ESSAYS ON THE CHARACTERISTICS.
BY JOHN BROWN, M. A.
Blakey inv. et del. C. Grignion Sculp.
LONDON, Printed for C. DAVIS against
Gray's-Inn-Gate, Holborn.
MDCCLI.
ESSAYS ON THE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE Earl of SHAFTESBURY.
I. On RIDICULE considered as a Test of Truth.
II. On the Obligations of Man to Virtue, and the Necessity of
religious Principle.
III. On
revealed
RELIGION, and CHRISTIANITY.
TO Ralph Allen, Esq.
SIR,
DID this Address aim no farther than at the common End of Dedicators, I should have been proud enough to have declined the Trouble, and
You
too wise to have approved this public Manner of offering it.
TO praise You, were
impertinent;
and to tell others of my Obligations to You, would have the Appearance rather of
Vanity
than
Gratitude.
THE Truth is; I make free with Your Name on this Occasion, not so much to
protect
my
Book,
as to
complete
my
Argument.
I HAVE ventured to criticize the Works of a very celebrated Writer, who took it into his Head to oppose the solid Wisdom of the
Gospel,
by the Visions of
false Philosophy.
As His, at best, is but the Cause of
Wit
and
Eloquence,
all the Support he could give it was only to tell us
how
PLATO
wrote:
Mine being that of
Truth,
and
Christianity,
I have the Advantage of
realizing
all I say, in bidding the World take Notice
how
YOU
live.
IN a Word; I was willing to bring the Question to a short Issue; and shew, by a
known
EXAMPLE, to what an Elevation true
Christianity
can exalt human Nature. Till therefore philosophic
Taste
can produce a parallel Effect,
Religion
must bear the
Palm;
and CHRISTIANITY, like her
Parent
WISDOM,
will be justified of her Children.
I am, SIR, Your most obliged, humble Servant, JOHN BROWN.
CONTENTS.
ESSAY I. On RIDICULE considered as a Test of Truth.
SECT. I. VINDICATION of the noble Writer's Zeal for Freedom.
page
1.
SECT. II. Of his Method of treating the Question concerning Ridicule.
p.
7.
SECT. III. Of the different Kinds of Composition; Poetry, Eloquence, and Argument.
p.
12.
SECT. IV. That Ridicule is a Species of Eloquence.
p.
41.
SECT. V. A Confirmation of the foregoing Truths by an Appeal to Fact.
p.
48.
SECT. VI. Of the noble Writer's Arguments in support of his new Theory; particularly the Case of SOCRATES.
p.
54.
SECT. VII. His further Reasonings examined.
page
64.
SECT. VIII. Of his main Argument; relating to Protestantism and Christianity.
p.
74.
SECT. IX. Of the Opinion of GORGIAS quoted by his Lordship from ARISTOTLE.
p.
80.
SECT. X. The Reasoning of one of his Followers in this Subject, examined.
p.
88.
SECT. XI. Of the particular Impropriety of applying Ridicule to the Investigation of religious Truth.
p.
99.
ESSAY II. On the Obligations of Man to Virtue, and the Necessity of
Religious Principle.
SECT. I. Introduction.
page
109.
SECT. II. That the Definitions which Lord SHAFTESBURY, and several other Moralists have given of Virtue, is inadequate and defective.
p.
111.
SECT. III. Of the real Nature of Virtue.
p.
123.
SECT. IV. Of an Objection urged by Dr. MANDEVILLE against the permanent Reality of Virtue.
page
137.
SECT. V. Examination and Analysis of
The Fable of the Bees. p.
146.
SECT. VI. Of the natural Motives to virtuous Action.
p.
158.
SECT. VII. How far these Motives can in Reality influence all Mankind. The Errors of the
Stoic
and
Epicurean
Parties; and the most probable Foundation of these Errors.
p.
168.
SECT. VIII. The noble Writer's additional Reasonings examined; and shewn to be without Foundation.
p.
187.
SECT. IX. That the religious Principle, or Obedience to the Will of God, can alone produce a uniform and permanent Obligation to Virtue. The noble Writer's Objections examined.
p.
206.
SECT. X. Of the Efficacy of the religious Principle. Conclusion.
p.
223.
ESSAY III. On revealed RELIGION, and CHRISTIANITY.
SECT. I. Of the noble Writer's Manner of treating Christianity.
page
241.
SECT. II. Of his Objections to the Truths of natural Religion.
p.
245.
SECT. III. Of the Credibility of the Gospel-History.
p.
