frequently of heterogeneous parts, reſemble not any being human or devine; the vulgar, loſing ſight of the emblematic ſignifi⯑cation, which is not readily underſtood but by poets and philoſophers, took up with the plain fi⯑gures as real divinities. How otherwiſe can it be accounted for, that the ox, the ape, the onion, were in Egypt worſhipped as deities? But this muſt be underſtood of the vulgar only. It is ſcarce ſuppoſable, that the better ſort of people could think ſo groſsly; and we have the authority of Plutarch for doubting. In his chapter upon Iſis and Oſiris, he obſerves, that the Egyptians worſhipped the bull, the cat, and other animals; not as divinities, but as repreſentatives of them, like an image ſeen in a glaſs; or, as he expreſſes it in another part of the ſame chapter, ‘"juſt as we ſee the reſemblance of the ſun in a drop of water."’ However this be, the Egyptian wor⯑ſhip is an illuſtrious inſtance of the influence of devotion: how powerful muſt it be in its purity, when even in a wrong direction, it can force its way againſt every obſtacle of common ſenſe! And ſuch reſpect was paid to theſe animals, if we can truſt Diodorus Siculus, that in a great famine, the Egyptians ventured not to touch the ſacred ani⯑mals, though they were forced to devour one an⯑other. The veneration paid to a cow in Hindoſtan aroſe probably from the ſame cauſe, viz. its hav⯑ing been uſed as a ſymbol of the Deity. A ſnake of a particular kind, about a yard long, and about [208] the thickneſs of a man's arm, is worſhipped by the Whidans in Guinea. It has a large round head, piercing eyes, a ſhort pointed tongue, and a ſmooth ſkin, beautifully ſpeckled. It has a ſtrong antipathy to all the venomous kind; in other re⯑ſpects, innocent and tame. To kill them being a capital crime, they travel about unmoleſted, even into bedchambers. They occaſioned, ann. 1697, a ridiculous perſecution. A hog, teaſed by one of them, gnaſhed it with his tuſks till it died. The prieſts carried their complaint to the king; and no one preſuming to appear as counſel for the hogs, orders were iſſued for ſlaughtering the whole race. At once were brandiſhed a thouſand cutlaſſes; and the race would have been extirpated, had not the king interpoſed, repreſenting to the prieſts, that they ought to reſt ſatisfied with the innocent blood they had ſpilt. Rancour and cruelty never rage more violently, than under the maſk of reli⯑gion.
It is amazing how prone the moſt poliſhed na⯑tions formerly were to idolatry. The Tyrians, beſieged by Alexander, chained down Hercules, their tutelar deity, to prevent him from deſerting to the enemy; which is ſaid to have been alſo practiſed in Sparta. The city of Ambracia being taken by the Romans, and every ſtatue of their gods being carried to Rome; the Ambracians complained bitterly, that not a ſingle divinity was left them to worſhip. How much more rational are the Hindoſtan bramins, who teach their diſ⯑ciples, that idols are emblems only of the Deity, intended merely to fix the attention of the po⯑pulace!
The firſt ſtatues in Greece and Tuſcany, were made with wings, to ſignify the ſwift motion of the gods. Theſe ſtatues were ſo clumſy, as [209] ſcarce to reſemble human creatures, not to talk of a divinity. But the admirable ſtatues exe⯑cuted in later times, were imagined to reſemble moſt accurately the deities repreſented by them: whence the vulgar notion, that gods have wings, and that angels have wings.
I proceed to what in the hiſtory of idolatry may be reckoned the ſecond part. Statues, we have ſeen, were at firſt uſed as repreſentatives only of the Deity; but came afterward to be metamorphoſed into divinities. The abſurdity did not ſtop there. People, not ſatisfied with the viſible deities erected in temples for public worſhip, became fond to have private de⯑ities of their own, whom they worſhipped as their tutelar deities; and this practice ſpread ſo wide, as that among many nations every family had houſehold gods cut in wood or ſtone. Eve⯑ry family in Kamſkatka has a tutelar deity in the ſhape of a pillar, with the head of a man, which is ſuppoſed to guard the houſe againſt malevolent ſpirits. They give it food daily, and anoint the head with the fat of fiſh. The Prophet Iſaiaha put this ſpecies of deification in a moſt ridi⯑culous light: ‘"He burneth part thereof in the fire: with part thereof he roaſteth fleſh: of the reſidue he maketh a god, even his graven image: he falleth down, worſhipping, and praying to it, and ſaith, Deliver me, for thou art my god."’ Multiplication could not fail to ſink houſehold-gods into a degree of contempt: expectation of good from them, might produce ſome cold ceremonial worſhip; but there could be no real devotion at heart. The Chineſe man⯑ner of treating their houſehold-gods, will vouch [210] for me. When a Chineſe does not obtain what he prays for, ‘"Thou ſpiritual dog,"’ he will ſay, ‘"I lodge thee well, thou art beaufully gild⯑ed, treated with perfumes and burnt-offer⯑ings; and yet thou with-holdeſt from me the neceſſaries of life."’ Sometimes they faſten a cord to the idol, and drag it through the dirt. The inhabitants of Ceylon treat their idols in the ſame manner. Thor, Woden, and Friga, were the great deities of the Scandinavians. They had at the ſame time inferior deities, who were ſup⯑poſed to have been men tranſlated into heaven for their good works. Theſe they treated with very little ceremony, refuſing to worſhip them if they were not propitious; and even puniſhing them with baniſhment; but reſtoring them after a time, in hopes of amendment. Domeſtic idols are treated by the Oſtiacs not more reverently than by the people mentioned. But they have public idols, ſome particularly of braſs, which are high⯑ly reverenced: the ſolidity of the metal is in their imagination connected with immortality; and great regard is paid to theſe idols, for the knowledge and experience they muſt have ac⯑quired in an endleſs courſe of time.
Saints, or tutelar deities, are ſometimes not better treated among Roman Catholics, than among Pagans. ‘"When we were in Portugal,"’ ſays Captain Brydone, ‘"the people of Caſtel⯑branco were ſo enraged at St Antonio, for ſuf⯑fering the Spaniards to plunder their town, contrary, as they affirmed, to his expreſs agreement with them, that they broke many of his ſtatues to pieces; and one that had been more revered than the reſt, they took the head off, and in its ſtead placed one of St Francis. The great St Januarius himſelf was in immi⯑nent danger, during the laſt famine at Naples. [211] They loaded him with abuſe and invective; and declared point-blank, that if he did not procure them corn by ſuch a time, he ſhould be no longer their ſaint."’ The tutelar ſaint of Cattania, at the foot of Mount Etna, is St Agatha. A torrent of lava burſt over the walls, and laid waſte great part of that beautiful city. Where was St Agatha at this time? The peo⯑ple ſay, that they had given her juſt provocation; but that ſhe has long ago been reconciled to them, and has promiſed never to ſuffer the lava to hurt them again. At the foot of Mount Etna, a ſta⯑tue of a ſaint is placed as a memorial, for having prevented the lava from running up the mountain of Taurominum, and deſtroying that town; the ſaint having conducted the lava down a low val⯑ley to the ſea.
When a traveller once happens to deviate from the right road, there is no end of wandering. Porphyrius reports, that in Anubis, an Egyptian city, a real man was worſhipped as a god; which is alſo aſſerted by Minucius Foelix, in his apolo⯑gy for the Chriſtians. A thouſand writers have ſaid, that the Tartars believe their high-prieſt, termed Dalai Lama, to be immortal. But that is a miſtake: his death is publiſhed through the whole country; and couriers, ſent even to Pekin, intimate it to the Emperor of China: his effigy, at the ſame time, is taken down from the portal of the great church, and that of his ſucceſſor is put in its ſtead. The ſyſtem of the metempſy⯑choſis, adopted in that country, has occaſioned the miſtake. They believe, that the holy ſpirit, which animates a Dalai Lama, paſſes upon his death into the body of his ſucceſſor. The ſpirit therefore is believed to be immortal, not the bo⯑dy. The Dalai Lama, however, is the object of profound veneration. The Tartar princes are [212] daily ſending preſents to him, and conſulting him as an oracle: they even undertake a pilgrimage in order to worſhip him in perſon. In a retired part of the temple, he is ſhown covered with precious ſtones, and ſitting croſs-legged. They proſtrate themſelves before him at a diſtance, for they are not permitted to kiſs his toe. The prieſts make traffic even of his excrements, which are greedily purchaſed at a high price, and are kept in a golden box hanging from the neck, as a charm againſt every misfortune. Like the croſs of Jeſus, or the Virgin's milk, we may believe, there never will be wanting plenty of that preci⯑ous ſtuff to anſwer all demands: the prieſts out of charity will furniſh a quota, rather than ſuffer votaries to depart with their money for want of goods to purchaſe. The perſon of the Japan Pope, or Eccleſiaſtical Emperor, is held ſo ſa⯑cred, as to make the cutting his beard, or his nails, a deadly ſin. But abſurd laws are never ſteadily executed. The beard and the nails are cut in the night-time, when the Pope is ſuppoſed to be ſleeping; and what is taken away by that operation, is underſtood to be ſtolen from him, which is no impeachment upon his Holineſs.
That the Jews were idolaters when they ſo⯑journed in the land of Goſhen, were it not pre⯑ſumable from their commerce with the Egypti⯑ans, would however be evident from the hiſtory of Moſes. Notwithſtanding their miraculous deliverance from the Egyptian king, notwith⯑ſtanding the daily miracles wrought among them in the wilderneſs; ſo addicted were they to a viſible deity, that, during even the momentary abſence of Moſes converſing with God on the mount, they fabricated a golden calf, and worſhipped it as their god. ‘"And the Lord ſaid unto Moſes, Go, get thee down: for thy people which [213] thou broughteſt out of the land of Egypt, have corrupted themſelves: they have turned aſide quickly out of the way which I com⯑manded them: they have made them a mol⯑ten calf, have worſhipped it, have ſacrificed thereunto, and ſaid, Theſe be thy gods, O Iſrael, which have brought thee up out of the land of Egypta."’ The hiſtory of the Jews ſhows how difficult it is to reclaim from idolatry a brutiſh people, addicted to ſuperſtition, and and fettered by inveterate habit. What profuſi⯑on of blood, to bring that obſtinate and perverſe people to the true religion! all in vain. The book of Judges, in particular, is full of reitera⯑ted relapſes, from their own inviſible God, to the viſible gods of other nations. And in all pro⯑bability, their anxious deſire for a viſible king, related in the firſt book of Samuel, aroſe from their being deprived of a viſible god. There was a neceſſity for prohibiting imagesb; which would have ſoon been converted into deities viſi⯑ble: and it was extremely prudent, to ſupply the want of a viſible god, with endleſs ſhews and ce⯑remonies; which accordingly became the capital branch of the Jewiſh worſhip.
It appears to me from the whole hiſtory of the Jews, that a groſs people are not ſuſceptible but of a groſs religion; and without an enlightened un⯑derſtanding, that it is vain to think of eradicating ſuperſtition and idolatry. And after all the co⯑venants made with the Jews, after all the chaſ⯑tiſements and all the miracles laviſhed on them, that they were not however reclaimed from the [214] moſt groveling idolatry, is evident from the two golden calves fabricated by Jeroboam, ſaying, ‘"Behold thy gods, O Iſrael, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypta."’ The people alſo of Judah fell back to idol-worſhip un⯑der Rehoboam, ſon of Solomonb. Jehu, king of the ten tribes, did not tolerate the wor⯑ſhip of other godsc; but he continued to wor⯑ſhip the two golden calves fabricated by Jerobo⯑amd. Down to the days of King Hezekiah, the Jews worſhipped the brazen ſerpent erected by Moſes in the wilderneſs. The Jews ſeem in⯑deed to have been a very perverſe people: the many promiſes and threatenings announced by their prophets, and the many miracles wrought among them, had no permanent effect to reſtrain them from idolatry; and yet, during their cap⯑tivity in Babylon, ſeveral of them ſubmitted to be burnt alive, rather than to join in idol wor⯑ſhipe. Captivity cured them radically of ido⯑latry; and from that period to this day, they have not been guilty of a ſingle relapſe. Xiphilin, in his abridgement of Dion Caſſius, relating their war with Pompey, many centuries after the Ba⯑byloniſh captivity, gives the following account of them. ‘"Their cuſtoms are quite different from thoſe of other nations. Beſide a peculi⯑ar [215] manner of living, they acknowledge none of the common deities: they acknowledge but one, whom they worſhip with great venerati⯑on. There never was an image in Jeruſalem; becauſe they believe their God to be inviſible and ineffable. They have built him a temple of great ſize and beauty, remarkable in the following particular, that it is open above, without any roof."’
There lies no ſolid objection againſt images among an enlightened people, when uſed merely to rouſe devotion. But as images tend to per⯑vert the vulgar, they ought not to be admitted into churches: pictures are leſs liable to be miſ⯑apprehended; and the Ethiopians accordingly in⯑dulge pictures, though they prohibit ſtatues, in their churches. The general council of Frank⯑fort permitted the uſe of images in churches; but ſtrictly prohibited any worſhip to be addreſ⯑ſed to them. So prone however to idolatry are the low and illiterate, that the prohibition loſt ground both in France and in Germany; and idol-worſhip became again general.
It is extremely probable, that the ſun and moon were early held to be deities, and that they were the firſt viſible objects of worſhip. It muſt indeed be acknowledged, that of all the different kinds of idolatry, it is the moſt excuſable. Up⯑on the ſun depends health, vigour, and cheerful⯑neſs: during his retirement, all is dark and diſ⯑conſolate: when he performs his majeſtic round, to bleſs his ſubjects, and to beſtow fecundity up⯑on every animal and vegetable, can a mere ſa⯑vage with-hold gratitude and veneration! Hear an old Pagan bard upon that ſubject. ‘"O thou who rolleſt above, round as the ſhield of my fathers! Whence are thy beams, O ſun, thy everlaſting light? Thou comeſt forth in thy [216] awful beauty, and the ſtars hide their faces: thou moveſt alone, for who can be a compa⯑nion of thy courſe? The oaks of the moun⯑tain fall: the mountains decay with years: the ocean ſhrinks and grows again: the moon herſelf is loſt in heaven: but thou art for ever the ſame, rejoicing in the brightneſs of thy courſe. When tempeſts darken the world, when thunder rolls, and lightning flies, thou lookeſt in thy beauty from the clouds, and laugheſt at the ſtorma."’ Worſhip to the ſun as a real deity, was in former times univer⯑ſal; and prevails in many countries even at pre⯑ſent. The American ſavages worſhip the ſun, as ſovereign of the univerſe, known by the name of Ariſkoui among the Hurons, and of Agriſkoué among the Iroquois. They offer him tobacco, which they term ſmoking the ſun: the chief man in the aſſembly lights the calumet, and offers it thrice to the riſing ſun; imploring his protection, and recommending the tribe to his care. The chief proceeds to ſmoke; and every one ſmokes in his turn. This ceremony is performed on im⯑portant occaſions only: leſs matters are reſerved for their Manitou. The Miſſiſippi people offer to the ſun the firſt of what they take in hunting; which their commander artfully converts to his own uſe. The Apalachites, bordering on Flori⯑da, worſhip the ſun; but ſacrifice nothing to him that has life: they hold him to be the parent of life, and think that he can take no pleaſure in the deſtruction of any living creature: their de⯑votion is exerted in perfumes and ſongs. The Mexicans, while a free people, preſented to the [217] ſun a ſhare of their meat and drink. The inha⯑bitants of Darien believe in the ſun as their god, and in the moon as his wife, paying equal adora⯑tion to each. The people of Borneo worſhip the ſun and moon as real divinities. The Samo⯑ides worſhip both, bowing to them morning and evening in the Perſian manner.
But if the ſun and moon were the firſt objects of idolatry, knowledge and reflection reformed many from the error of holding theſe luminaries to be deities. ‘"That original intelligence,"’ ſay the Magians, ‘"who is the firſt principle of all things, diſcovers himſelf to the mind and underſtanding only: but he hath placed the ſun as his image in the viſible univerſe; and the beams of that bright luminary, are but a faint copy of the glory that ſhines in the high⯑er heavens."’ The Perſians, as Herodotus reports, had neither temples, nor altars, nor images: for, ſays that author, they do not think, like the Greeks, that there is any reſem⯑blance between gods and men. The Gaures, who to this day profeſs the ancient religion of Perſia, celebrate divine worſhip before the ſa⯑cred fire, and turn with peculiar veneration to⯑ward the riſing ſun, as the repreſentative of God; but they adore neither the ſun, nor the ſacred fire. They are profeſſed enemies to every image of the Deity cut with hands: and hence the ha⯑vock made by the ancient Perſians, upon the ſta⯑tues and temples of The Grecian gods. Such ſublimity of thought was above the reach of other uninſpired nations, excepting only the Hin⯑dows and Chineſe.
I cloſe the hiſtory of idolatry with a brief re⯑capitulation of the outlines. Admitting the ſun and moon to have been the firſt objects of idola⯑try, yet as Polytheiſm was once univerſal, they [218] make only two of the many gods that were eve⯑ry where worſhipped. We have ſeen, that the ſacred fire was employed in the worſhip of the ſun, and that images were employed in the worſhip of other deities. Images were originally uſed for the ſole purpoſe of animating devotion: ſuch was their uſe in Perſia and Hindoſtan; and ſuch was their uſe in every country among philo⯑ſophers. The Emperor Julian, in an epiſtle to Theodore concerning the images of the gods ſays, ‘"We believe not that theſe images are gods: we only uſe them in worſhipping the gods."’ In the progreſs toward idolatry, the next ſtep is, to imagine, that a deity loves his image, that he makes it his reſidence, or at leaſt communicates ſome virtue to it. The laſt ſtep is, to imagine the image itſelf to be a deity; which gained ground imperceptibly as ſtatuary advanced to⯑ward perfection. It would be incredible that men of ſenſe ſhould ever ſuffer themſelves to be im⯑preſſed with ſo wild a deluſion, were it not the overbearing influence of religious ſuperſtition. Credo quia impoſſible eſt, is applicable to idolatry as well as to tranſubſtantiation. The worſhip⯑ping the ſun and moon as deities, is idolatry in the ſtricteſt ſenſe. With reſpect to images, the firſt ſtep of the progreſs is not idolatry: the next is mixed idolatry: and the laſt is rank idolatry.