256.
SECT. IV. Of the Scripture-Miracles.
p.
271.
SECT. V. Of Enthusiasm.
p.
292.
SECT. VI. Of the religious and moral Doctrines of Christianity.
p.
312.
SECT. VII. Of several detached Passages in the
Characteristics. p.
347.
SECT. VIII. Of the Style and Composition of the Scriptures.
p.
369.
SECT. IX. Of the noble Writer's Treatment of the English Clergy.
p.
389.
ESSAYS ON THE Characteristics, etc.
ESSAY I. On Ridicule, considered as a Test of Truth.
SECTION I.
IT hath been the Fate of Lord SHAFTESBURY's
Characteristics,
beyond that of most other Books, to be idolized by one Party, and detested by another. While the first regard it as a Work of
perfect Excellence,
as containing every Thing that can render Mankind wise and happy; the latter are disposed to rank it among the most pernicious of Writings, and brand it as one continued Heap of
Fustian, Scurrility,
and
Falsehood.
THIS Circumstance hath always appeared to me a Demonstration, that Passion and Prejudice have had a greater Share than Reason, in deciding upon the Merits of this Work; which many read with Displeasure, more with Admiration, but few with impartial Judgment. 'Tis probable, the Truth lies between the two Extremes of these discordant Opinions: and that the noble Writer hath mingled Beauties and Blots, Faults and Excellencies, with a liberal and unsparing Hand.
THESE, so far as they relate to
Religion
and
Morals,
it is my present Intention to point out, without Regard to the bigoted Censures of his Friends or Enemies: While I foresee, that some will
frown
upon me for allowing him any Thing, and others treat me with a
contemptuous Smile
for presuming to differ with him at all.
THE first Thing that occurs to an unprejudiced Mind, in the Perusal of the
Characteristics,
is that generous Spirit of
Freedom
which shines throughout the whole. The noble Author every where asserts that natural Privilege of Man, which hath been so often denied him, of seeing with his own Eyes, and judging by his own Reason. It may possibly appear strange to some, why he should so extremely labour a Point so plain. But in Justice to his Lordship these Gentlemen must remember, or be informed, that in former Times, some well-designing Men among ourselves, from a groundless Dread of an unlimited Freedom of the Press, attempted to make a most unnatural and cruel Separation between
Truth
and
Liberty.
Having shaken off the Corruptions of
Popery,
and established what they thought a pure and perfect System, they unhappily stopped short in their full Carrier of Glory; preposterously attempting to deprive others of that common Privilege which they had so nobly exercised themselves. This mistaken Spirit seemed entirely subdued by the excellent LOCKE, and others, about the Time of the Revolution: But at the Period when our noble Author wrote, it not only revived, but was heightened by a terrible Accession of Bitterness and Rancour. Hence those frequent Sallies of Invective, which he throws out against this intolerant Principle, which he justly stigmatizeth as equally impolitic, irrational, and unchristian.
'TIS the Glory of our Days, that this accursed Spirit of Persecution is at least dying away. What Pity that we cannot add, it is wholly extinguished! It is true, we most of us profess ourselves Friends to a Freedom of Inquiry,
in the Main.
But why,
in the Main?
Why that needless Circumstance of Hesitation? Would we embrace Error? Or do we think that Truth can suffer by the most rigid Scrutiny? On the contrary, not only the Perfection, but the very Being of Knowledge depends on the Exercise of Freedom. For whatever some may fear from an open and unlimited Enquiry, it seems evidently the only Means vouchsafed us for the Attainment of Truth. The
Abuse
of it may be
hurtful,
but the
Want
of it is
fatal.
Such, indeed, are the clear and undoubted Principles of our Religion: Neither sure can these Declarations surprize us. For if human and political Establishments had been sacred or unviolable, where had been our
Protestantism;
nay, where our
Christianity?
Dare we then to desert or discountenance a Principle, on which not only the Purity, but the very Existence of our Religion depends? Nor is this Principle less consonant with the strictest Reason. It is Falsehood only that loves and retires into Darkness. Truth delights in the Day; and demands no more than a just Light, to appear in perfect Beauty. A rigid Examination is its only Test: For Experience hath taught us, that even
Obstinacy
and
Error
can endure the
Fires
of Persecution: But it is genuine Truth, and that alone, which comes out pure and
unchanged
from the
severer Tortures
of Debate.
IT will ever be our truest Praise therefore, to join the noble Apologist in his Encomiums on
Freedom;
the only permanent Basis on which
Religion
or
Virtue
can be established. Nor can we less approve his frequent Recommendations of
Politeness, Chearfulness,
and
Good-humour,
in the Prosecution of our most important Enquiries. The morose, contemptuous, and surly Species of Composition is generally an Appendage to Bigotry, as appears in Instances innumerable, both among the mistaken Friends and Enemies of Religion. On the contrary, the amiable Qualities of Chearfulness and Good-humour, cast a Kind of Sunshine over a Composition, and naturally engage us in Favour of the Writer. They resemble that gentle Smile that often lights up the human Countenance, the never-failing Indication of a humane Temper. How naturally then must we be disposed to listen; how open our Minds to receive Conviction, when we perceive our Opponent's Intention is benevolent: When we perceive that his Aim is not
Victory,
but
Information:
that he means not to
insult,
but to
instruct
us.
SO far, out of an unfeigned Regard to Truth, it should be my Boast to take Party with the noble Writer: On the same Principle it will now be necessary to depart from him. For, not content with establishing the free Exercise of Reason, and the Way of Chearfulness, in treating the Subjects of Religion and Morals; he revolts from the Principle on which the rational Advocates for Religion were willing to have joined him, and appeals to a new Test,
the Test of Ridicule.
This, in his two first Treatises, he attempts to establish as a surer Method of Conviction: And
that
Ridicule, which had hitherto been employed in
disgracing known Falsehood,
he informs us, may be successfully applied to the
Investigation
of
unknown Truth.
HE hath gained a numerous Train of Followers in this new Opinion: It may be therefore necessary to examine its Foundations.
SECTION II.
'TIS great Pity the noble Author hath not condescended to a little more
Precision
in treating the Question now before us. He indulges the Gaiety of Spirit, the Freedom of
Wit
and
Humour
so far, that a Reader, who seeks Information rather than Amusement, is often at a Loss to know where his Argument, or even his Opinion, lies. This, no doubt, was in Part owing to a generous Abhorrence of
Pedantry,
which he takes all Occasions of exposing to Contempt. Yet a better Reason may possibly be alledged: For in recommending and enforcing the
Use of Ridicule,
what could be more natural and proper than the
Power of Ridicule
itself? To draw a striking Picture of demure Folly and solemn Imposture, was a Masterpiece of Prudence: But to have argued
seriously,
would have destroyed his Argument: It would have been a tacit Confession, that there is a deeper Foundation, on which Ridicule itself must rest, he must therefore have overturned, even while he intended to establish this new Pillar, and
Ground of Truth.
HERE then we discover why the noble Author is so witty in Defence of Wit, and chuses to maintain the Cause of Raillery by Raillery itself. He smiles at his Adversary, who had attempted to find Coherence in his first Letter
Vol. iii. p. 18, 20.
. He glories in being an Adventurer in the Way of
Miscellany;
where
"Cuttings and Shreds of Learning, with various Fragments and Points of Wit, are drawn together and tacked in any fantastic Form. Where the Wild and Whimsical, under the Name of the Odd and Pretty, succeed in the Room of the Graceful and Beautiful: Where Justness and Accuracy of Thought are set aside, as too constraining, and of too painful an Aspect, to be endured in the agreeable and more easy Commerce of Gallantry and modern Wit
Ibid. p. 5, &c.
."
Hence with Reason he proceeds to his Conclusion, that
"Grounds and Foundations are of no Moment, in a Kind of Work, which, according to modern Establishment, has properly neither
Top
nor
Bottom, Beginning
nor
End.
Vol. iii. p. 8.
."
IT must be confessed, that in the Conduct of the literary Warfare, they who depend on the Regularity and Force of
Arguments,
have but a sorry Chance against these nimble Adventurers in the
Sallies
of Wit and Ridicule; these
Hussars
in Disputation, who confide more in their Agility, than Strength or Discipline; and by sudden
Evolutions
and timely
Skulking,
can do great Mischiefs, without receiving any. Ill qualified, indeed, is the
saturnine
Complexion of the dry
Reasoner,
to cope with this
mercurial
Spirit of modern
Wit:
The Formalist is under a double Difficulty; not only to
conquer
his Enemy, but to
find
him. Though it must be owned, the Search is a harder Task than the
Victory;
and more mortifying, as it ends in shewing us that this redoubted Figure of
Ridicule,
armed at all Points like
Reason,
is no other than an airy Phantom, tricked up by the Goddess of Folly, to confound formal Wisdom; as that other in the Poet, to mislead his Hero:
Tum dea nube cava
tenuem sine viribus umbram
In faciem Aeneae (visu mirabile monstrum)
Dardaniis ornat telis:
clypeumque, jubasque
Divini
assimilat
capitis;
dat
inania verba,
Dat
sine mente sonum,
gressusque effingit euntis.