So much upon idolatry. I proceed to what approaches the neareſt to it, which is worſhip addreſſed to deified mortals. The ancient gods were exalted ſo little above men, that it was no hard taſk for the imagination to place in heaven, men who had made a figure on earth. The Grecian heaven was entirely peopled with ſuch men, as well as that of many other nations. Men are deified every day by the Romiſh church, under the denomination of ſaints: per⯑ſons [219] are frequently ſelected for that honour who ſcarce deſerved a place on earth, and ſome who never had a place there. The Roman Catholics copy the Pagans, in worſhipping theſe ſubordi⯑nate divinities by prayers and oblations: and they are well rewarded, by being taken under protec⯑tion of theſe ſaints in quality of tutelar deities. One branch of the office beſtowed on theſe ſaints, is to explain the wants of their votaries to the King of heaven, and to ſupplicate for them. The mediatorial office prevails with reſpect to earthly potentates, as well as heavenly: being ſtruck with awe and timidity in approaching thoſe exalted above us, we naturally take hold of ſome intermediate perſon to ſolicit for us. In ap⯑proaching the Almighty, the mind, ſinking down into humility and profound veneration, ſtops ſhort, relying upon ſome friend in heaven to in⯑tercede in its behalf. Temples among the Co⯑chin-Chineſe are conſtructed with a deep and dark niche, which is their ſanctum ſanctorum. They hold, that no repreſentation, whether by painting or ſculpture, can be made of God, who is inviſible. The niche denotes his incomprehen⯑ſibility; and the good men placed by them in heaven, are believed to be their interceſſors at the throne of grace. The prayers of the Chingu⯑leſe are ſeldom directed to the ſupreme being, but to his vicegerents. Interceſſors, at the ſame time, contribute to the eaſe of their votaries: a Roman Catholic need not aſſume a very high tone in addreſſing a tutelar ſaint choſen by him⯑ſelf.
Falſe notions of Providence have prompted groveling mortals to put confidence in mediators and interceſſors of a ſtill lower claſs, viz. living mortals, who by idle auſterities have acquired a reputation for holineſs. Take the following in⯑ſtance, [220] the ſtrongeſt of the kind that can be fi⯑gured. Louis XI. of France, ſenſible of the approach of death, ſent for a hermit of Calabria, named Franciſco Martarillo; and throwing him⯑ſelf at the hermit's feet in a flood of tears, en⯑treated him to intercede with God, that his life might be prolonged; as if the voice of a Cala⯑brian friar, ſays Voltaire, could alter the courſe of Providence, by preſerving a weak and per⯑verſe ſoul in a worn-out body.
Having diſcuſſed the perſons that are the ob⯑jects of worſhip, the next ſtep in order is, to take under view the forms and ceremonies em⯑ployed in religious worſhip. Forms are neceſſa⯑ry where-ever a number of perſons join in one operation: they are eſſential in an army, and lit⯑tle leſs eſſential at public worſhip. The uſe of ceremonies is to excite devotion: but to pre⯑ſerve a juſt medium, requires great delicacy of taſte; for though ceremonies are neceſſary at public worſhip to prevent languor, yet ſuperflui⯑ty of ceremonies quenches devotion, by occupy⯑ing the mind too much upon externals. The Ro⯑man-Catholic worſhip is crowded with ceremo⯑nies: it reſembles the Italian opera, which is all ſound, and no ſentiment. The Preſbyterian form of worſhip is too naked: it is proper for philoſophers more than for the populace. This is fundamentally the cauſe of the numerous ſeceſſi⯑ons from the church of Scotland that have made a figure of late: people diſlike the eſtabliſhed forms, when they find leſs comfort in public worſhip than is expected; and without being ſenſible of the real cauſe, they chuſe paſtors for themſelves, who ſupply the want of ceremonies by loud ſpeaking, with much external fervor and devotion.
[221] The frequent ablutions or waſhings among the Mahometans and others, as acts of devotion, ſhow the influence that the ſlighteſt reſemblances have on the ignorant. Becauſe purification, in ſeveral languages, is a term applicable to the mind as well as to the body, ſhallow thinkers, miſled by the double meaning, imagine that the mind, like the body, is purified by water.
The ſect of Ali uſe the Alcoran tranſlated into the Perſian language, which is their native tongue. The ſect of Omar eſteem this to be a groſs im⯑piety; being perſuaded, that the Alcoran was written in Arabic, by the Angel Gabriel, at the command of God himſelf. The Roman Catho⯑lics are not then the only people who profeſs to ſpeak nonſenſe to God Almighty; or, which is the ſame, who profeſs to pray in an unknown tongue.
At meals, the ancients poured out ſome wine as a libation to the gods: Chriſtians pronounce a ſhort prayer, termed a grace.
The groſs notion of Deity entertained by the ancients, is exemplified in their worſhipping and ſacrificing on high places; in order, as they thought, to be more within ſight. Jupiter in Homer praiſes Hector for ſacrificing to him fre⯑quently upon the top of Ida; and Strabo obſerves, that the Perſians, who uſed neither images nor altars, ſacrificed to the gods in high places. Ba⯑lak carried Balaam the prophet to the top of Piſ⯑gah, and other mountains, to ſacrifice there, and to curſe Iſrael. The votaries of Baal always worſhipped in high places. Even the ſage Taci⯑tus was infected with that abſurdity. Speaking of certain high mountains where the gods were worſhipped, he expreſſes himſelf thus: Maxime [222] coelo appropinquare, preceſque mortalium a Deo nuſ⯑quam propius audiri *.
Ceremonies that tend to unhinge morality, be⯑long more properly to the following ſection, treating of the connection between religion and morality.
It is now full time to take under conſideration an objection to the ſenſe of Deity hinted above, ar⯑guing from the groſs conceptions of deity among many nations, that this ſenſe cannot be innate. The objection is not indeed ſtated in the follow⯑ing paſſage, borrowed from a juſtly celebrated author; but as it may be implied, the paſſage ſhall be fairly tranſcribed. ‘"The univerſal pro⯑penſity to believe inviſible intelligent power, being a general attendant on human nature, if not an original inſtinct, may be conſidered as a kind of ſtamp which the Deity has ſet upon his work; and nothing ſurely can more dignify mankind, than to be the only earthly being who bears the ſtamp or image of the univerſal Creator. But conſult this image as it commonly is in popular religions: how is the Deity disfigured! what caprice, ab⯑ſurdity, and immorality, are attributed to hima!"’ A ſatisfactory anſwer to the objecti⯑on implied in this paſſage, will occur, upon re⯑collecting the progreſs of men and nations from infancy to maturity. Our external ſenſes, neceſ⯑ſary for ſelf-preſervation, ſoon arrive at perfec⯑tion: the more refined ſenſes of propriety, of right and wrong, of Deity, of being accountable [223] creatures, and many others of the ſame kind, are of ſlower growth: the ſenſe of right and wrong in particular, and the ſenſe of Deity, ſeldom reach perfection, but by good education and much ſtudy. If ſuch be the caſe among en⯑lightened nations, what is to be expected from ſa⯑vages who are in the loweſt ſtage of underſtand⯑ing? To a ſavage of New Holland, whoſe ſenſe of deity is extremely obſcure, one may talk with⯑out end of a being who created the world, and who governs it by wiſe laws; but in vain; for the ſavage will be never the wiſer. The ſame ſavage hath alſo a glimmering of the moral ſenſe, as all men have; and yet in vain will you diſ⯑courſe to him of approbation and diſapprobation, of merit and demerit: of theſe terms he has no clear conception. Hence the endleſs aberrations of rude and barbarous nations, from pure religion as well as from pure morality. Of the latter there are many inſtances collected in the prece⯑ding tract; and of the former, inſtances ſtill more plentiful in the preſent tract. The ſenſe of deity in dark times has indeed been ſtrangely diſ⯑torted by certain biaſſes and paſſions that enſlave the rude and illiterate: but theſe yield gradually to the rational faculty as it ripens, and at laſt leave religion free to ſound philoſophy. Then it is that men, liſtening to the innate ſenſe of deity purified from every bias, acquire a clear convic⯑tion of one ſupreme Deity who made and go⯑verns the world.
The foregoing objection then, impartially con⯑ſidered, weighs not againſt the ſenſe of deity more than againſt the moral ſenſe. If it have weight, it reſolves into a complaint againſt Providence for the weakneſs of the ſenſe of deity in rude and illiterate nations. If ſuch complaint be ſolidly founded, it pierces extremely deep: why have [224] not all nations, even in their naſcent ſtate, the ſenſe of deity, and the moral ſenſe, in purity and perfection? why do they not poſſeſs all the arts of life without neceſſity of culture or experience? why are we born poor and helpleſs infants, in⯑ſtead of being produced complete in every mem⯑ber, internal and external, as Adam and Eve were? The plan of Providence is far above the reach of our weak criticiſms. I ſhall only obſerve, that as, with reſpect to individuals, there is a progreſs from infancy to maturity; ſo there is a ſimilar progreſs in every nation, from its ſavage ſtate to its maturity in arts and ſcien⯑ces. A child that has juſt conceptions of the Deity and of his attributes, would be a great miracle; and would not ſuch knowledge in a ſa⯑vage be equally ſo? Nor can I diſcover what benefit a child or a ſavage could reap from ſuch knowledge; provided it remained a child or a ſa⯑vage in every other reſpect. The genuine fruits of religion, are gratitude to the Author of our be⯑ing, veneration to him as the ſupreme Being, ab⯑ſolute reſignation to the eſtabliſhed laws of his Providence, and chearful performance of every duty: but a child has not the ſlighteſt idea of gratitude nor of veneration, and very little of moral duties; and a ſavage, with reſpect to theſe, is not much ſuperior to a child. The formation and government of the world, as far as we know, are excellent: we have great reaſon to preſume the ſame with reſpect to what we do not know; and every good man will reſt ſatisfied with the following reflection, That we ſhould have been men from the hour of our birth, complete in every part, had it been conformable to the ſyſ⯑tem of unerring Providence.
SECT. II.
Morality conſidered as a branch of duty to our Maker.
[225]HAVING travelled long on a rough road, not a little fatiguing, the agreeable part lies before us; which is, to treat of morality as a branch of religion. It was that ſubject which induced me to undertake the hiſtory of natural religion; a ſubject that will afford ſalutary in⯑ſtruction, and will inſpire true piety, if inſtruc⯑tion can produce that effect.
Bayle ſtarts a queſtion, Whether a people may not be happy in ſociety, and be qualified for good government, upon principles of morality ſingly, without any ſenſe of religion? The queſtion is ingenious, and may give opportunity for ſubtile reaſoning; but it is uſeleſs, becauſe the fact ſuppoſed cannot happen. The principles of morality and of religion are equally rooted in our nature: they are indeed weak in children and in ſavages; but they grow up together, and ad⯑vance toward maturity with equal ſteps. Where⯑ever the moral ſenſe is in perfection, a ſenſe of religion cannot be wanting; and if a man who has no ſenſe of religion, live decently in ſociety, he is more indebted for his conduct to good tem⯑per than to ſound morals.
[226] We have the authority of the Prophet Micah, formerly quoted, for holding, that religion, or, in other words, our duty to God, conſiſts in do⯑ing juſtice, in loving mercy, and in walking hum⯑bly with him. The laſt is the foundation of re⯑ligious worſhip, diſcuſſed in the foregoing ſection: the two former belong to the preſent head. And if we have gratitude to our Maker and Benefac⯑tor, if we owe implicit obedience to his will as our rightful ſovereign, we ought not to ſeparate the worſhip we owe to him, from juſtice and benevolence to our fellow-creatures; for to be unjuſt to them, to be cruel or hard-hearted, is a tranſgreſſion of his will, no leſs groſs than a total neglect of religious worſhip. ‘"Maſter, which is the great commandment in the law? Jeſus ſaid unto him, Thou ſhalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy ſoul, and with all thy mind. This is the firſt and great commandment. And the ſecond is like unto it, Thou ſhalt love thy neighbour as thy⯑ſelf. On theſe two commandments hang all the law and the prophetsa."’ ‘"Then ſhall the King ſay unto them on his right hand, Come, ye bleſſed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you. For I was hungry, and ye gave me meat: I was thirſty, and ye gave me drink: I was a ſtranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye cloathed me: ſick, and ye viſited me: in priſon, and ye came unto me. Then ſhall the righteous anſwer, ſaying, Lord, when ſaw we thee hungry, and fed thee? or thirſty, and gave thee drink? When ſaw we thee a ſtranger, and took thee in? or naked, and cloathed thee? When ſaw we thee ſick, or [227] in priſon, and came unto thee? And the King ſhall anſwer, Verily I ſay unto you, in as much as ye have done it unto one of the leaſt of theſe my brethren, ye have done it unto mea."’ ‘"Pure religion and undefiled before God, is this, To viſit the fatherleſs and widow in their af⯑fliction; and to keep himſelf unſpotted from the worldb."’ ‘"Hoſtias et victimas Do⯑mino offeram quas in uſum mei protulit, ut re⯑jiciam ei ſuum munus? Ingratum eſt; cum ſit litabilis hoſtia bonus animus, et pura mens, et ſincera conſcientia. Igitur qui innocentiam colit, Domino ſupplicat; qui juſtitiam, Deo libat; qui fraudibus abſtinet, propitiat Deum; qui hominem periculo ſubripit, optimam victi⯑mam caedit. Haec noſtra ſacrificia, haec Dei ſacra ſunt. Sic apud nos religioſior eſt ille, qui juſtior* c."’ The laws of Zaleucus, lawgiver to the Locrians, who lived before the [228] days of Pythagoras, are introduced with the fol⯑lowing preamble. ‘"No man can queſtion the ex⯑iſtence of Deity who obſerves the order and har⯑mony of the univerſe, which cannot be the pro⯑duction of chance. Men ought to bridle their paſſions, and to guard againſt every vice. God is pleaſed with no ſacrifice but a ſincere heart: and differs widely from mortals, whoſe delight are ſplendid ceremonies and rich offerings. Let juſtice therefore be ſtudied; for by that only can a man be acceptable to the Deity. Let thoſe who are tempted to do ill, have always before their eyes the ſevere judgments of the gods againſt wicked men. Let them always keep in view the hour of death, that fatal hour which is attended with bitter remorſe for tranſgreſſing the rules of juſtice. If a bad diſpoſition incline you to vice, pray to Hea⯑ven at the foot of the altar, to mend your heart."’
Morality is thus included in religion. Some nations, however, leave not this propoſition to reaſoning or conviction, but ingroſs many moral duties in their religious creed. In the 67th chap⯑ter of the Sadder, a lie is declared to be a great ſin, and is diſcharged even where it tends to bring about good. So much purer is the morality of the ancient Perſians than of the preſent Juſuits. The religion of the people of Pegu, inculcates charity, forbids to kill, to ſteal, or to injure others. At⯑tend to the conſequence: that people, fierce ori⯑ginally, have become humane and compaſſionate. In a ſacred book of the ancient Perſians, it is written, ‘"If you incline to be a ſaint, give good education to your children; for their virtuous actions will be imputed to you."’ The people of Japan pay great reſpect to their parents; it being an article in their creed, That thoſe who fail [229] in duty to their parents, will be puniſhed by the gods. In theſe two inſtances, religion tends greatly to connect parents and children in the moſt intimate tie of cordial affection. The reverence the Chineſe have for their anceſtors, and the ce⯑remonies performed annually at their tombs, tend to keep them at home, and prevent their wander⯑ing into foreign countries.
Superſtitious rites in ſome religions, are ſuc⯑ceſsfully employed to enforce certain moral du⯑ties. The Romans commonly made their ſolemn covenants in the capitol, before the ſtatue of Ju⯑piter; by which ſolemnity he was underſtood to guarantee the covenant, ready to pour out venge⯑ance upon the tranſgreſſor. The Burates, a people in Grand Tartary, have a cuſtom, which is, to de⯑mand an oath upon a mountain, held to be ſacred. They are firmly perſuaded, that the perſon who ſwears a falſehood, will not come down alive. The Eſſenes, a Jewiſh ſect, bound themſelves by a ſolemn oath, to ſhun unlawful gain, to be faith⯑ful to their promiſes, not to lie, and never to harm any one. In Cochin-China, the ſouls of thoſe who have been eminent for arts or arms, are worſhipped. Their ſtatues are placed in the tem⯑ples; and the ſize of a ſtatue is proportioned to the merit of the perſon repreſented. If that cuſtom be executed with candour, there can⯑not be a nobler incitement to public ſpirit. The Egyptians did not reach the thought of honouring virtue after death; but they diſ⯑honoured vice, by prohibiting it from the Elyſian fields.
The ſalutary influence of religion on morality, is not confined to pure religion, whether by its connection with morality in general, or by incul⯑cating particular moral duties. There are many religious doctrines, doubtful or perhaps erroneous, [230] that contribute alſo to enforce morality. Some followers of Confucius aſcribe immortality to the ſouls only of the juſt; and believe that the ſouls of the wicked periſh with their bodies. In the ſecond chapter of the Sadder, it is written, that a man whoſe good works are more numerous than his ſins, will go to paradiſe; otherwiſe that he will be thruſt into hell, there to remain for ever. It adds, that a bridge erected over the great abyſs where hell is ſituated, leads from this earth to pa⯑radiſe; that upon the bridge there ſtands an angel, who weighs in a balance the merits of the paſſen⯑gers; that the paſſenger whoſe good works are found light in the balance, is thrown over the bridge into hell; but that the paſſenger whoſe good works preponderate, proceeds in his journey to paradiſe, where there is a glorious city, gar⯑dens, rivers, and beautiful virgins, whoſe looks are a perpetual feaſt, but who muſt not be en⯑joyed. In the fourth chapter of the Sadder, good works are zealouſly recommended in the following parable. Zeraduſht, or Zoroaſter, being in com⯑pany with God, ſaw a man in hell who wanted his right foot. ‘"Oh my Creator," ſaid Zoro⯑aſter, who is that man who wants the right foot? God anſwered, He was the king of thirty-three cities, reigned many years, but never did any good, except once, when, ſeeing a ſheep tyed where it could not reach its food, he with his right foot puſhed the food to it; upon which account, that foot was ſaved from hell."’ In Japan, thoſe of the Sinto religion be⯑lieve, that the ſouls of good men are tranſlated to a place of happineſs, next to the habitation of their gods. But they admit no place of torment; nor have they any notion of a devil, but what animates the fox, a very miſchievous animal in that country. What then becomes of the ſouls [231] of ill men? Being denied entrance into heaven, they wander about to expiate their ſins. Thoſe of the Bubſdo religion believe, that in the other world, there is a place of miſery as well as of hap⯑pineſs. Of the latter, there are different degrees, for different degrees of virtue; and yet, far from envying the happier lot of others, every inhabi⯑tant is perfectly ſatisfied with his own. There are alſo different degrees of miſery; for juſtice requires, that every man be puniſhed according to the nature and number of his ſins. Jemma O is the ſevere judge of the wicked: their vices ap⯑pear to him in all their horror, by means of a mirror, named the mirror of knowledge. When ſouls have expiated their ſins, after ſuffering long in the priſon of darkneſs, they are ſent back into the world, to animate ſerpents, toads, and ſuch vile animals as reſembled them in their former exiſtence. From theſe they paſs into the bodies of more innocent animals; and at laſt are again ſuffered to enter human bodies; after the diſſo⯑lution of which, they run the ſame courſe of hap⯑pineſs or miſery as at firſt. The people of Benin, in Africa, believe a man's ſhadow to be a real being, that gives teſtimony after death for or againſt him; and that he accordingly is made happy or miſerable in another world. A religi⯑ous belief in ancient Greece, that the ſouls of thoſe who are left above ground without rites, have no acceſs to Elyſium, tended to promote humanity; for thoſe who are careful of the dead, will not be altogether indifferent about the living.
Immenſe are the bleſſings that men in ſociety reap, from the union of pure religion with ſound morality: but however immenſe, I boldly affirm, that they ſcarce counterbalance the manifold evils that ſociety has ſuffered from impure religion, [232] indulging and even encouraging groſs immorali⯑ties. A few of the moſt glaring inſtances ſhall be ſelected. The firſt I ſhall mention is, the holding religion to conſiſt in the belief of points purely ſpeculative, ſuch as have no relation to good works. The natural effect of that doctrine is, to divorce religion from morality, in manifeſt contradiction to the will of God. What avails it, for example, to the glory of God, or to the hap⯑pineſs of mankind, whether the conception of the Virgin Mary was maculate or immaculate? The following few inſtances, taken out of a large heap, are controverſies of that kind, which mi⯑ſerably afflicted the Chriſtian church for ages, and engendered the bittereſt enmity, raging with deſtruction and ſlaughter among brethren of the ſame religion. In the fifth century, it was the employment of more than one general council, to determine, whether the mother of God, or the mother of Chriſt, is the proper epithet of the Virgin Mary. In the ſixth century, a bitter con⯑troverſy aroſe, whether Chriſt's body was corrup⯑tible. In the ſeventh century, Chriſtians were divided about the volition of Chriſt, whether he had one or two Wills, and how his Will operated. In the eighth and ninth centuries, the Greek and Latin churches divided about the Holy Ghoſt, whether he proceeded from the Father and Son, or only from the Father. In the eleventh century, there aroſe a warm conteſt between the Greek and Latin churches, about uſing unleavened bread in the euchariſt. In the fourteenth century, it was controverted between Pope John XXII. and the divines of his time, whether ſouls in their inter⯑mediate ſtate ſee God, or only the human nature of Chriſt. Franciſcans have ſuffered death in multitudes about the form of their hood. It was diſputed between the Dominicans and Franciſcans, [233] whether Chriſt had any property. The Pope pronounced the negative propoſition to be a peſti⯑lential and blaſphemous doctrine, ſubverſive of Catholic faith. Many councils were held at Con⯑ſtantinople, to determine what ſort of light it was that the diſciples ſaw on Mount Tabor: it was ſolemnly pronounced, to be the eternal light with which God is encircled; and which may be term⯑ed his energy or operation, but is diſtinct from his nature and eſſence. A heap of propoſitions in the creed of St Athanaſius, as far as intelligible, are merely ſpeculative, ſuch as may be adopted or rejected, without the leaſt danger to religion, or to morality; and yet we are commanded to be⯑lieve every one of them, under the pain of eter⯑nal damnation. An endleſs number of ſuch pro⯑poſitions, adopted by the Romiſh church, clearly evince, that Chriſtianity was in that church held to conſiſt entirely in belief, without any regard to good works*. Whether the Alcoran was eter⯑nal, or whether it was created, is a diſpute that has occaſioned much effuſion of Mahometan blood. The Calif Mamoun, with many doctors, held it to have been created; but the greater number inſiſted, that being the word of God, it muſt like him be eternal. This opinion is em⯑braced by the preſent Mahometants, who hold all who deny it to be infidels. There is among men great uniformity of opinion in matters of impor⯑tance. Religious differences are generally about trifles, where liberty ought to be indulged with⯑out [234] reſervea; and yet upon theſe trifles, are founded the bittereſt enmities. It ought therefore to be a fundamental law in every church, to abſtain from loading its creed with articles that are not eſſential; for ſuch articles tend to era⯑dicate brotherly love, and to convert into bit⯑ter enemies, men who are fundamentally of the ſame faith.
In the next place ſhall be mentioned, certain articles of faith that tend to ſap the very founda⯑tion of one or other moral duty. What, for ex⯑ample, can more effectually promote cruelty, than the creed of the Idaans, a people in the iſland of Borneo, That every perſon they put to death muſt attend them as a ſlave in the other world? This belief makes them prone to war, and occaſions aſſaſſinations without end. Accor⯑ding to the creed of the ſavages in Canada, the killing and burning enemies are what chiefly en⯑title them to be happy in another world, and that he who deſtroys the greateſt number, will be the moſt happy. At the ſame time, they have no notion of greater happineſs there, than plenty of game, great abundance of all things without la⯑bour, and full gratification of every ſenſual ap⯑petite. The Scandinavians had no notion of greater bliſs in another world, than to drink beer out of the ſkull of an enemy, in the hall of Wo⯑den, their tutelar deity: can hatred and revenge in this world be more honourably rewarded? The doctrine of tutelar deities is equally produc⯑tive of hatred and revenge: relying on a ſuperi⯑or power who eſpouſes all my quarrels, I put no bounds to my reſentment, and every moral duty in oppoſition is trampled under foot. The [235] following creed of the inhabitants of the Marian or Ladrone iſlands, is a great encouragement to cowardice. Heaven, according to that creed, is a region under the earth, filled with cocoa-trees, ſugar-canes, and variety of other delicious fruits. Hell is a vaſt furnace, conſtantly red hot. Their condition in the other world depends not on good or bad actions, but on the manner of their death. Thoſe who die a natural death, go ſtraight to heaven: they may ſin freely, if they can but ſe⯑cure their perſons againſt violence. But war and bloodſhed are their averſion, becauſe thoſe who ſuffer a violent death go ſtraight to hell. In ma⯑ny ancient nations, a goddeſs was worſhipped, whoſe province it was to promote animal love without regard to matrimony. That goddeſs was in Greece termed Aphrodité, in Rome Venus, and in Babylon Militta. To her was ſacrificed, in ſome countries, the virginity of young women; which, it was believed, did ſecure their chaſtity for ever after. Juſtin mentions a cuſtom in the iſland of Cyprus, of ſending young women at ſtated times to the ſea-ſhore; where they proſti⯑tuted themſelves as a tribute to Venus, that they might be chaſte the reſt of their lives. His words are, ‘"Pro reliqua pudicitiae libamenta Veneri ſoluturasa."’ In other nations, a ſmall number only were proſtituted, in order to ſecure to the remainder, a chaſte and regular life. This explains a cuſtom among the Babylonians, which, far from being thought a religious act, is held as a proof of abandoned debauchery. The cuſtom was, That every woman once in her life, ſhould proſtitute herſelf in the temple of the goddeſs Mylitta. Herodotus reports, that there⯑by [236] they became proof againſt all temptation. And Aelian obſerves the ſame of the Lydian la⯑dies. Credat Judaeus Apella. Margaret Poretta, who in the fourteenth century made a figure among the Beguines, preached a doctrine not a little favourable to incontinence. She undertook to demonſtrate, ‘"That the ſoul, when abſorbed in the love of God, is free from the reſtraint of law, and may freely gratify every natural appetite, without contracting guilt;"’ a cordial doctrine for a lady of pleaſure. That crazy perſon, inſtead of being laughed at, was burnt alive at Paris. In the fifteenth century, a ſect termed brethren and ſiſters of the free ſpirit, held, That modeſty is a mark of inhering corruption; and that thoſe only are perfect, who can behold nakedneſs without emotion. Theſe fanatics ap⯑peared at public worſhip, without the leaſt co⯑vering. Many tenets profeſſed by the Jeſuits, open a door to every immorality. ‘"Perſons truly wicked, and void of the love of God, may expect eternal life in heaven; provided only they be impreſſed with fear of divine an⯑ger, and avoid heinous crimes through the dread of future puniſhment."’ Again, ‘"Per⯑ſons may tranſgreſs with ſafety, who have a probable reaſon for tranſgreſſing, ſuch as any plauſible argument. A judge, for example, may decide for the leaſt probable ſide of a queſtion, and even againſt his own opinion, provided he be ſupported by any tolerable au⯑thority."’ Again, ‘"Actions intrinſically evil, and contrary to divine law, may however be innocently performed, by thoſe who can join, even ideally, a good end to the performance. For example, an eccleſiaſtic may ſafely com⯑mit ſimony, by purchaſing a benefice, if to the unlawful act, he join the innocent purpoſe [237] of procuring to himſelf a ſubſiſtence. A man who runs another through the body for a ſlight affront, renders the action lawful, if his mo⯑tive be honour, not revenge."’ A famous Je⯑ſuit taught, that a young man may wiſh the death of his father, and even rejoice at his death, pro⯑vided the wiſh proceed, not from hatred, but from fondneſs of his father's eſtate. And ano⯑ther Jeſuit has had the effrontery to maintain, that a monk may lawfully aſſaſſinate a calumnia⯑tor, who threatens to charge his order with ſcan⯑dalous practices.
A doctrine that ſtrikes at the root of every moral duty, as well as of religion itſelf, is, That God will accept of a compoſition for ſin; a doc⯑trine that prevailed univerſally during the days of ignorance. Compoſitions for crimes were coun⯑tenanced by law in every countrya; and men, prone to indulge their paſſions, flattered them⯑ſelves, that they might compound with God for ſinning againſt him, as with their neighbours for injuring them. Thoſe who have no notion of any motive but intereſt, naturally think it to be equally powerful with the Deity. An opinion prevailed univerſally in the Chriſtian church, from the eighth century down to the Reforma⯑tion, that liberal donations to God, to a ſaint, to the church, would procure pardon even for the groſſeſt ſins. During that period, the build⯑ing churches and monaſteries was in high vogue. This abſurd or rather impious doctrine, proved a plentiful harveſt of wealth to the clergy; for the great and opulent, who are commonly the boldeſt ſinners, have the greateſt ability to com⯑pound for their ſins. There needs nothing but ſuch an opinion, to annihilate every duty, whe⯑ther [238] moral or religious; for what wicked man will think either of reſtitution or of reformation, who can purchaſe a pardon from Heaven with ſo little trouble? Louis XI. of France was remark⯑ably ſuperſtitious, even in a ſuperſtitious age. To ingratiate himſelf with the Virgin Mary, he ſurrendered to her the county of Boulogne with great ſolemnity. Voltaire remarks, that godli⯑neſs conſiſts, not in making the Virgin a Coun⯑teſs, but in abſtaining from ſin. Compoſition for ſins is a doctrine of the church of Rome, boldly profeſſed without diſguiſe. A book of rates, publiſhed by authority of the Pope, contains ſta⯑ted prices for abſolutions, not excepting the moſt heinous ſins that men are capable to commit. So true is the obſervation of Aeneas Silvius, after⯑ward Pope Paul II. ‘"Nihil eſt quod abſque argento Romana curia det: ipſa manuum im⯑poſitio, et Spiritus Sancti dona, venduntur; nec peccatorum venia niſi nummatis impen⯑ditur*."’ Of all the immoral atonements for ſin, human ſacrifices are the moſt brutal; devi⯑ating no leſs from the purity of religion, than from the fundamental principles of morality. They wore out of uſe as kindly affections pre⯑vailed; and will never again be reſtored, unleſs we fall back to the ſavage manners of our forefa⯑thers. Compoſition for crimes, once univerſal, is now baniſhed from every enlightened nation. Compoſition for ſins, was once equally univer⯑ſal; and I wiſh it could be ſaid, that there are [239] now no remains of that poiſonous opinion among Chriſtians: the practice of the church of Rome will not permit it to be ſaid. Were men deeply convinced, as they ought to be, that ſincere re⯑pentance and reformation of manners are the on⯑ly means for obtaining pardon, they would never dream of making bargains with the Almighty, and of compounding with him for their ſins.
In the practice of religion, the laying too great weight on forms, ceremonies, and other external arbitrary acts, has an unhappy tendency on mo⯑rality. That error has infected every religion. The Sadder, the Bible of the Gaures, prohibits calumny and detraction, lying, ſtealing, adulte⯑ry, and fornication. It however enervates mo⯑rality and religion, by placing many trifling acts on a level with the moſt important duties. It en⯑joins the deſtruction of five kinds of reptiles, frogs, mice, ants, ſerpents, and flies that ſting. It teaches, that to walk barefoot profanes the ground. Great regard for water is enjoined: it muſt not be uſed during the night; and when ſet upon the fire, a third part of the pot muſt be empty, to prevent boiling over. The bra⯑mins have wofully degenerated from their origi⯑nal inſtitutions, thinking at preſent, that religion conſiſts in forms and ceremonies. As ſoon as an infant is born, the word Oum muſt be pronounc⯑ed over it; otherwiſe it will be eternally miſera⯑ble: its tongue muſt be rubbed with conſecrated meal: the third day of the moon, it muſt be car⯑ried into open air, with its head to the north. The inhabitants of Formoſa believe in hell; but it is only for puniſhing thoſe who fail to go naked in certain ſeaſons, or who wear cotton inſtead of ſilk. In the time of Ghenhizcan, it was held in Tartary a mortal ſin, to put a knife into the fire, to whip a horſe with his bridle, or to break one [240] bone with another; and yet theſe pious Tartars held treachery, robbery, murder, to be no ſins. A faction in Aegina, a Greek commonwealth, treacherouſly aſſaſſinated ſeven hundred of their fellow-citizens. They cut off the hands of a miſerable fugitive, who had laid hold of the altar for protection, in order to murder him without the precincts of the temple. Their trea⯑cherous aſſaſſinations made no impreſſion: but though they refrained from murder in the temple, yet by profaning it with blood, ſays Herodotus, they offended the gods, and contracted inexpia⯑ble guilt. Would one believe, that a tribunal was eſtabliſhed by Charlemagne more horrible than the inquiſition itſelf? It was eſtabliſhed in Weſtphalia, to puniſh with death every Saxon who eat meat in lent. The ſame law was eſta⯑bliſhed in Flanders and in French-county, the be⯑ginning of the ſeventeenth century.
Liſten to a celebrated writer upon that poiſo⯑nous conceit. ‘"It is certain, that in every reli⯑gion, however ſublime, many of the votaries, perhaps the greateſt number, will ſtill ſeek the divine favour, not by virtue and good mo⯑rals, which alone can be acceptable to a per⯑fect being, but either by frivolous obſervan⯑ces, by intemperate zeal, by rapturous ecſta⯑ſies, or by the belief of myſterious and ab⯑ſurd opinions. When the old Romans were attacked with a peſtilence, they never aſcrib⯑ed their ſufferings to their vices, or dreamed of repentance and amendment. They never thought that they were the general robbers of the world, whoſe ambition and avarice made deſolate the earth, and reduced opulent nati⯑ons to want and beggary. They only created a dictator in order to drive a nail into a door; and by that means they thought that they had [241] ſufficiently appeaſed their incenſed deitya."’ Thus, gradually, the eſſentials of religion wear out of mind, by the attention given to forms and ceremonies: theſe intercept and exhauſt the whole ſtock of devotion, which ought to be re⯑ſerved for the higher exerciſes of religion. The neglect or tranſgreſſion of mere punctilios, are puniſhed as heinous ſins; while ſins really hei⯑nous are ſuffered to paſs with impunity. The Jews exalted the keeping their ſabbath holy, above every other duty; and it was the general belief, that the ſtrict obſervance of that day was alone ſufficient to atone for every ſin. The command of reſting that day, was taken ſo lite⯑rally, that they would not on that day defend themſelves even againſt an aſſaſſin. Ptolomy, ſon of Lagus, entered Jeruſalem on the Jewiſh ſabbath, in a hoſtile manner without reſiſtance. Nor did experience open the eyes of that fooliſh people. Xiphilin, relating the ſiege of Jeruſa⯑lem by Pompey, ſays, that if the Jews had not reſted on the ſabbath, Pompey would not have been ſucceſsful. Every Saturday he renewed his bat⯑teries: and having on that day made a breach, he marched into the town without oppoſition. One cannot help ſmiling at an Amſterdam Jew, who had no check of conſcience, for breaking open a houſe, and carrying off money; and yet being ſtopped in his flight by the ſabbath before he got out of the territory, he moſt piouſly reſt⯑ed, till he was apprehended, and led to the gal⯑lows. Nor are the Jews to this day cured of that frenzy. In ſome late accountsfrom Conſtantino⯑ple, a fire broke out in a Jew's houſe on Satur⯑day: [242] rather than profane the ſabbath, he ſuffe⯑red the flames to ſpread, which occaſioned the deſtruction of five hundred houſes*. We laugh at the Jews, and we have reaſon; and yet there are many well-meaning Proteſtants, who lay the whole of religion upon punctual attendance at public worſhip. Are the Roman Catholics leſs ſuperſtitious with reſpect to the place of worſhip, than the Jews are with reſpect to the day of wor⯑ſhip? In the year 1670, ſome Arabians, watch⯑ing an opportunity, got into the town of Dieu when the gates were opened in the morning. They might eaſily have been expelled by the ca⯑non of the citadel; but the Portugueſe governor was obliged to look on without firing a gun, be⯑ing threatened with excommunication, if the leaſt miſchief ſhould be done to any of the chur⯑ches. The only doctrines inculcated from the Romiſh pulpit down to the Reformation, were the authority of holy mother church; the merit of the ſaints, and their credit in the court of hea⯑ven; the dignity, glory, and love of the bleſſed Virgin; the efficacy of relics; the intolerable fire of purgatory; and the vaſt importance of [243] indulgences. Relying on ſuch pious acts for ob⯑taining remiſſion of ſins, all orders of men ruſh⯑ed headlong into vice†; nor was there a ſingle attempt to ſtem the current of immorality; for the traffic of indulgences could not but flouriſh in proportion to the growth of ſin. And thus was religion ſet in direct oppoſition to morality. St Eloy, biſhop of Noyon in the ſeventh century, and canonized by the church of Rome, delivers the following doctrine. ‘"He is a good Chriſti⯑an who goes frequently to church; who pre⯑ſents his oblations upon the altar; who taſtes not the fruit of his own induſtry till part be conſecrated to God; who, when the holy feſtivals approach, lives chaſtely even with his own wife for ſeveral days; and who can re⯑peat the creed and the Lord's prayer. Re⯑deem then your ſouls from deſtruction, while you have the means in your power: offer pre⯑ſents and tithes to churchmen: come more frequently to church: humbly implore the pa⯑tronage of ſaints. If you obſerve theſe things, you may, in the day of judgment, go with confidence to the tribunal of the eternal Judge, and ſay, Give to us, O Lord, for we have given unto thee."’ A modern author ſubjoins a proper obſervation. ‘"We ſee here a very ample deſcription of a good Chriſtian, in which there is not the leaſt mention of the love [244] of God, reſignation to his will, obedience to his laws, nor of juſtice, benevolence, nor charity."’ Groſs ignorance and wretched ſu⯑perſtition prevailed ſo much even in the fourteenth century, that people reckoned themſelves ſecure of ſalvation, if at the day of judgment they could ſhow any connection with monks. Many at the point of death, made it their laſt requeſt, to be admitted into the mendicant order, or to be inter⯑red in their burial-place. Religion need not aſſo⯑ciate with morality, if ſuch ſilly practices be ſuf⯑ficient for obtaining the favour of God. Is this leſs abſurd than the Hindoſtan belief, That the water of the Ganges hath a ſanctifying virtue; and that thoſe who die on its banks, are not only exempted from future puniſhment, but are waft⯑ed ſtraight to paradiſe?
Forms and ceremonies are viſible acts, which make a deep impreſſion on the vulgar. Hence their influence in reaſoning and in morality, as we have ſeen in the two ſketches immediately forego⯑ing; and hence alſo their influence in religion. Forms and ceremonies are uſeful at public worſhip; but they ought not to take place of eſſentials. Peo⯑ple however, governed by what they ſee and hear, are more addicted to external acts of devotion, than to heart-worſhip, which is not known but by reflection.
It will be no excuſe for relying ſo much on forms and ceremonies, that they are innocent. In themſelves they may be innocent; but not ſo in their conſequences. For they have by ſuch reli⯑ance a violent tendency to relax the obligations of morality. Religious rites that contradict not any paſſion, are keenly embraced, and punctually per⯑formed; and men, flattering themſelves that they have thus been punctual in their duty to God, give vent to their paſſions againſt men. ‘"They [245] pay tithes of mint, and aniſe, and cummin; but omit the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faitha."’ Upon ſuch a man religion ſits extremely light. As he ſel⯑dom exerciſes any act of genuine devotion, he thinks of the Deity with eaſe and familiarity: how otherwiſe is it accountable, that the plays, term⯑ed Myſteries, could be reliſhed, where mean and perhaps diſſolute perſons are brought on the ſtage, acting Jeſus Chriſt, the Virgin Mary, and even God himſelf? Theſe divine perſons were certainly not more regarded, than the Grecian gods, who frequently made part of the Dramatis perſonae in Greek plays. Many other facts might be urged, to prove the low ebb of religion in thoſe days: I ſelect one or two, which probably will af⯑ford ſome amuſement to the reader. Bartolus, the famous lawyer, in order to ſhew the form of proceeding in a court of juſtice, imagines a pro⯑ceſs between the devil and mankind. The devil cites mankind to appear at the tribunal of Jeſus Chriſt, claiming them as belonging to him by Adam's fall. He ſwells in rage, demanding whe⯑ther any one dares appear in their behalf. Againſt the Virgin Mary, offering herſelf as their advocate, the devil makes two objections; firſt, That being the mother of the Judge, her influ⯑ence would be too great; ſecond, That a woman is debarred from being an advocate: and theſe ob⯑jections are ſupported by numberleſs quotations from the Corpus Juris. The Virgin, on her part, quotes texts permitting women to appear for wi⯑dows, orphans, and for perſons in diſtreſs. She is allowed to plead for mankind, as coming under the laſt article. The devil urges preſcription, as [246] having been in poſſeſſion of mankind ever ſince the fall. The Virgin anſwers, That a mala-fide poſſeſſor cannot acquire by preſcription. Preſcrip⯑tion being repelled, the parties go to the merits of the cauſe, which are learnedly diſcuſſed with texts from the Pandects. The memoirs of the French academy of Belles Lettersa have the following ſtory. A monk returning from a houſe which he durſt not viſit in day-light, had a river to croſs. The boat was overturned by Satan, and the monk was drowned when he was beginning to invocate the Virgin Mary. Two devils having laid hold of his ſoul, were ſtopped by two angels. ‘"My Lords,"’ ſaid the devils, ‘"true it is, and not a fable, that God died for his friends; but this monk was an enemy to God, and we are carrying him to hell."’ After much altercati⯑on, it was propoſed by the angels, to refer the diſpute to the Virgin Mary. The devils were willing to accept of God for judge, becauſe he would judge according to law. ‘"But from the Virgin Mary,"’ ſaid they, ‘"we expect no juſtice: ſhe would break to atoms every gate of hell, rather than ſuffer one to remain there a moment who pays any worſhip to her image. She may ſay, that black is white, and that puddled water is pure.—God never contradicts her. The day on which God made his mo⯑ther, was a fatal day to us."’
People who profeſs the ſame religion, and differ only in forms and ceremonies, may juſtly be compared to neighbouring ſtates, who are com⯑monly bitter enemies to each other, if they have any difference. At the ſame time, diſſocial paſ⯑ſions never rage ſo furiouſly, as under the maſk of [247] religion; for in that caſe they are held to be me⯑ritorious, as exerted in the cauſe of God. This obſervation is but too well verified in the diſputes among Chriſtians. However low religion was in the dark ages, yet men fought for forms and cere⯑monies as pro aris et focis. In the Armenian form of baptiſm, the prieſt ſays at the firſt immerſion, In name of the Father; at the ſecond, In name of the Son; at the third, In name of the Holy Ghoſt. This form is bitterly condemned by the Romiſh church, which appoints the three perſons of the Trinity to be joined in the ſame expreſſion, in to⯑ken of their union. Strahlenberg gives an ac⯑count of a Chriſtian ſect in Ruſſia, which differs from the eſtabliſhed Greek church in the follow⯑ing particulars. Firſt, In public worſhip they repeat Halleluia but twice; and it is a mortal ſin to repeat it thrice. Second, In celebrating maſs, not five but ſeven loaves ought to be uſed. Third, The croſs ſtamped upon a maſs-loaf ought to have eight corners. Fourth, In ſigning with the croſs at prayers, the end of the ring-finger muſt be joined to the end of the thumb, and the two intermediate fingers be held out at full length. How trifling are theſe differences! and yet for ſuch differences, all who diſſent from them are held unclean, and no better than Pagans: they will not eat nor drink with any of the eſtabliſhed church; and if a perſon of that church happen to ſit down in a houſe of theirs, they waſh and purify the ſeat*. There are few ſects founded [248] upon more triival differences than the Turkiſh and Perſian Mahometans. The epithets given to the Perſians by the Turks are, ‘"Forſaken of God, Abominable, Blaſphemers of the Holy Pro⯑phet;"’ and ſo bitter is their enmity to the Per⯑ſians, that the ſchools of the ſeraglio are open to young men of all nations, thoſe of Perſia alone excepted. The Perſians are held to be ſuch apoſtates from the true faith, as to be utterly paſt recovery: they receive no quarter in war, being accounted unworthy of life or ſlavery. Nor do the Perſians yield to the Turks in hatred. Whe⯑ther coffee be or be not prohibited in the Alcoran, has produced much controverſy in the Mahome⯑tan church, and conſequently much perſecuting zeal. A mufti, not fond of coffee, declared it, like wine, to have an inebriating quality, and therefore was virtually prohibited by Mahomet. Another mufti, fond of coffee for its exhilarating virtue, declared it lawful; ‘"becauſe,"’ ſaid he, ‘"all things are lawful that are not expreſsly pro⯑hibited in the Alcoran."’ The coffee-houſes in Conſtantinople, were for a long period alternate⯑ly opened and ſhut, according to the taſte of the reigning mufti; till coffee at laſt, ſurmounting all obſtacles, came to be an eſtabliſhed Mahome⯑tan liquor. Religion thus runs wild, whenever it loſes ſight of its true ends, that of worſhipping God, and that of being juſt to man. The Hin⯑dows hate the Mahometans for eating the fleſh of cows: the Mahometans hate the Hindows for eating the fleſh of ſwine. The averſion that men of the ſame religion have at each other for the moſt [249] trivial differences, converts them frequently into brutal ſavages. Suppoſe, for example, that a poor man, reduced to the extremity of hunger, makes a greedy meal of a dead horſe, a caſe ſo deplorable would wring every heart. And yet, let this be done in Lent, or on a meagre day—Behold! every zealot is inſtantly metamorphoſed into a devil incarnate. In the records of St Clau⯑de, a ſmall diſtrict of Burgundy, is engroſſed a ſentence againſt a poor gentleman named Claude Guillon. The words are, ‘"Having conſidered the proceſs, and taken advice of the doctors of law, we declare the ſaid Claude Guillon duly convicted for having carried away and boiled a piece of a dead horſe, and of having eat the ſame on the 31ſt March, being Saturday."’ And he was beheaded accordingly 28th July 1629; notwithſtanding a defence above all ex⯑ception, That he committed that irregularity to preſerve his life. How was it poſſible for the monſters to perſuade themſelves, that this ſen⯑tence was agreeable to God, who is goodneſs it⯑ſelf!
No leſs prejudicial to morality, than the rely⯑ing too much on forms and ceremonies, is the treating ſome ſins with great ſeverity; neglecting others equally heinous, or perhaps more ſo. In a book of rates for abſolution, mentioned above, no juſt diſtinction is made among ſins; ſome ve⯑nial ſins being taxed at a higher rate than many of the deepeſt dye. For example, the killing father, mother, brother, ſiſter, or wife, is tax⯑ed at five groſs; and the ſame for inceſt with a mother or ſiſter. The lying with a woman in the church is taxed at ſix groſs; and at the ſame time, abſolution for uſury is taxed at ſeven groſs, and for ſimony at no leſs than ſixteen groſs*.
[250] A maxim adopted by many pious perſons, has a ſmiling appearance, but in its conſequences is hurtful both to religion and morality; which is, That to teſtify our veneration for the Deity, and zeal for his ſervice, the performing public and private worſhip, and the fulfilling moral duties, are not alone ſufficient; that over and above we are bound to faſt, to do penance, to honour the prieſthood, and to puniſh the enemies of God, i. e. thoſe who differ from us in principles or practice. This maxim, which may be termed the doctrine of ſupererogation, is finely illuſtrated by an author mentioned above. ‘"The duties which a man performs as a friend or parent, ſeem merely owing to his benefactor or chil⯑dren; nor can he be wanting to theſe duties without breaking through all the ties of nature and morality. A ſtrong inclination may prompt him to the performance: a ſentiment of or⯑der and moral beauty joins its force to theſe natural ties: and the whole man is drawn to his duty without any effort or endeavour. Even with regard to the virtues which are more auſtere, and more founded on reflecti⯑on, ſuch as public ſpirit, filial duty, tempe⯑rance, or integrity: the moral obligation, in our apprehenſion, removes all pretence to religious merit: and the virtuous conduct is eſteemed no more than what we owe to ſocie⯑ty, and to ourſelves. In all this, a ſuperſti⯑tious man finds nothing which he has properly performed for the ſake of his Deity, or which can peculiarly recommend him to the divine favour and protection. He conſiders not, that the moſt genuine method of ſerving the Divinity is by promoting the happineſs of his creatures. He ſtill looks out for ſome more immediate ſervice of the ſupreme Being: and [251] any practice recommended to him, which ei⯑ther ſerves to no purpoſe in life, or offers the ſtrongeſt violence to his natural inclinations; that practice he will the more readily em⯑brace, on account of thoſe very circumſtan⯑ces, which ſhould make him abſolutely reject it. It ſeems the more purely religious, that it proceeds from no mixture of any other mo⯑tive or conſideration. And if for its ſake he ſacrifices much of his eaſe and quiet, his claim of merit appears ſtill to riſe upon him, in proportion to the zeal and devotion which he diſcovers. In reſtoring a loan, or paying a debt, his divinity is no wiſe beholden to him; becauſe theſe acts of juſtice are what he was bound to perform, and what many would have performed, were there no God in the univerſe. But if he faſt a day, or give him⯑ſelf a ſound whipping, this has a direct refe⯑rence, in his opinion, to the ſervice of God. No other motive could engage him to ſuch au⯑ſterities. By theſe diſtinguiſhed marks of de⯑votion, he has now acquired the divine fa⯑vour; and may expect in recompence, pro⯑tection and ſafety in this world, and eternal happineſs in the nexta."’ My yoke is eaſy, ſaith our Saviour, and my burden is light. So they really are. Every eſſential of religion is founded on our nature, and to a pure heart is pleaſant in the performance: what can be more pleaſant, than gratitude to our Maker, and obedi⯑ence to his will in comforting our fellow-crea⯑tures? But enthuſiaſts are not eaſily perſuaded, that to make ourſelves happy in the exerciſes of piety and benevolence, is the moſt acceptable ſer⯑vice to God that we can perform. In loading re⯑ligion [252] with unneceſſary articles of faith and prac⯑tice, they contradict our Saviour, by making his yoke ſevere, and his burden heavy*. Law, up⯑on Chriſtian perfection, enjoins ſuch unnatural auſterity of manners, as to be ſubverſive both of religion and morality: looſe education is not more ſo. Our paſſions, when denied their pro⯑per exerciſe, are apt to break their fetters, and to plunge us into every extravagance: like the body, which ſqueezed in one part, ſwells the more in another. In the ſame way of thinking, the pious Jeremy Taylor, treating of mortifica⯑tion, preſcribes it as the indiſpenſable duty of a Chriſtian, to give no indulgence even to the moſt innocent emotions; becauſe, ſays he, the moſt indifferent action becomes ſinful, when there is no other motive for the performance but barely its being pleaſant. Could a malevolent deity contrive any thing more ſevere againſt his vota⯑ries?
In the ſame ſpirit of ſupererogation, holidays have been multiplied without end, depriving the working poor of time, that would be more uſe⯑fully employed in providing bread for themſelves and families. Such a number of holidays, beſide contradicting Providence, which framed us more for action than contemplation, have ſeveral poiſo⯑nous effects with reſpect to morality. The mo⯑ral ſenſe has great influence on the induſtrious, who have no time for indulging their irregular ap⯑petites: the idle, on the contrary, are obvious to every temptation. Men likewiſe are apt to aſſume great merit from a rigid obſervance of [253] holidays and other ceremonies; and having thus acquired, in their opinion, the favour of God, they rely on his indulgence in other matters which they think too ſweet for ſinners.
Monaſtic inſtitutions are an improvement upon holidays: the whole life of a monk is intended to be a holiday, dedicated entirely to the ſervice of God. The idleneſs of the monaſtic ſtate a⯑mong Chriſtians, opens a wide door to immora⯑lity.
In the third ſection, penances are handled as a mode of worſhip, for obtaining pardon of ſin. But they are ſometimes ſubmitted to by the inno⯑cent, in order to procure from the Almighty ſtill more favour than innocence alone is intitled to; in which view they are evidently a work of ſu⯑pererogation. They ſeem to have no bad effect with reſpect to religion, as diſtinguiſhed from morality: the body is indeed cruciated unneceſſa⯑rily; but if enthuſiaſts voluntarily ſubmit to bodily diſtreſſes, they have themſelves only to blame. With reſpect to morality, their bad tendency is not ſlight. Thoſe who perform extraordinary acts of devotion, conceive them⯑ſelves peculiarly entitled to the favour of God. Proud of his favour, they attach themſelves to him alone, and turn indifferent about every other duty. The favourite of a terreſtrial potentate, aſſumes authority; and takes liberties that pri⯑vate perſons dare not venture upon: ſhall a fa⯑vourite of Heaven be leſs indulged? The Fa⯑quirs in Hindoſtan ſubmit to dreadful penances; and, holding themſelves ſecure of God's favour, they are altogether indifferent about the duty they owe to their neighbour. So much are they above common decency, as to go about naked, not even concealing what modeſty forbids us to expoſe. The penances enjoined in the Romiſh [254] church, ſuch as faſting and flagellation, have evidently the ſame bad tendency*. With re⯑ſpect to faſting in particular, to what good pur⯑poſe it can ſerve, except to gluttons, is not rea⯑dily conceived. Temperance in eating and drink⯑ing is eſſential to health: too much or too little are equally noxious, though their effects are dif⯑ferent. Faſting therefore ought never to be en⯑joined to the temperate as a religious duty, be⯑cauſe it cannot be acceptable to a benevolent Deity. Liſten to a great prophet on that ſub⯑ject. ‘"Behold, ye faſt for ſtrife and debate, and to ſmite with the fiſt of wickedneſs; ye ſhall not faſt as ye do this day, to make your voice to be heard on high. Is it ſuch a faſt that I have choſen? a day for a man to afflict his ſoul? Is it to bow down his head as a bulruſh, and to ſpread ſackcloth and aſhes un⯑der him? Wilt thou call this a faſt, and an acceptable day to the Lord? Is not this the faſt that I have choſen? to looſe the bands of wickedneſs, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppreſſed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are caſt out, to thy houſe? when thou ſeeſt the naked, that thou cover him, and that thou hide not thyſelf from thine own fleſha?"’
[255] The moſt extraordinary penance of all, is ce⯑libacy, conſidered as a religious duty. Many fa⯑thers of the church declare againſt matrimony. St. Jerom in particular ſays, That the end of matrimony is eternal death; that the earth in⯑deed is filled by it, but heaven by virginity. The intemperate zeal of many primitive Chriſti⯑ans led them to abſtain from matrimony, and even from conjugal careſſes, if they had the misfor⯑tune to be married; believing that the carnal ap⯑petite is inconſiſtent with pure religion. Edward the confeſſor was ſainted, for no better reaſon than the abſtaining from matrimonial duties. Jovinian, in the fourth century, taught, that all who obſerve the laws of piety and virtue laid down in the goſpel, have an equal title to happi⯑neſs in another life: conſequently, that thoſe who paſs their days in celibacy and mortification, are in no reſpect more acceptable to God than thoſe who live virtuouſly in marriage without mortification. He publiſhed his opinions in a book, againſt which Jerom wrote a bitter and abuſive treatiſe, ſtill extant. Theſe opinions were condemned by the church, and by St. Am⯑broſe, in a council at Milan; and Jovinian was baniſhed by the Emperor Honorius. Such ridi⯑culous ſelf-denial was not confined to Chriſtians. Strabo mentions a ſect among the Thracians, who made a vow of perpetual virginity; and were much reſpected on that account. Garci⯑laſſo mentions virgins in Peru conſecrated to the ſun: a veſtal guilty of frailty was buried alive, her lover hanged, and the inhabitants of the town where ſhe lived put to the ſword. Among all the abſurd acts of mortification, the preſent af⯑fords the ſtrongeſt inſtance of ſuperſtition tri⯑umphing over common ſenſe; for what can be more inconſiſtent with common ſenſe, not to talk [256] of religion, than an endeavour to put an end to the human ſpecies? Some glimpſes of reaſon have abated the zeal of enthuſiaſts for celebacy; but have not totally extirpated it, for celibacy of the clergy remains to this day a law in the Ro⯑miſh church. It cannot however ſeriouſly be thought the will of our benevolent God, that his prieſts ſhould be denied the exerciſe of natural powers, beſtowed on all for a moſt valuable pur⯑poſe. This impious reſtraint, which contradicts the great law of Increaſe and multiply, has opened the door to groſs debauchery in the paſtors of the Romiſh church, though eccleſiaſtics ought of all men to be the moſt circumſpect in their con⯑duct. Men reſtrained from what is neceſſary and proper, are more prone than others to break out into groſs irregularities*. Marriage is warm⯑ly recommended in the laws of Zoroaſter. Chil⯑dren are ſaid to be a bridge that conducts men to heaven; and a man who has no children, is held to be under the power of Ahriman. The prayer of a prieſt who has no children, is held diſagree⯑able to Ormuſd.
The celibacy of the clergy was countenanced by the Pope; and enforced from a political con⯑ſideration, [257] That it united the whole clergy into one firm body under his ſpiritual Majeſty. How ſhort-ſighted is man? It was juſtly eſteemed at the time to be the corner-ſtone of Papal power; and yet became the chief cauſe of its downfall. Celibacy precipitated the Romiſh clergy into adultery, fornication, cunning, diſſimulation, and every ſecret vice. Will men of ſuch man⯑ners be liſtened to, when they preach purity to their hearers? There was no medium, but ei⯑ther to reform their own manners, or to give every indulgence to the laity. But the ignorance and ſuperſtition of the latter, rendered the for⯑mer ſecure in their own opinion. The reſtora⯑tion of learning broke the charm. Men begin⯑ning to think for themſelves, were provoked at the diſſolute lives of their paſtors, and raiſed a loud cry againſt them, not yet thinking of their doctrines. Reformers were burnt as heretics; and clergymen were held to be emiſſaries from Satan, to eſtabliſh his throne upon earth. Knox, that violent reformer, believed ſeriouſly, that Cardinal Beaton was a conjured enemy to Chriſt Jeſus. Providence brings good out of ill. Had not the clergy been diſſolute, poor Chriſtians might have laboured under ignorance and eccleſi⯑aſtical thraldom to this hour. Our reformers, beginning with their paſtors, extended inſenſibly their hatred to the doctrines taught by their paſ⯑tors. Every article of faith was ſifted: the chaff was ſeparated from the corn; and a reformation was eſtabliſhed upon the ſcriptures, rejecting every innovation of the Romiſh church.
There is not mentioned in hiſtory a more impu⯑dent attack upon moral principles, than a privilege aſſumed by the Biſhop of Rome, to diſengage men from their oaths and promiſes: it is not a greater [258] ſtretch to diſengage them from every duty, whe⯑ther of morality or of religion. The barons of Va⯑lentia, dreading a perſecution againſt the induſtri⯑ous Moors, their tenants, obtained the following clauſe to be in their king's coronation-oath: ‘"That he ſhould not expel the Moriſcos, nor force them to be baptized; that he ſhould never deſire to be relieved from the oath by a diſpenſation from the Pope, nor accept a diſpenſation if offe⯑red."’ The Emperor Charles V. took this oath ſolemnly in preſence of his nobles; and yet accepted a diſpenſation from the Pope, abſolving him from the oath, and from the guilt of perjury in breaking it. Auguſtus King of Poland, in the treaty of Altramſtadt, renounced the kingdom of Poland to his competitor Staniſlaus. The defeat of the King of Sweden at Poltowa, was an invi⯑ting opportunity to renew his pretenſions. A ſo⯑lemn treaty ſtood in his way; but the Pope re⯑moved that obſtacle, by annulling the treaty, and ſetting him at liberty. The Pope has been known even to beſtow that wonderful privilege upon others. Pope Paſcal II. having with a ſo⯑lemn oath renounced the right of inveſtitures, empowered the cardinals to declare his oath null. Biſhops alſo, imitating their ſuperior, have aſſu⯑med the privilege of diſpenſing with moral du⯑ties. Inſtances are not rare, of curates being au⯑thorized by their biſhop to entertain concubines, paying for each a regular tax of a crown yearly. Nay, in ſome provincial ſynods, they are enjoin⯑ed to keep concubines, in order to prevent ſcan⯑dal. Common proſtitutes, licenſed in the city of Leghorn, have a church peculiar to themſelves, and muſt not enter into any other. They follow their trade with the utmoſt freedom; except in paſſion-week, during which they muſt forbear ſinning, under pain of baniſhment.
[259] The power of beſtowing kingdoms, aſſumed by the biſhop of Rome, was an encroachment on the rules of juſtice, no leſs bold. Chriſtian prin⯑ces, not many ages ago, eſteemed the Pope's gift to be their beſt title of property. In the year 1346, the Venetians requeſted the Pope's per⯑miſſion to carry on commerce in Aſia, and to purchaſe there pepper and cinnamon. The Pope not only granted their requeſt, but pronounced anathemas upon any who ſhould dare to inter⯑fere in that commerce. Ferdinand and Iſabella of Spain, applied to Pope Alexander VI. to veſt in them the property of America, diſcovered un⯑der their auſpices by Columbus. The Pope ha⯑ving formerly made a grant to the kings of Por⯑tugal, of their diſcoveries in the Eaſt Indies, both grants were held ſacred; and it came to be ſtre⯑nuouſly diſputed, under which of the grants the Molucca iſlands were comprehended. Both grants proceed upon a narrative, of the power beſtow⯑ed by Almighty God on the Pope as ſucceſſor to St Peter and vicar of Chriſt. To imagine, that the Almighty would beſtow ſuch powers on the Biſhop of Rome, or on any human being, ſhews groſs ignorance of the common rights of man⯑kind, and of the government of Providence.
The groſſeſt of all deviations, not only from ſound morality but from pure religion, and the moſt extenſive in its baneful effects, is a doctrine embraced by eſtabliſhed churches, not many ex⯑cepted, That becauſe heretics are odious in the ſight of God, it is the duty of the orthodox to extirpate them root and branch. Obſerve the conſequence: people who differ from the eſta⯑bliſhed church, are held to be obſtinate ſinners, deſerving puniſhment here as well as hereafter. The religion of every country is changeable; and the religion at preſent dominant may ſoon be [260] under depreſſion; which of courſe ſubjects all mankind to the rigour of perſecution. An in⯑vention more effectual for extirpating the hu⯑man race, is not within the reach of human pow⯑ers: the horror of human ſacrifices is as nothing in compariſon.
The old Romans, far from having any notion of perſecution, adopted the gods of every nation they conquered. A learned writera obſerves, that as the number of their gods increaſed with their conqueſts, it is poſſible that they might have worſhipped all the gods in the world. Their be⯑lief in tutelar deities produced that effect. Titus Livius mentions a ſect of Bacchanals that ſpread through Italy. They performed their ceremonies during night, men and women mix⯑ing in the dark after intemperate eating and drink⯑ing. Never did wicked wretches deſerve more exemplary puniſhment; yet liſten to the follow⯑ing decree of the Roman ſenate, breathing the true ſpirit of toleration. ‘"Ne qua Bacchana⯑lia Romae, neve in Italia eſſent. Si quis tale ſacrum, ſolenne, et neceſſarium duceret, nec ſine religione et piaculo ſe id omittere poſſe; apud praetorem urbanum profiteretur; praetor ſenatum conſuleret. Si ei permiſſum eſſet, quum in ſenatu centum non minus eſſent; ita id ſacrum faceret, dum ne plus quinque ſacri⯑ficio intereſſent; neu qua pecunia communis, neu quis magiſter ſacrorum, aut ſacerdos eſ⯑ſet*."’ The Jews however were prone to [261] perſecution; for though they conſidered the Su⯑preme Being as their tutelar deity, yet the malig⯑nity of their nature prevailed to make them hold in abhorrence the worſhip of every other god. Even among themſelves, they were abundantly diſpoſed to war; and nothing kept within bounds the Phariſees, the Sadduces, and the Eſſenes, their three ſects, but terror of the Roman pow⯑er. The Chriſtian religion implies toleration in its very nature and principles; but being corrup⯑ted by ignorance, intereſt, and ſuperſtition, it became prone to perſecution, above all others. Chriſtian ſects were enflamed againſt each other to a degree of brutality; the moſt oppoſite to peace and brotherly love, inculcated in the goſ⯑pel. It was propagated by the orthodox, that Arius expired in a common jakes, and that his entrails burſt out. The ſame is related of Hune⯑ric King of the Vandals, a zealous Arian; with the following addition, that being poſſeſſed with the devil, whom he had glutted with the blood of many martyrs, he tore his fleſh off with his teeth, and ended his wretched life in the moſt excruciating, though juſtly deſerved, torments. The falſehoods every where ſpread during the fourteenth century againſt the Jews, ſuch as their poiſoning the public fountains, killing Chriſtian [262] infants, and drinking their blood, with many other falſehoods of the ſame ſtamp, were invent⯑ed and greedily ſwallowed through the influence of religious hatred. The greater part of perſe⯑cutions have been occaſioned in the ſame man⯑ner; for men are not ſo deſperately wicked, as to approve of perſecution, unleſs when blinded by intemperate zeal. The ſame religious hatred produced the aſſaſſination of the Duke of Guiſe, and of two Henrys, Kings of France; produced the gun-powder plot; and produced the moſt horrid deed that ever was perpetrated among men, the maſſacre of St. Bartholomew*.
No falſe principle in religion has ſhed more in⯑nocent, or rather virtuous blood, than that of perſecuting heretics; i. e. thoſe who differ in any article from the religion eſtabliſhed by law. The doctrine of burning heretics, is in effect the profeſſing to burn men highly virtuous; for they muſt be ſo in an eminent degree, who ſubmit to be burnt alive, rather than be guilty even of diſſimulation. The Mahometan practice of con⯑verting people by the ſword, if not more rati⯑onal, is at leaſt more manly. Louis IX. of France, one of its beſt princes, would have been a greater bleſſing to his people, had he been leſs [263] pious: he had an implacable averſion to here⯑tics, againſt whom he thought it more proper to employ racks and gibbets, than argument and perſuaſion. Torquemada, that infernal inquiſi⯑tor of Spain, brought into the inquiſition, in the ſpace of fourteen years, no fewer than 80,000 perſons; of whom 6000 were condemned to the flames, and burnt alive with the greateſt pomp and exultation. Of that vaſt number, there was perhaps not a ſingle perſon, who was not more pure in religion, as well as in morals, than their outrageous perſecutor. Hunter a young man about nineteen years of age, was one of the unhappy victims to the zeal of Queen Mary of England for Popery. Having been inadvertently betrayed by a prieſt to deny tranſubſtantiation, he abſcon⯑ded, to keep out of harm's way. Bonner, that arch-hangman of Popery, threatened ruin to the father, if he did not deliver up the young man. Hunter, hearing of his father's danger, made his appearance; and was burnt alive, inſtead of be⯑ing rewarded for his filial piety. A woman of Guernſey was brought to the ſtake, without re⯑gard to her big belly; which burſting by the tor⯑ture, ſhe was delivered in the midſt of the flames. One of the guards ſnatched the infant from the fire: but the magiſtrate who attended the execution, ordered it to be thrown back; be⯑ing reſolved, he ſaid, that nothing ſhould ſur⯑vive which ſprung from a parent ſo obſtinately heretical. Father Paul (Council of Trent, book 5.) computes, that in the Netherlands alone, from the time that the edict of Charles V. was promulgated againſt the reformers, fifty thouſand perſons were hanged, beheaded, buried alive, or burnt, on account of religion. Some Faquirs, crazed with opium and fanaticiſm, have been known with poiſoned daggers to fall upon [264] uncircumciſed Europeans, and to put every one to death whom they could maſter. In the laſt century, a Faquir at Surate murdered, within the ſpace of a minute, ſeventeen Dutch ſailors with ſeventeen ſtabs of a dagger. We think with horror of human ſacrifices among the ancient Pa⯑gans; and yet we behold them every day among Chriſtians, rendered ſtill more horrid by the moſt atrocious torments that religious hatred can de⯑viſe.
The great motive to ſuch cruelties, is the ſu⯑perſtitious and abſurd notion, that heretics are God's enemies; which makes it thought an ac⯑ceptable ſervice to God, not only to perſecute them by fire and ſword in this world, but to deli⯑ver them over to Satan in the world to come. Another circumſtance enflames religious hatred; which is, that neighbours are either intimate friends or bitter enemies. This holds with a ſlight variation in ſects of the ſame religion: however minute their differences be, they can⯑not be intimate friends; and therefore are bitter enemies: the nearer they approach to uniſon, if not entirely concordant, the greater in proportion is their mutual natred. Such hatred, ſubduing the meek ſpirit of Chriſtianity, is an additional cauſe for perſecution. Blind zeal for what is be⯑lieved to be the only true religion, never diſco⯑vers error nor innocence in thoſe who differ, but perverſeneſs and criminal obſtinacy. Two reli⯑gions totally different, like two countries in op⯑poſite parts of the globe, produce no mutual enmity. At the ſiege of Conſtantinople by the Turks, ann. 1453, the Emperor, in order to procure aſſiſtance from the princes of the Latin church, ordered maſs to be celebrated in one of his churches according to the form uſed in Rome. The people with great indignation proteſted, [265] that they would rather ſee the Turks in their churches, than the hat of a cardinal.
The hiſtory of the Waldenſes, tho' well known, cannot be too often repeated. In the twelfth cen⯑tury, a merchant of Lyons, named Peter Valdo, diſſatisfied with the pomp and ceremonies of the Romiſh church, ill ſuited, in his opinion, to the humility of a Chriſtian, retired to a deſert in the high country of Provence, with ſeveral poor peo⯑ple his diſciples. There he became their ſpiritu⯑al guide, inſtructing them in certain doctrines, the ſame that were afterward adopted by the Pro⯑teſtants. Their inceſſant labour ſubdued the bar⯑ren ſoil, and prepared it for grain as well as for paſture. The rent which in time they were ena⯑bled to pay for land that afforded none originally, endeared them to their landlords. In 250 years, they multiplied to the number of 18,000, occu⯑pying thirty villages, beſide hamlets, the work of their own hands. Prieſts they had none, nor any diſputes about religion: neither had they occa⯑ſion for a court of juſtice, as brotherly love did not ſuffer them to go to law: they worſhipped God in their own plain way, and their innocence was ſecured by inceſſant labour. They had long enjoyed the ſweets of peace and mutual affection, when the reformers of Germany and Geneva ſent miniſters among them; which unhappily laid them open to religious hatred, the moſt unrelent⯑ing of all furies. In the year 1540, the parlia⯑ment of Provence condemned nineteen of them to be burnt for hereſy, their trees to be rooted up, and their houſes to be razed to the ground. The Waldenſes, terrified at this ſentence, applied in a body to Cardinal Sadolet, biſhop of Carpentras; who received them kindly, and obtained from Francis I. of France, a pardon for the perſons under ſentence of death, on condition of abjur⯑ing [266] hereſy. The matter lay over five years; when the parliament, irritated at them for perſe⯑vering in their tenets, prevailed on the King to withdraw his pardon. The ſentence was execut⯑ed with great rigour; and the parliament, laying hold of that opportunity, broke through every reſtraint of law, and commenced a violent perſe⯑cution againſt the whole nation. The ſoldiers began with maſſacring old men, women, and children, all having fled who were able to fly; and proceeded to burn their houſes, barns, and corn. There remained in the town of Cabriere ſixty men and thirty women; who having ſurren⯑dered upon promiſe of life, were butchered each of them without mercy. Some women who had taken refuge in a church, were dragged out, and burnt alive. Twenty-two villages were reduced to aſhes; and that populous and flouriſhing di⯑ſtrict, became once more a deſert.
To conceive this horrid ſcene in all its defor⯑mity, the people perſecuted ought to be compar⯑ed with the clergy their perſecutors; for the civil magiſtrate was the hand only that executed their vengeance: on the one ſide, an induſtrious peo⯑ple, pure in their morals, and no leſs pure in their religion: on the other, proud pampered prieſts, abandoned without ſhame to every wick⯑edneſs, impure in their morals, and ſtill more impure in their religion—the world never furniſh⯑ed ſuch another contraſt. Had the ſcene been reverſed, to make theſe wretches ſuffer perſecu⯑tion from the Waldenſes—but that people were too upright and too religious for being perſecutors. The manners of the Chriſtian clergy in general, before the Reformation, enlivens the contraſt. The doctrine promulgated during the dark times of Chriſtianity, That God is a mercenary being; and that every perſon, however wicked, may ob⯑tain [267] pardon of his ſins by money, made riches flow into the hands of eccleſiaſtics in a plentiful ſtream. And riches had the ſame effect upon the Chriſtian clergy that they have upon all men, which is, to produce pride, ſenſuality, and pro⯑fligacy: theſe again produced diſſipation of mo⯑ney, which prompted avarice, and every inven⯑tion for recruiting exhauſted treaſures*. Even as early as the eighth century, the Chriſtian clergy, tempted by opulence, abandoned them⯑ſelves to pleaſure, without moderation; and far exceeded the laity in luxury, gluttony, and luſt. When ſuch were the paſtors, what muſt have been the flock! Rejoice, O Scotland, over the poverty and temperance of thy paſtors. During that period, the clergy could read, and, like parrots, they could mumble prayers in Latin: in every other reſpect, they rivalled the laity in ignorance. They were indeed more cunning than the laity; and underſtood their intereſt better, if to covet riches at the expence of probity, de⯑ſerve that name. Three articles were eſtabliſhed that made religion an eaſy ſervice. Firſt, That faith is the eſſence of religion, without regard to good works; and hence the neceſſity of being ſtrictly orthodox, which the church only could determine. Second, Religious worſhip was re⯑duced to a number of external ceremonies and forms, which, being declared ſufficient for ſalva⯑tion, abſolved Chriſtians from every moral duty. [268] Remark, that a prieſt is always the chief perſon in ceremonial worſhip. The third article, That God is a mercenary being, is mentioned above, with its neceſſary conſequences. Theſe articles brought about a total neglect, both in clergy and laity, not only of morality, but of every eſſen⯑tial religious duty. In fine, there never was a religion that deviated more from juſt principles, than that profeſſed by Chriſtians during the dark ages. Perſecution reached none but the ſincerely pious and virtuous. What a glorious tolerating ſentiment doth Arnobiusa throw out, and what profuſion of blood would have been prevented, had it been adopted by all Chriſtians! ‘"Da ve⯑niam, Rex ſumme, tuos perſequentibus famu⯑los: et quod tuae benignitatis eſt proprium, fu⯑gientibus ignoſce tui nominis et religionis cul⯑tum. Non eſt mirum, ſi ignoraris: majoris eſt admirationis, ſi ſciaris*."’ The following parable againſt perſecution was communicated to me by Dr. Franklin of Philadelphia, a man who makes a great figure in the learned world: and who would make a ſtill greater figure for benevo⯑lence and candour, were virtue in this declining age as much regarded as knowledge. ‘"And it came to paſs after theſe things, that Abraham ſat in the door of his tent, about the going down of the ſun. And behold a man bent with age, coming from the way of the wilder⯑neſs [269] leaning on a ſtaff. And Abraham aroſe, and met him, and ſaid unto him, Turn in, I pray thee, and waſh thy feet, and tarry all night; and thou ſhalt ariſe early in the morn⯑ing, and go on thy way. And the man ſaid, Nay; for I will abide under this tree. But Abraham preſſed him greatly: ſo he turned, and they went into the tent: and Abraham baked unleavened bread, and they did eat. And when Abraham ſaw that the man bleſſed not God, he ſaid unto him, Wherefore doſt thou not worſhip the moſt high God, creator of heaven and earth? And the man anſwered and ſaid, I do not worſhip thy God, neither do I call upon his name; for I have made to myſelf a God, which abideth always in mine houſe, and provideth me with all things. And Abraham's zeal was kindled againſt the man, and he aroſe, and fell upon him, and drove him forth with blows into the wilderneſs. And God called unto Abraham, ſaying, Abraham, where is the ſtranger? And Abraham anſwer⯑ed and ſaid, Lord, he would not worſhip thee, neither would he call upon thy name; there⯑fore have I driven him out from before my face into the wilderneſs. And God ſaid, Have I borne with him theſe hundred ninety and eight years, and nouriſhed him, and clothed him, notwithſtanding his rebellion againſt me; and couldſt not thou, who art thyſelf a ſinner, bear with him one night?"’ The hiſtorical ſtyle of the Old Teſtament is here finely imitat⯑ed; and the moral muſt ſtrike every one who is not ſunk in ſtupidity and ſuperſtition. Were it really a chapter of Geneſis, one is apt to think, that perſecution could never have ſhown a bare face among Jews or Chriſtians. But alas! that is a vain thought. Such a paſſage in the Old [270] Teſtament, would avail as little againſt the ran⯑corous paſſions of men, as the following paſſages in the New Teſtament, tho' perſecution cannot be condemned in terms more explicit. ‘"Him that is weak in the faith, receive you, but not to doubtful diſputations. For one believ⯑eth that he may eat all things: another, who is weak, eateth herbs. Let not him that eat⯑eth, deſpiſe him that eateth not; and let not him which eateth not, judge him that eateth. Who art thou that judgeſt another man's ſer⯑vant? to his own maſter he ſtandeth or falleth. One man eſteemeth one day above another: another eſteemeth every day alike. Let eve⯑ry man be fully perſuaded in his own mind. But why doſt thou judge thy brother? or why doſt thou ſet at nought thy brother? for we ſhall all ſtand before the judgment-ſeat of Chriſt, every one to give an account of him⯑ſelf to God. I know, that there is nothing unclean of itſelf: but to him that eſteemeth any thing unclean, to him it is unclean. The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteouſneſs, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghoſt. Let us therefore follow after the things which make for peace, and things wherewith one may edify anothera."’ Our Saviour himſelf declared againſt perſecution in the moſt expreſs terms. The Jews and Samari⯑tans were of the ſame religion; but ſome trivial differences in the ceremonial part of worſhip, rendered them odious to each other. Our Savi⯑our being refuſed lodging in a village of Samaria, becauſe he was travelling to Jeruſalem, his diſci⯑ples James and John ſaid, ‘"Lord, wilt thou that [271] we command fire to come down from heaven, and conſume them, even as Elias did?"’ But he rebuked them, and ſaid, ‘"The Son of man is not come to deſtroy means lives, but to ſave themb."’
It gives me real concern, that even the hot fire of perſecution, did not altogether purify our Reformed clergy from that ſatanical ſpirit. No ſooner were the Diſſenters ſettled in New Eng⯑land, where they fled to avoid perſecution, than they ſet on foot a perſecution againſt the Quakers, no leſs furious than what they themſelves had ſuffered at home. Nor did the Reformed clergy in Scotland loſe ſight of that magiſterial autho⯑rity, which had been aſſumed by their predeceſ⯑ſors of the Romiſh church, on the ridiculous pre⯑text, of being ambaſſadors to men from Jeſus Chriſt. Upon a repreſentation, ann. 1646, from the commiſſion of the kirk of Scotland, James Bell and Colin Campbell, bailies of Glaſgow, were committed to priſon by the parliament, merely for having ſaid, that kirk-men meddled too much in civil matters. Could a deſpotic prince have exerted a more arbitrary act? but the church was all-powerful in thoſe days*.
[272] I would do juſtice to every church, not except⯑ing that of Rome; and it is doing that church no more but juſtice to acknowledge, that the ſpirit of perſecution was not more eminent in it, than zeal for making converts. The former is retiring out of the world; and I wiſh it moſt profound reſt, never again to revive. People begin to be aſhamed of it, as of a garment long out of fa⯑ſhion. Let the other continue for amuſement: it is innocent; and if it do no good, it is not productive of ſo much harm.
The deſire of making converts proceeds from two different cauſes. In ſuperſtitious zealots, it proceeds from an opinion, that all who differ from them are in the road to damnation: for which reaſon, there is a rage of making converts among Roman Catholics; who, without ceremony, de⯑liver over to the flames of hell, every perſon who is not of their communion The other cauſe is more natural: every man thinks himſelf in the right, eſpecially in matters of conſequence; and for that reaſon, he is happy to find others of his opiniona. With reſpect to the firſt cauſe, I beg attention to the following conſiderations; not with any hope of converting zealots, but to pre⯑vent, if poſſible, others from becoming ſuch. In none of the works of God is variety more hap⯑pily blended with uniformity, than in the forma⯑tion of man. Uniformity prevails in the human face with reſpect to eyes, noſe, mouth, and other capital parts: variety prevails in the expreſſions of theſe parts, ſerving to diſtinguiſh one perſon from another, without hazard of error. In like manner, the minds of men are uniform with re⯑ſpect to their paſſions and principles; but the va⯑rious [273] tones and expreſſions of theſe, form diffe⯑rent characters without end. A face deſtitute of a noſe or of a mouth, is monſtrous: a mind de⯑ſtitute of the moral ſenſe, or of a ſenſe of reli⯑gion, is no leſs ſo. But variety of expreſſion in different faces, is agreeable: becauſe we reliſh variety; and a ſimilar variety in the expreſſions or tones of paſſion, ought to be equally agreeable. Endleſs differences in temper, in taſte, and in mental faculties, that of reaſon in particular, produce neceſſarily variety in ſentiment and in opinion. Can God be diſpleaſed with ſuch vari⯑ety, when it is his own work? He requires no uniformity except with reſpect to an upright mind and clear conſcience, which are indiſpenſable. Here at the ſame time is diſcovered an illuſtrious final cauſe. Different countenances in the hu⯑man race, not only diſtinguiſh one perſon from another, but promote ſociety, by aiding us to chuſe a friend, an aſſociate, a partner for life. Differences in opinion and ſentiment, have ſtill more beneficial effects: they rouſe the attention, give exerciſe to the underſtanding, and ſharpen the reaſoning faculty. With reſpect to religion in particular, perfect uniformity, which furniſh⯑eth no ſubject for thinking nor for reaſoning, would produce languor in divine worſhip, and make us ſink into cold indifference. How fran⯑tic then is the rage of making proſelytes? Let every man enjoy his native liberty, of thinking as well as of acting; free to act as he pleaſes, provided he obey the rules of morality; equally free to think as he pleaſes, provided he obey the great God as his maker and maſter, and acknow⯑ledge the neceſſary connection of religion with morality. Strict uniformity in other matters, may be compared to a ſpring-day, calm and ſe⯑rene; neither ſo hot as to make us drop a gar⯑ment, [274] nor ſo cold as to require an addition; no wind to ruffle, nor rain to make ſhelter neceſſary. We enjoy the ſweet ſcene for a moment: we walk, we ſit, we muſe;—but ſoon fall aſleep. Agitation is the element of man, and the life of ſociety. Let us not attempt to correct the works of God: the attempt will betray us into abſurd errors. This doctrine cannot be better illuſtra⯑ted than by a converſation, reported by the Jeſuit Tachard, between the king of Siam, and a French ambaſſador, who, in his maſter's name, urged that king to embrace the Chriſtian religion. ‘"I am ſurpriſed,"’ ſaid his Majeſty of Siam, ‘"that the King of France, my good friend, ſhould intereſt himſelf ſo warmly in what con⯑cerns God only. He hath given to his crea⯑tures different minds and different inclinations, which naturally lead them two differ in opinion. We admire variety in the material world: why not equally admire it in matters of religi⯑on? Have we not then reaſon to believe, that God takes pleaſure in all the different forms of worſhip? Had it been the intention of God to produce uniformity in religion, he would have formed all men with the ſame mind."’ Bernier introduces ſome Gentiles of Hindoſtan defending their religion much in the ſame manner: ‘"That they did not pretend their law to be univerſal; that they did not hold ours to be falſe, as, for aught they knew, it might be a good law for us; and that God probably made many roads to heaven."’
With reſpect to the other cauſe above mentio⯑ned, viz. the deſire of putting people in the right road. To reaſon others into our religious principles, is natural; but it is not always pru⯑dent. I wiſh my neighbour to be of my opinion, becauſe I think my opinion right: but is there no [275] danger of undermining his religious principles, without eſtabliſhing better in their ſtead? Ought I not to reſtrain my deſire of making converts, when the attempt may poſſibly reduce them to abandon religion altogether, as a matter of utter uncertainty? If a man of clear underſtanding has by ſome unhappy means been led into error, that man may be ſet right by fair reaſoning: but beware of endeavouring to convert people of low parts, who are indebted for their creed to parents, to education, or to example: it is ſafer to let them reſt as they are.
At any rate, let us never attempt to gain pro⯑ſelytes by rewards nor by terror: what other ef⯑fect can ſuch motives produce, but diſſimulation and lying, parents of every ſecret crime? The Empreſs of Ruſſia uſes a method for converting her Pagan ſubjects of Kamſkatka, no leſs agree⯑able than effectual; which is, to exempt from taxes for ten years, ſuch of them as profeſs the Chriſtian religion. This practice may be politi⯑cal; but it tends not to advance religion, and is deſtructive of morality. Terror, on the other hand, may be equally effectual, but is not alto⯑gether ſo agreeable. The people of Rum, one of the Hebrides, were Papiſts till the beginning of the preſent century, when in one day they were all proſelyted to the Proteſtant faith. Ma⯑clean of Coll, their chieftain, went to the iſland with a Proteſtant miniſter, and ordered all the inhabitants to appear on Sunday at public worſhip. They came, but refuſed to hear a Proteſtant mi⯑niſter. The chieftain reaſoned with them: but finding that his reaſonings made no impreſſion, he laid hold of the moſt forward; and having made a deep impreſſion on him with his cane, puſhed him into the church. The reſt followed like meek lambs; and from that day have conti⯑nued [276] firm Proteſtants. The Proteſtantiſm of Rum is ſtyled by their Popiſh neighbours, the faith of the yellow ſtick.
To apply rewards, terror, or any other means, for making proſelytes, except fair reaſoning, ap⯑pears to me a ſtrange perverſion. Can God be pleaſed with ſuch means, or can any rational man juſtify them? What then ſhould move any one to put them in practice? I ſhould be utterly at a loſs to anſwer the queſtion, but for a fact men⯑tioned more than once above, that the rude and illiterate, judge by ſight only, and not by reflec⯑tion, which makes them lay weight on the exter⯑nal viſible act, without thinking of intention, becauſe it is not viſible. In truth, the bulk of mankind reſt upon the external profeſſion of reli⯑gion: they never dip into the heart, nor conſider how that ſtands affected. What elſe is it but the external act merely, that moves the Romiſh miſ⯑ſionaries to baptize the infants of ſavages even at the moment of expiring? which they proſecute with much pious ardour. Their zeal merits ap⯑plauſe, but by no means their judgment. Can any rational perſon ſeriouſly believe, that the dip⯑ping a ſavage or an infant in water, will make ei⯑ther of them a Chriſtian, or that the want of this ceremony will precipitate them into hell? The Lithuanians, before their converſion to Chriſtia⯑nity worſhipped ſerpents, every family entertain⯑ing one as a houſehold god. Sigiſmundus, in his commentaries of Muſcovy, reports the fol⯑lowing incident. A converted Chriſtian having perſuaded a neighbour to follow his example, and in token of his converſion to kill his ſerpent, was ſurpriſed at his next viſit, to find his convert in the deepeſt melancholy, bitterly lamenting that he had murdered his god, and that the moſt dreadful calamities would befal him. Was this [277] perſon a Chriſtian more than nominally? At the end of the laſt century when Kempfer was in Ja⯑pan, there remained but about fifty Japan Chri⯑ſtians, who were locked up in priſon for life. Theſe poor people knew no more of the Chriſti⯑an religion, but the names only of our Saviour and of the Virgin Mary; and yet ſo zealous Chriſtians were they, as rather to die miſerably in jail, than to renounce the name of Chriſt, and be ſet at liberty.
I cannot with ſatisfaction conclude this ſketch, without congratulating my preſent countrymen of Britain, upon their knowledge of the intimate connection that true religion has with morality. May the importance of that connection, always at heart, excite us to govern every action of our lives by the united principles of morality and re⯑ligion:—what a happy people would we be!
Appendix A APPENDIX.
Sketches concerning SCOTLAND.
[278]Appendix A.1 SKETCH I.
SCOTCH ENTAILS conſidered in Moral and Political views.
MAN is by nature a hoarding animal; and to ſecure to men what they acquire by honeſt induſtry, the ſenſe of property is made a branch of human naturea. During the in⯑fancy of nations, when artificial wants are un⯑known, the hoarding appetite makes no figure. The uſe of money produced a great change in the human heart. Money having at command the goods of fortune, introduced inequality of rank, luxury, and artificial wants without end. No bounds are ſet to hoarding, where an appetite for artificial wants is indulged: love of money be⯑comes [279] the ruling paſſion: it is coveted by many in order to be hoarded; and means are abſurdly converted into an end.
The ſenſe of property, weak among ſavages, ripens gradually till it arrives at maturity in po⯑liſhed nations. In every ſtage of the progreſs, ſome new power is added to property; and now for centuries, men have enjoyed every power over their own goods, that a rational mind can deſirea: they have the free diſpoſal during life; and even after death by naming an heir. Theſe powers are ſufficient for accompliſhing e⯑very rational purpoſe: they are ſufficient for commerce, and they are ſufficient for benevo⯑lence. But the artificial wants of men are bound⯑leſs: not content with the full enjoyment of their property during life, nor with the proſpect of its being enjoyed by a favourite heir, they are anxi⯑ouſly bent to preſerve it to themſelves for ever. A man who has amaſſed a great eſtate in land, is miſerable at the proſpect of being obliged to quit his hold: to ſooth his diſeaſed fancy, he makes a deed ſecuring it for ever to certain heirs; who muſt without end bear his name, and pre⯑ſerve his eſtate entire. Death, it is true, muſt at laſt ſeparate him from his idol: it is ſome con⯑ſolation, however, that his will governs and gives law to every ſubſequent proprietor. How repugnant to the frail ſtate of man, are ſuch ſwollen conceptions! Upon theſe however are founded entails, which have prevailed in many parts of the world, and unhappily at this day in⯑feſt Scotland. Did entails produce no other harm but the gratification of a diſtempered appetite for property, they might be endured, though far [280] from deſerving approbation: but, like other tranſgreſſions of nature and reaſon, they are pro⯑ductive of much miſchief, not only to commerce, but to the very heirs for whoſe benefit it is pre⯑tended that they are made.
Conſidering that the law of nature has beſtow⯑ed on man, every power of property that is ne⯑ceſſary either for commerce or for benevolence, how blind was it in the Engliſh legiſlature to add a moſt irrational power, that of making an en⯑tail! But men will always be mending; and when a law-giver ventures to tamper with the laws of nature, he hazards much miſchief. We have a pregnant inſtance above, of an attempt to mend the laws of God, in many abſurd regu⯑lations for the poor; and that the law authoriſing entails, is another inſtance of the ſame kind, will be evident from what follows.
The miſchievous effects of Engliſh entails were ſoon diſcovered: they occaſioned ſuch injuſtice and oppreſſion, that even the judges ventured to relieve the nations from them, by an artificial form, termed, fine and recovery. And yet, though no moderate man would deſire more power over his eſtate than he has by common law, the legi⯑ſlature of Scotland enabled every land-proprietor to fetter his eſtate for ever; to tyrannize over his heirs; and to reduce their property to a ſha⯑dow, by prohibiting alienation; and by prohi⯑biting the contracting debt, were it even to re⯑deem the proprietor from death or ſlavery. Thus many a man, fonder of his eſtate than of his wife and children, grudges the uſe of it to his natural heirs, reducing them to the ſtate of mere life-renters. Behold the conſequences. A num⯑ber of noblemen and gentlemen among us, lie in wait for every parcel of land that comes to market. Intent upon aggrandizing their family, [281] or rather their eſtate, which is the favourite ob⯑ject, they ſecure every purchaſe by an entail; and the ſame courſe will be followed, till no land be left to be purchaſed. Thus every entailed eſtate in Scotland becomes in effect a mortmain, admitting additions without end, but abſolutely barring any alienation; and if the legiſlature in⯑terpoſe not, the period is not diſtant, when all the land in Scotland will be locked up by entails, and withdrawn from commerce.
The purpoſe of the preſent eſſay, is to ſet be⯑fore our legiſlature, coolly and impartially, the deſtructive effects of a Scotch entail. I am not ſo ſanguine as to hope, that men, who convert means into an end, and avariciouſly covet land for its own ſake, will be prevailed upon to re⯑gard, either the intereſt of their country or of their poſterity: but I would gladly hope, that the legiſlature may be rouſed to give attention to a national object of no ſlight importance.
I begin with effects of a private or domeſtic nature. To the poſſeſſor, an entail is a conſtant ſource of diſcontent, by ſubverting that liberty and independence, which all men covet, with re⯑ſpect to their goods as well as their perſons. What can be more vexatious to a proprietor of a great land-eſtate, than to be barred from the moſt laudable acts, ſuitable proviſions for exam⯑ple to a wife or children? not to mentiom num⯑berleſs acts of benevolence, that endear indivi⯑duals to each other, and make ſociety comforta⯑ble. Were he ever ſo induſtrious, his fields muſt lie waſte; for what man will lay out his own money upon an eſtate that is not his own? A great proportion of the land in Scotland is in ſuch a ſtate, that by laying out a thouſand pounds or ſo, an intelligent proprietor may add a hundred pounds yearly to his rent-roll. But an entail ef⯑fectually [282] bars that improvement: it affords the proprietor no credit; and ſuppoſing him to have the command of money independent of the eſtate, he will be ill-fated if he have not means to em⯑ploy it more profitably for his own intereſt. An entail, at the ſame time, is no better than a trap for an improvident poſſeſſor: to avoid altogether the contracting debt, is impracticable; and if a young man be guided more by pleaſure than by prudence, which commonly is the caſe of young men; a vigilant and rapacious ſubſtitute, taking advantage of a forfeiting clauſe, turns him out of poſſeſſion, and delivers him over to want and miſery.
But an entail is productive of conſequences ſtill more diſmal, even with reſpect to heirs. A young man upon whom the family eſtate is en⯑tailed, without any power reſerved to the father, is not commonly obſequious to advice, nor pati⯑ently ſubmiſſive to the fatigues of education: he abandons himſelf to pleaſure, and indulges his paſſions without control. In one word, there is no ſituation more ſubverſive of morals, than that of a young man, bred up from infancy in the certainty of inheriting an opulent fortune.
The condition of the other children, daughters eſpecially, is commonly deplorable. The pro⯑prietor of a large entailed eſtate, leaves at his death children who have acquired a taſte for ſumptuous living. The ſons drop off one by one, and a number of daughters remain, with a ſcanty proviſion, or perhaps with none at all. A colla⯑teral male heir ſucceeds, who after a painful ſearch is diſcovered in ſome remote corner, qua⯑lified to procure bread by the ſpade or the plough, but entirely unqualified for behaving as maſter of an opulent fortune. By ſuch a metamorphoſis, [283] the poor man makes a ludicrous figure; while the daughters, reduced to indigence, are in a ſi⯑tuation much more lamentable than are the brats of beggars.
Our entails produce another domeſtic evil, for which no proper remedy is provided. The ſums permitted in moſt entails to younger children, however adequate when the entail is made, be⯑come in time too ſcanty, by a fall in the value of money, and by increaſe of luxury; which is pe⯑culiarly hard upon daughters of great families: the proviſions deſtined for them will not afford them bread; and they cannot hope to be ſuitably matched, without a decent fortune. If we ad⯑here to entails, nunneries ought to be provided.
But the domeſtic evils of an entail make no figure compared with thoſe that reſpect the pub⯑lic. Theſe in their full extent would fill a vo⯑lume: they are well known; and it may be ſuf⯑ficient to keep them in view by ſome general hints.
As obſerved above, few tenants in tail can command money for improvements, however profitable. Such diſcouragement to agriculture, hurtful to proprietors of entailed eſtates, is ſtill more ſo to the public. It is now an eſtabliſhed maxim, That a ſtate is powerful in proportion to the product of its land: a nation that feeds its neighbours, can ſtarve them. The quantity of land that is locked up in Scotland by entails, has damped the growing ſpirit of agriculture. There is not produced ſufficiency of corn at home for our own conſumption: and our condition will be⯑come worſe and worſe by new entails, till agri⯑culture and induſtry be annihilated. Were the great entailed eſtates in Scotland, ſplit into ſmall properties of fifty or a hundred pounds yearly [284] rent, we ſhould ſoon be enabled, not only to ſup⯑ply our own markets, but to ſpare for our neigh⯑bours.
In the next place, our entails are no leſs ſub⯑verſive of commerce than of agriculture. There are numberleſs land-eſtates in Scotland of one, two, or three hundred pounds yearly rent. Such an eſtate cannot afford bare neceſſaries to the pro⯑prietor, if he pretend to live like a gentleman. But he has an excellent reſource: let him apply to any branch of trade, his eſtate will afford him credit for what money he wants. The profit he makes, pays the intereſt of the money borrowed, with a ſurplus; and this ſurplus, added to the rent of his eſtate, enables him to live comfort⯑ably. A number of land-proprietors in ſuch cir⯑cumſtances, would advance commerce to a great height. But alas! there are not many who have that reſource: ſuch is the itch in Scoland for en⯑tailing, as even to deſcend lower than one hun⯑dred pounds yearly. Can one behold with pa⯑tience, the countenance that is given to ſelfiſh wrong-headed people, acting in direct oppoſition to the proſperity of their country? Commerce is no leſs hurt in another reſpect: when our land is withdrawn from commerce by entails, every proſperous trader will deſert a country where he can find no land to purchaſe; for to raiſe a fami⯑ly by acquiring an eſtate in land, is the ultimate aim of every merchant, and of every man who accumulates money.
Thirdly, An entail is a bitter enemy to popu⯑lation. Population is generally proportioned to the number of land-proprietors. A very ſmall portion of land, managed with ſkill and induſtry, affords bread to a numerous family; and the great aim of the frugal proprietor, is to provide [285] a fund for educating his children, and for eſtab⯑liſhing them in buſineſs. A numerous iſſue, at the ſame time, is commonly the lot of the tem⯑perate and frugal; becauſe they are ſtrangers to luxury and voluptuouſneſs, which enervate the body, and dry up the ſources of procreation. This is no chimera or fond imagination: traverſe Europe; compare great capitals with diſtant provinces; and it will be found to hold univer⯑ſally, that children abound much more among the induſtrious poor, than among the luxurious rich. But if diviſion of land into ſmall properties, tend to population; depopulation muſt be the neceſ⯑ſary conſequence of an entail, the avowed intent of which is to unite many ſmall properties in one great eſtate; and conſequently, to reduce land-proprietors to a ſmall number.
Let us, in the fourth place, take under conſi⯑deration, the children of land-holders with re⯑ſpect to education and induſtry; for unleſs men be uſefully employed, population is of no real advantage to a ſtate. In that reſpect, great and ſmall eſtates admit no compariſon. Children of great families, accuſtomed to affluence and luxu⯑ry, are too proud for buſineſs; and were they even willing, are incapable to drudge at a labo⯑rious employment. At the ſame time, as the father's hands are tied up by his entail from af⯑fording them means to ſubſiſt as perſons of rank, they become a burden on the family, and on the ſtate, and can do no ſervice to either, but by dy⯑ing. Yet there are men ſo blind, or ſo callous, as to be fond of entails. Let us try whether a more pleaſing ſcene will have any effect upon them. Children of ſmall land-holders, are from infancy educated in a frugal manner; and they muſt be induſtrious, as they depend on induſtry [286] for bread. Among that claſs of men, education has its moſt powerful influence; and upon that claſs a nation chiefly relies, for its ſkilful artiſts and manufacturers, for its lawyers, phyſicians, divines, and even for its generals and ſtateſmen.
And this leads to conſider, in the fifth place, the influence that great and ſmall eſtates have on manners. Gentlemen of a moderate fortune, connected with their ſuperiors and inferiors, im⯑prove ſociety, by ſpreading kindly affection through the whole members of the ſtate. In ſuch only reſides the genuine ſpirit of liberty, abhorrence equally of ſervility to ſuperiors and of tyranny to inferiors. The nature of the Britiſh government, creates a mutual dependence of the great and ſmall on each other. The great have favours to beſtow: the ſmall have many more, by their privilege of electing parliament-men; which obliges men of high rank to affect popula⯑rity, if they have none at heart. This connec⯑tion produces good manners at leaſt between dif⯑ferent ranks, and perhaps ſome degree of cordia⯑lity. Accumulation of land into great eſtates, produces oppoſite manners: when all the land in Scotland is ſwallowed up by a number of gran⯑dees, and few gentlemen of the middle rank are left; even the appearance of popularity will va⯑niſh, leaving pride and inſolence on the one hand, and abject ſervility on the other. In a word, the diſtribution of land into many ſhares, accords charmingly with the free ſpirit of the Britiſh con⯑ſtitution; but nothing is more repugnant to that ſpirit, than overgrown eſtates in land.
In the ſixth place, Arts and ſciences can never flouriſh in a country, where all the land is en⯑groſſed by a few men. Science will never be cultivated by the diſpirited tenant, who can ſcarce [287] procure bread; and ſtill leſs, if poſſible, by the inſolent landlord, who is too ſelf-ſufficient for in⯑ſtruction. There will be no encouragement for arts: great and opulent proprietors, foſtering am⯑bitious views, will cling to the ſeat of govern⯑ment, which is far removed from Scotland; and if vanity make them ſometimes diſplay their gran⯑deur at their country-ſeats, they will be too deli⯑cate for any articles of luxury but what are fo⯑reign. The arts and ſciences being thus baniſh⯑ed, Scotland will be deſerted by every man of ſpirit who can find bread elſewhere.
In the ſeventh place, Such overgrown eſtates will produce an irregular and dangerous influence with reſpect to the Houſe of Commons. The parliament-boroughs will be ſubdued by weight of money; and with reſpect to county-elections, it is a chance if there be left in a county as many land-holders capable to elect, and to be elected, as even to afford a choice. In ſuch circumſtan⯑ces, will our conſtitution be in no danger, from the ambitious views of men elevated above others by their vaſt poſſeſſions? Is it unlikely, that ſuch men, taking advantage of public diſcord, will become an united body of ambitious oppreſ⯑ſors, overawing their ſovereign as well as their fellow-ſubjects? Such was the miſerable condi⯑tion of Britain, while the ſeudal oligarchy ſub⯑ſiſted: ſuch at preſent is the miſerable condition of Poland: and ſuch will be the miſerable condi⯑tion of Scotland, if the legiſlature afford not a remedy.
If the public intereſt only were to be regarded, the axe ought to be applied, cutting down en⯑tails to the very root: but a numberleſs body of ſubſtitutes are intereſted, many of whom would be diſinherited, if the tenants in tail had power. [288] To reconcile as much as poſſible theſe oppoſite in⯑tereſts, it is propoſed, that the following articles be authoriſed by a ſtatute. Firſt, That the act of parliament 1685 be repealed with reſpect to all future operations. Second, That entails al⯑ready made and completed, ſhall continue effec⯑tual to ſuch ſubſtitutes as exiſt at the date of the act propoſed; but ſhall not benefit any ſubſtitute born after it. Third, That power be reſerved to every proprietor, after the act 1685 is at an end, to ſettle his eſtate upon what heirs he thinks proper, and to bar theſe heirs from altering the order of ſucceſſion; theſe powers being inherent in property at common law.
At the ſame time, the prohibiting entails will avail little, if truſt-deeds be permitted in their utmoſt extent, as in England. And therefore, in order to re-eſtabliſh the law of nature with re⯑ſpect to land property, a limitation of truſt-deeds is neceſſary. My propoſal is, That no truſt-deed, directing or limiting the ſucceſſion of heirs to a land-eſtate, ſhall be effectual beyond the life of the heirs in exiſtence at the time.
Appendix A.2 SKETCH II.
Government of ROYAL BOROUGHS in Scotland.
[289]BY a royal borough is in Scotland underſtood an incorporation that hold their lands of the crown, and are governed by magiſtrates of their own naming. The adminiſtration of the annual revenues of a royal borough, termed the common good, is truſted to the magiſtrates; but not with⯑out control. It was originally ſubjected to the review of the Great Chamberlain; and accord⯑ingly the chap. 39. § 45. of the Iter Camerarii, contains the following articles, recommended to the Chamberlain to be enquired into. ‘"Giff there be an good aſſedation and uptaking of the common good of the burgh, and giff faith⯑ful compt be made thereof to the community of the burgh; and giff no compt is made, he whom and in quhaes hands it is come, and how it paſſes by the community."’ In purſu⯑ance of theſe inſtructions, the Chamberlain's precept for holding the ayr, or circuit, is direct⯑ed to the provoſt and bailies, enjoining them, ‘"to call all thoſe who have received any of the town's revenues, or uſed any office within the [290] burgh, ſince the laſt chamberlain-ayr, to an⯑ſwer ſuch things as ſhall be laid to their charge."’ Iter Camer. cap. 1. And in the third chapter, which contains the forms of the chamberlain-ayr, the firſt thing to be done after fencing the court, is, to call the bailies and ſerjeants to be challen⯑ged and accuſed from the time of the laſt ayr.
This office, dangerous by exceſs of power, being ſuppreſſed, the royal boroughs were left in a ſtate of anarchy. The magiſtracy, being now no longer under any check or control, was covet⯑ed by noblemen and gentlemen in the neighbour⯑hood; who, under the name of office-bearers, laid their hands on the revenues of the borough, and converted all to their own profit. This cor⯑ruption was heavily complained of in the reign of James V.; and a remedy was provided by act 26. parl. 1535, enacting, 1 ſt, That none be qualified to be provoſt, bailie, or alderman, but an indwelling burgeſs. 2dly, ‘"That no inha⯑bitant purchaſe lordſhip out of burgh, to the terror of his comburgeſſes. And, 3dly, That all provoſts, bailies, and aldermen of boroughs, bring yearly to the chequer at a day certain, the compt-books of their common good, to be ſeen and conſidered by the Lords Auditors, giff the ſame be ſpended for the common well of the burgh, or not, under the penalty of loſing their freedom. And that the ſaid pro⯑voſts, bailies, and aldermen, warn yearly, fifteen days before their coming to the che⯑quer, all thoſe who are willing to come for examining the ſaid accounts, that they may impugn the ſame, in order that all murmur may ceaſe in that behalf."’ And to enforce theſe regulations, a brieve was iſſued from the chancery, commanding the magiſtrates to preſent [291] their accounts to the exchequer, and ſummoning the burgeſſes to appear and object to the ſame.
A defect in this ſtatute made it leſs effectual than it was intended to be. Magiſtrates, to a⯑void the penalty, brought the count-books of their common good to the exchequer; but they brought no rental of the common good to found a charge againſt them. This defect was reme⯑died by act 28. parl. 1693, containing the follow⯑ing preamble. ‘"That the royal boroughs, by the male-adminiſtration of their magiſtrates, have fallen under great debts and burdens, to the diminution of their dignity, and the diſa⯑bling of them to ſerve the crown and govern⯑ment as they ought; and that the care, over⯑ſight, and control of the common good of bo⯑roughs, belong to their Majeſties by virtue of their prerogative-royal; therefore, for pre⯑venting the like abuſes and miſapplications in all time thereafter, their Majeſties ſtatute and ordain, That every burgh-royal, ſhall, be⯑twixt this and the firſt of November next, bring to the Lords of Treaſury and Exchequer, an exact account of charge and diſcharge, ſub⯑ſcribed by the magiſtrates and town-clerk, of their whole public-good and revenues, and of the whole debts and incumbrances that affect the ſame."’ This completed the remedy, by putting means into the hands of the Barons of Exchequer, to control the accounts enjoined by the former ſtatute to be yearly given in.
The foregoing regulations are kept in obſer⯑vance. Every year a precept iſſues from the ex⯑chequer, ſigned by one of the Barons, addreſſed to the director of the chancery, requiring him to make out a brieve for every royal borough. The brieve is accordingly made out, returned to the [292] exchequer, and ſent to the ſeveral ſheriffs, to be ſerved in all the royal boroughs within their bounds, as directed by the ſtatute. Theſe brieves are accordingly ſo ſerved by the ſheriffs; and particularly it is a conſtant form in moſt of the royal boroughs, to iſſue a proclamation, fif⯑teen days before the day named for appearance in exchequer, warning the inhabitants to repair there, in order to object to the public accounts of the town: and further, in order to give them opportunity to frame objections, the book and accounts are laid open for theſe fifteen days, to be inſpected by all the inhabitants.
We learn from the records of exchequer, that from the year 1660 to the year 1683, accounts were regularly given in to exchequer, in obedi⯑ence to the ſtatute. The town of Edinburgh on⯑ly having failed for ſome ſhort time, Captain Thomas Hamilton merchant there, by an action in exchequer, compelled the magiſtrates to pro⯑duce upon oath their treaſurer's accounts, which were accordingly audited. And we alſo learn, that from the Reſtoration down to the Union, a clerk to the borough-roll was appointed by the crown, whoſe proper buſineſs it was to examine and audite the accounts of the boroughs.
Notwithſtanding the foregoing ſalutary regula⯑tions, and the form conſtantly practiſed to make them effectual, the boroughs of late years have forborn to preſent their accounts in exchequer; hoping that they would be overlooked by the Engliſh court of exchequer, eſtabliſhed in Scot⯑land after the Union; which accordingly happen⯑ed. This neglect in the court of exchequer is greatly to be regretted, becauſe it reduces the royal boroughs, by the male-adminiſtration of their magiſtrates, to the ſame miſerable condition [293] that is ſo loudly complained of in the ſtatutes above mentioned. It is undoubtedly in the pow⯑er of the Barons to reſtore good government to the boroughs, by compelling the magiſtrates to account yearly in the court of exchequer, accord⯑ing to the foregoing regulations. And to that end no more is neceſſary, but to ſignify publicly that they are reſolved hereafter to put theſe re⯑gulations in execution.
How beneficial that ſtep would be to this coun⯑try in general, and to the royal boroughs in par⯑ticular, will appear from conſidering, firſt, the unhappy conſequences that reſult from ſuffering magiſtrates to diſpoſe of the town's revenues, without any check or control; and next the good effects that muſt reſult from a regular and care⯑ful management, under the inſpection of the King's judges.
The unhappy conſequences of leaving magiſ⯑trates without any check or control, are too viſible to be diſguiſed. The revenues of a royal bo⯑rough are ſeldom laid out for the good of the town, but in making friends to the knot who are in poſſeſſion of the magiſtracy; and in rioting and drunkenneſs, for which every pretext is laid hold of, particularly that of hoſpitality to ſtran⯑gers. Such miſmanagement tends to idleneſs, and corruption of manners; which accordingly are remarkable in moſt royal boroughs. Nor is the contagion confined within the town: it com⯑monly ſpreads all around.
Another conſequence, no leſs fatal, of leaving magiſtrates to act without control, is a ſtrong deſire in every licentious burgeſs, of ſtepping into the magiſtracy, for his own ſake, and for that of his friends. Hence the factions and animoſi⯑ties that prevail in almoſt all the royal boroughs; [294] which are violently and indecently purſued, without the leaſt regard to the good of the com⯑munity.
The greateſt evil of all, reſpects the choice of their repreſentatives in parliament. A habit of riot and intemperance, makes them fit ſubjects to be corrupted, by every adventurer who is willing to lay out money for purchaſing a ſeat in parlia⯑ment. Hence the infamous practice of bribery at elections, which tends not only to corrupt the whole maſs of the people, but, which is ſtill more dreadful, tends to fill the Houſe of Com⯑mons with men of diſſolute manners, void of probity and honour.
But turning from ſcenes ſo diſmal, let us view the beautiful effects that reſult, from an adminiſ⯑tration regularly carried on, as directed by the ſtatutes above mentioned. The revenues of the royal boroughs are ſuppoſed to be above L. 40,000 yearly. And were this ſum, or the half of it, prudently expended, for promoting arts and in⯑duſtry among the numerous inhabitants of royal boroughs, the benefit, in a country ſo narrow and poor as Scotland, would be immenſe: it would tend to population, it would greatly in⯑creaſe induſtry, manufactures, and commerce, beſide augmenting the public revenue. In the next place, as there would be no temptation for deſigning men to convert the burden of magiſtra⯑cy into a benefit, faction and diſcord would va⯑niſh; and there would be no leſs ſolicitude to ſhun the burden, than at preſent is ſeen to obtain it. None would ſubmit to the burden but the truly patriotic, men who would chearfully beſtow their time, and perhaps their money, upon the pub⯑lic; and whoſe ambition it would be to acquire a [295] character, by promoting induſtry, temperance, and honeſty, among their fellow-citizens.
And when the government of the royal bo⯑roughs comes to be in ſo good hands, bribery, which corrupts the very vitals of our conſtitution, will be baniſhed of courſe. And conſidering the proper and conſtitutional dependence of the roy⯑al boroughs upon the king's judges, we may have reaſonable aſſurance, that few repreſentatives will be choſen, but who are friends to their coun⯑try and to their ſovereign.
Appendix A.3 SKETCH III.
Plan for improving and preſerving in order the HIGHWAYS in Scotland.
[496]Appendix A.3.1 PREFACE.
HIghways have in Scotland become a capital ob⯑ject of police, by the increaſe of inland com⯑merce, upon which bad roads are a heavy tax. Hap⯑pily for our country, no perſon is ignorant of this truth; and we ſee with pleaſure the fruits of their conviction in various attempts, publick and private, to eſtabliſh this valuable branch of police upon the beſt footing. As this will be found no eaſy taſk, it may reaſonably be hoped, that men of genius will ſeriouſly apply themſelves to it, and in general that every perſon will freely produce ſuch hints as occur to them. In the latter view the following plan is offered to the public: and if, from the various pro⯑poſals that have been or ſhall be publiſhed, an effec⯑tive plan can be framed, ſuch as completely to an⯑ſwer its purpoſe, it may ſafely be pronounced, that it will produce more benefit to this country, than has been produced by any other ſingle improvement ſince the union of the two kingdoms.
Appendix A.3.2
[297]1. THE juſtices of peace, commiſſioners of ſupply, the ſheriff or ſtewart depute, and the firſt magiſtrate of royal boroughs, ſhall be commiſſioners for making and repairing high⯑ways, bridges, and ferries, in the ſeveral ſhires and ſtewartries. All the powers given by law to the juſtices of peace, and commiſſioners of ſup⯑ply, with reſpect to highways, bridges, and fer⯑ries, ſhall be transferred to them; and any two ſhall be a quorum, except where a greater num⯑ber is required by this act.
2. The ſheriff or ſtewart depute ſhall appoint the firſt day of meeting of the ſaid commiſſion⯑ers, as ſoon as may conveniently be after the date of the act, by an intimation at each pariſh⯑church upon a Sunday at the cloſe of the fore⯑noon-ſervice. And the laſt Tueſday of March ſhall yearly thereafter be a day of meeting at the head borough of the ſhire or ſtewartry, in place of the firſt or third Tueſday of May appointed by former acts. The commiſſioners ſhall ap⯑point a preſes, convener, and clerk: and they ſhall be impowered to adjourn themſelves from time to time.
3. The commiſſioners, at their firſt meeting, ſhall ſet about a diviſion of the ſhire or ſtewartry into two or more diſtricts, as they ſee convenient. And if they cannot overtake this work at that meeting, they ſhall appoint proper perſons to form a plan of the intended diviſions, which plan ſhall be reported to the commiſſioners at their next meeting, in order to be approved or altered by them. This being ſettled, the commiſſioners ſhall appoint the heritors in theſe ſeveral diſtricts, or any three of them, to meet on a certain day and place, to make liſts of the whole publick [298] roads within their reſpective diſtricts, and to ſettle the order of reparation, beginning with thoſe that are the moſt frequented. The pro⯑ceedings of theſe diſtrict-meetings muſt be re⯑ported to the commiſſioners, at their next meet⯑ing; who are empowered to ſettle the order of reparation, in caſe of variance among the heri⯑tors; and alſo to add any road that may have been omitted. And they ſhall record a ſcheme or plan of the whole roads in the ſhire, thus en⯑liſted, with their reſolutions thereupon, to be ſeen in the clerk's hands gratis. But upon any juſt cauſe appearing in the courſe of adminiſtra⯑tion, the commiſſioners ſhall be empowered to alter or vary this plan, provided it be at a meeting previouſly appointed for that purpoſe, and where three fifths at leaſt of the commiſſioners are pre⯑ſent.
4. If the ſheriff or ſtewart neglect to appoint the firſt meeting of the commiſſioners, he ſhall incur a penalty of L. 100, upon a ſummary complaint to the court of ſeſſion by any one he⯑ritor of the ſhire; with coſts of ſuit, the one half to the plaintiff, and the other half to be ap⯑plied by the commiſſioners for the purpoſes of this act. If the commiſſioners fail to meet at the day appointed by the ſheriff or ſtewart, or fail to divide the ſhire or ſtewartry into diſtricts, within ſix months of their firſt meeting, the ſheriff or ſtewart depute, under the foreſaid penalty, ſhall be bound to do that work himſelf; and alſo to appoint the heritors in the ſeveral diſtricts, or any three of them, to make liſts of the public roads as above mentioned, and to report their reſolu⯑tions to him; and he is empowered to ſettle the order of reparation, in caſe of variance among the heritors. If the heritors fail to meet, and to [299] make a liſt of the roads as aforeſaid, this work ſhall be performed by the ſheriff or ſtewart depute him⯑ſelf. And he ſhall be indemnified of whatever ex⯑pences he is at in proſecuting the ſaid work, out of the ſums that are to be levied by authority of this act, in manner after mentioned, with an additio⯑nal ſum for his own trouble, to be named by the circuit-judges.
5. No perſon ſhall act as a commiſſioner upon this ſtatute, but who has an eſtate within the county of L. 200 Scots valuation, or is heir⯑preſumptive to ſuch an eſtate, or is named a commiſſioner virtute officii, under the penalty of L. 20 Sterling toties quoties, to be proſecuted be⯑fore any competent court, by a popular action, with coſts of ſuit; the one half to the plaintiff, the other half to the purpoſes of this act.
6. Whereas the ſum of 10d. directed by the act 1669 to be impoſed upon each L. 100 of va⯑lued rent, is inſufficient for the purpoſes therein expreſſed; and whereas the ſix days ſtatute-work for repairing the highways is in many re⯑ſpects inconvenient; therefore inſtead of the 10d. and inſtead of the ſtatute-work, the com⯑miſſioners, together with the heritors poſſeſſed of L. 200 Scots of valued rent, five, whether com⯑miſſioners or heritors, making a quorum, ſhall annually, upon the ſaid laſt Tueſday of March, aſſeſs each heritor in a ſum not exceeding
upon each L. 100 valued rent; the aſſeſſ⯑ment impoſed on the heritors to be levied by the collector of ſupply, along with the ceſs, and by the ſame legal remedies. The heritors are enti⯑tled to relieve themſelves of the one half of the ſaid aſſeſſment, by laying the ſame upon their tenants, in proportion to their rents; an heri⯑tor being always conſidered as a tenant of the land he has in his natural poſſeſſion.
[300] 7. With reſpect to boroughs of royalty, regality, and barony, and large trading villa⯑ges, the commiſſioners are empowered to levy from each houſeholder, a ſum not exceeding 2 s. yearly, more or leſs in proportion to the aſſeſſment of the ſhire, to be paid within forty days after notice given, under the penalty of double, beſides expence of proceſs. Provided, that any of theſe houſeholders who have coun⯑try farms, by which they contribute to relieve their landlords as above mentioned, ſhall be ex⯑empted from this part of the aſſeſſment.
8. If the commiſſioners and heritors neglect to aſſeſs their ſhire, or name ſo ſmall a ſum as to be an eluſory aſſeſſment, inſufficient to an⯑ſwer the purpoſes of this act, the court of juſ⯑ticiary, or the circuit judges, are in that caſe empowered and required to lay on the higheſt aſſeſſment that is made lawful by this act. In caſe of a total omiſſion, the commiſſioners and heritors who, by neglecting to convene with⯑out a good cauſe of abſence, have occaſioned the ſaid omiſſion, ſhall be ſubjected each of them to a penalty of L. 20 Sterling. And to make theſe penalties effectual, the truſtees for fiſh⯑eries and manufactures are appointed to ſue for the ſame before the court of ſeſſion, and to ap⯑ply the ſame, when recovered, to any uſeful purpoſe within the ſhire, eſpecially to the pur⯑poſes of this act. And to preſerve the ſaid fines entire for the public ſervice, the truſtees ſhall be entitled to coſts of ſuit.
9. The ſums levied as aforeſaid ſhall be laid out annually upon the highways, bridges, and ferries, for making, repairing, or improving the ſame; proceeding regularly with the reparation according to the ſcheme or plan ordered as above to be ſettled in each ſhire and ſtewartry.
[301] 10. With reſpect to roads that are not the firſt in order, and for which there is no interim proviſion by this act during reparation of the more frequented roads, the commiſſioners are impowered to exact from cottars and day-labour⯑ers their ſtatute-work according to the acts pre⯑ſently in force, to be applied to thoſe ſecondary roads. The ſtatute-work is not to be demanded unleſs for this purpoſe; and is to ceaſe totally after the highways have, by means of the pre⯑ſent act, been once totally repaired.
11. The commiſſioners and heritors, at all their meetings, ſhall bear their own charges.
12. The clauſe in the act 1661, empowering heritors, at the ſight of the ſheriff, to caſt about highways for their convenience, ſhall be repealed; and it ſhall be declared unlawful, in time coming, to turn about or change any high⯑way, unleſs for the benefit of the public, as by ſhortening it, carrying it through firmer ground, or making it more level; and to that purpoſe the commiſſioners ſhall be impowered to turn about highways, as alſo to widen the ſame, not exceeding thirty feet, free of ditches. But the commiſſioners ſhall have no power to carry a road through any houſe, garden, or⯑chard, or pleaſure-ground.
13. The commiſſioners ſhall have power to take from the adjacent lands, ſtones, ſand, gra⯑vel, or other materials for making the highways, paying always for the damage done.
14. With reſpect to high-roads which bound the properties of neighbouring heritors, and which it may be found neceſſary to alter or wid⯑en, the commiſſioners ſhall be empowered to adjudge to one heritor any ſmall bits of ground cut off from the other by the road ſo altered; [302] and if land cannot be given for land, to make a compenſation in money, valuing the land at the current price of the country.
15. In order to prevent water ſtagnating on the highways, the commiſſioners ſhall be impow⯑ered to make ditches or drains through neigh⯑bouring grounds; and ſuch ditches or drains ſhall be preſerved entire by the proprietors of the land, or at their charges.
16. As the aforeſaid aſſeſſment, after repair⯑ing the highways, may not be ſufficient for build⯑ing bridges, or making ferries, where rivers are large; any five of the commiſſioners may, for building bridges, or making ferries, eſtabliſh a pontage or toll; ſo much for horſes, ſo much for horned cattle, and ſo much for ſheep, and the double for each beaſt in a wheel-carriage. Upon the credit of the toll the ſaid commiſſioners may borrow money, to be employed wholly upon the bridge or ferry where the toll is gathered. But before borrowing the money, an eſtimate muſt be made of the expence of the work. After the work is finiſhed, the ſum beſtowed on it muſt be aſcertained: an accurate account muſt be kept of the gradual payment of this ſum by the toll; and when it is completely paid, the commiſſioners muſt declare the bridge or ferry to be free.
17. The determinations of the commiſſioners ſhall be final, unleſs complained of in manner following.
18. If any heritor apprehend that undue pre⯑ference is given to a certain highway, or con⯑ceive himſelf aggrieved by an order or ſentence of the commiſſioners, it ſhall be lawful for him, within forty days of the act complained of, to enter a complaint in the court of ſeſſion; and the [303] judgment upon ſuch complaint ſhall be final. But ſuch complaint ſhall only be effectual for da⯑mages, and ſhall not ſtay execution of the work. At the ſame time, no complaint ſhall be admitted till ſecurity be given to pay full coſts, in caſe the plaintiff be found in the wrong.
19. Former laws concerning highways, brid⯑ges, or ferries, to continue in force, unleſs as far as altered by this act.
20. An annual ſtate of what is done by virtue of this act, made up by the commiſſioners, or their clerk, ſhall, before the laſt Tueſday of March, be laid before the truſtees for fiſheries and manufactures, in order to be made a part of their annual report to the King; and theſe truſ⯑tees ſhall direct proper perſons to inſpect what work is done upon the high-roads, and in what manner. Upon any miſapplication or embezzle⯑ment of the money levied, any neglect in levy⯑ing, or any wrong done to the public, contrary to the intention of this act, the truſtees are re⯑quired to ſet on foot and proſecute what redreſs is competent in law or equity, provided the proſecution be commenced within a year after the offence.
Query, Ought not broad wheels to be re⯑quired?
Appendix A.3.3 CONSIDERATIONS on the preceding PLAN.
[304]THE laws in Scotland relating to this branch of public police, are numerous; ſome en⯑acted while Scotland was a ſeparate kingdom, ſome after its union with England. It is not the purpoſe of this paper to enter into a detail of the various regulations eſtabliſhed by theſe laws: they are generally known; and in the late abridgment of our ſtatute-law, they are all recapitulated with brevity and preciſion. It ſhall ſuffice curſorily to obſerve, that the acts made during the reign of Charles II. form the ground-work of our regulations concerning highways: the latter acts are little more than explanatory of the former.
It ſeems to have been the plan of the legiſla⯑ture, that highways ſhould be repaired by thoſe who are employed in huſbandry; and ac⯑cordingly, the ſix days annual labour is, in the ſtatutes of Charles II. impoſed upon them only.
This was a meaſure not ill ſuited to the ſtate of Scotland at that period. During the laſt century, we had little inland commerce to re⯑quire [305] good roads, except that of corn carried to market; and for that reaſon, it was natural to impoſe upon huſbandmen the burden of re⯑pairing highways. Theſe perſons, at the ſame time, paſſing the whole ſummer in idleneſs, unleſs when called to perform perſonal ſervices to capricious and unfeeling landlords, could not think it a hardſhip to have ſome part of their time employed in ſerving themſelves inſtead of their landlords.
That annual labour upon highways, limited to a few days, ſhould be required from men in that condition, appears not unjuſt. And why may we not ſuppoſe the legiſlature at that time capable of ſuch enlarged views, as to prefer this method for repairing highways, in order to bring on gradually a habit of labour and indu⯑ſtry? But the condition of Scotland at pre⯑ſent differs widely from what it was in the reign of Charles II.; and the regulations for repairing highways which were then proper, have, by alteration of circumſtances, become both unjuſt and inexpedient.
Unjuſt they have become in a high degree. Inland commerce, which begins to flouriſh in Scotland, is greatly promoted by good roads; and every dealer, and indeed every traveller, profits by them. But no men are leſs intereſted in good roads than day-labourers, or thoſe who are commonly called cottars; and yet theſe chiefly are burdened with the reparation. Such men, at the ſame time having commonly many children, find it difficult to ſupport their fami⯑lies, even with their utmoſt induſtry. No⯑thing can be more unjuſt, than to impoſe up⯑on ſuch men an annual tax of ſix days labour for repairing roads, the goodneſs of which [306] contributes little or nothing to their conveni⯑ence.
Our preſent laws are inexpedient, as well as unjuſt. In the firſt place, a tax of this na⯑ture diſcourages the propagation of children, in which the ſtrength of a ſtate conſiſts: the poor labourer ought to be encouraged with a reward, inſtead of being diſcouraged with a tax. In the next place, cottars called out to perform the ſtatute-work, obey with reluct⯑ance, and trifle away time without doing any thing effectual. To enforce the law, and to compel ſuch men to labour, is grievous to the gentlemen who are empowered to execute the law: they cannot puniſh with rigour or firm⯑neſs, men who have ſo good reaſon to decline the ſervice: they are ſoon diſguſted with be⯑ing taſkmaſters, and the generality deſiſt alto⯑gether.
Laws concerning private property are always kept in obſervance, and they execute them⯑ſelves, as is commonly expreſſed, becauſe there are always a multitude of individuals ſtrongly intereſted to have them executed. But in making public laws, the great difficul⯑ty has ever been, to lay down effectual mea⯑ſures for putting them in execution; and by what means to make ſuch laws execute them⯑ſelves, is one of the moſt intricate problems in politics. Our laws concerning highways, are eminently defective in that reſpect: and accordingly, though moſt of them have exiſt⯑ed near a century, they never have at any pe⯑riod been executed to any extent. Take the following ſpecimen, among many that may be urged, of this defect. Overſeers are forced into ſervice under a penalty, in order to com⯑pel [307] the peaſants to perform faithfully their ſix-days labour. To hope any good from a reluc⯑tant overſeer ſet over a ſet of reluctant labou⯑rers, is a fond conceit: it is much if his re⯑ſentment tempt him not to encourage their idleneſs. In vain would we expect, that any overſeer, without a ſuitable reward, will ex⯑ert himſelf in promoting the work.
To remedy the hardſhip of laying the bur⯑den of reparation upon thoſe who are leaſt⯑able and leaſt benefited, and at the ſame time to make this remedy effectual, is the purpoſe of the foregoing plan. And upon conſidering the matter in its different views, the only me⯑thod that promiſes ſucceſs, appears to be a county-tax laid upon land according to the va⯑luation, and a capitation-tax on the inha⯑bitants of boroughs. Theſe taxes relieve the labouring poor, and lay the burden where it ought to be laid: and the law will execute it⯑ſelf, if that effect can be hoped from any pub⯑lic law. Effectual meaſures are laid down for levying the tax: and, if once levied, there is no danger of its being allowed to lie unem⯑ployed in the hands of the collector; for eve⯑ry heritor will be anxious to have ſome part employed for his benefit. The danger will rather be of factious diſputes about the diſtri⯑bution. This danger alſo is attempted to be prevented; and, it is hoped, with ſucceſs.
Some narrow-minded perſons may poſſibly grudge a tax, that loads the preſent generation for the advantage of thoſe who come after: but is it rational to grudge, that others ſhould benefit by meaſures evidently calculated for advancing our own intereſt? Let us ſuppoſe, that the heritors of a ſhire were to concert [308] meaſures in common, for improving their lands: to make good roads would be one effec⯑tual meaſure; for ſuppoſing the reparation to coſt L. 5000, their eſtates would be bettered double that ſum.
To conclude: It is not to be expected that any regulations concerning highways, or con⯑cerning any branch of police, can be ſo fram⯑ed as to pleaſe every individual. Wiſe men are practicable men, to uſe an expreſſion of Lord Bacon, and will make conceſſions in or⯑der to promote a general good, if without ſuch conceſſions it cannot be obtained. Better far to have a good law, though in our opinion defective in ſome articles, than to have no law at all, or, which is worſe, a law eminently de⯑fective, unjuſt, and inexpedient.
Appendix B
☞ The Binder is requeſted to take Notice that the Signa⯑ [...] of Vol. III. are marked Vol. II. as far as Sheet I.
John Duke of Britany, commonly termed the Good Duke, illuſtrious for generoſity, clemency, and pi⯑ety, reigned forty-three years, wholly employed about the good of his ſubjects. He was ſucceeded by his eldeſt ſon Francis, a prince weak and ſuſpicious, and conſequently fit to be governed. Arthur of Montau⯑ban, in love with the wife of Gilles, brother to the Duke, perſuaded the Duke that his brother was laying plots to dethrone him. Gilles being impriſoned, the Duke's beſt friends conjured him to pity his unhappy brother, who might be imprudent, but aſſuredly was innocent; but in vain. Gilles being proſecuted be⯑fore the three eſtates of the province for high treaſon, was unanimouſly abſolved; which irritated the Duke more and more. Arthur of Montauban artfully ſug⯑geſted to his maſter to try poiſon; which having miſ⯑carried, they next reſolved to ſtarve the priſoner to death. The unfortunate prince, through the bars of a window, cried aloud for bread; but the paſſengers durſt not ſupply him. One poor woman only had courage more than once to ſlip ſome bread within the window. He charged a prieſt, who had received his confeſſion, to declare to the Duke, ‘"That ſeeing juſ⯑tice was refuſed him in this world, he appealed to Heaven, and called upon the Duke to appear be⯑fore the judgment-ſeat of God in forty days."’ The Duke and his favourite, amazed that the prince lived ſo long without nouriſhment, employed aſſaſſins to ſmother him with his bed-cloaths. The prieſt, in obedience to the orders he had received, preſented himſelf before the Duke, and with a loud voice cited him in the name of the deceaſed Lord Gilles to appear before God in forty days. Shame and remorſe veri⯑fied the prediction. The Duke was ſeized with a ſudden terror; and the image of his brother, expi⯑ring by his orders, haunted him day and night. He decayed daily without any marks of a regular diſeaſe, and died within the forty days in frightful agony.
See this ſubject further illuſtrated in the Sketch Principles and Progreſs of Theology, chap. 1.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4515 Sketches of the history of man In four volumes By Henry Home Lord Kaims pt 4. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-6086-0