Illum autem absentem Aeneas in praelia poscit.
Tunc levis haud ultra
latebras
jam
quaerit
imago,
Sed sublime volans,
nubi
se
immiscuit
atrae
Virg. Aen. x. ℣ 636, &c.
.
SINCE, therefore, the noble Writer declines treating this Subject in the Way of close Argument; we must take our Chance with him upon the Terms he hath been pleased to prescribe. We must be content to go a
Gleaning
for his Opinions, and
pick them up
as they lie thinly scattered through a wide Extent of Pages.
BUT, however, his Lordship's high Quality may exempt him from the established Forms of Argument, it were the Height of Imprudence in Writers of inferior Rank, to attempt an Imitation of his peculiar Manner. His delicate Raillery, therefore, will best be repayed by sober Reasoning. This, sure, his most zealous Admirers cannot take amiss: It is the noble Author's allowed Maxim, that
"a Jest which will not bear a serious Examination is certainly false Wit
Vol. i. p. 74.
."
Neither was he a Stranger to the methodical Species of Composition: As appears from that fine Chain of moral Reasoning which connects his Enquiry concerning Virtue: Where he proceeds through the Work with a Pace equally regular and majestic. Indeed should we form our Idea of him from the Attitudes in which his sorry Mimics present him to our View, we should see him labouring through a confused Mass of Words and random Half-meanings, entangled in his own Argument, and throwing himself into every unnatural and awkward Posture, to make his Way, though in vain, into common Sense. But this is a very bad Picture of our noble Author: Though it be all his affected Admirers can exhibit of him in their own Productions. Deformities are easily copied: True Features and graceful Attitudes are caught by the Hand of a
Master
only. For in Reality, none ever knew the Value of Order and Proportion better than Lord SHAFTESBURY. He knew that Confusion can only tend to
disgrace
Truth, or
disguise
Falsehood. Method, indeed, may degenerate into Stiffness, but to despise Order, is the silliest
Affectation.
Especially when the slovenly and consused Form of the Composition (if it may be properly said to have any) pretends to the Character of
Elegance,
it becomes of all others the grossest and most
contemptible Pedantry.
SECTION III.
THE divine Author of our Being having given us several different Powers,
Sense, Imagination, Memory,
and
Reason,
as the Inlets, Preservers, and Improvers of Knowledge; it may be proper here briefly to remark their respective Provinces. As the
Senses
are the Fountains whence we derive all our Ideas; so these are infinitely combined and associated by the
Imagination: Memory
preserves these Assemblages of Things:
Reason
compares, distinguishes, and separates them: By this Means determining their Differences, and pointing out which are
real,
and which
fictitious.
THE
Passions
are no more than the several Modes of Pleasure and Pain, to which the Author of Nature hath wisely subjected us, for our own and each others Preservation.
Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's smiling Train;
Hate, Fear, and Grief, the Family of Pain.
To these we may add two more of a mixed Kind,
Pity
and
Contempt,
which seem to partake of both Pain and Pleasure.
AS the
Senses
and
Imagination
are the Sources of all our Ideas, it follows that they are the Sources of all our Modes of Pleasure and Pain: That is, of all our
Passions.
Nor is any Passion
strongly excited
in the Soul by mere Knowledge only, till the
Imagination
hath formed to itself some Kind of
Picture
or
Representation
of the Good or Evil apprehended. Thus ARISTOTLE justly defines Fear to be a Kind of Pain arising from the
Phantasy
or
Appearance
of future Evil
Arist. Rhet. 1. ii. c. 5.
. Consistently with this, he again truly observes, that though all Men know they must die, yet, while
Death
is at a Distance, they never think of it
Ib. 1. ii. c. 5.
. The same may be observed concerning the Belief of
future Existence;
which never sways the Conduct of Mankind, till the
Imagination
is strongly
impressed
by steady and repeated Contemplation.
AS therefore it appears to be the Province of
Sense
and
Imagination
to present and associate Ideas, but not to mark their real Differences; and as the Passions are always excited according to the Suggestions of these two powers; it follows, that
apparent,
not
real
Good and Evil are universally the Objects of all our Passions. Thus the respective Objects of Joy, Fear, Anger, are apparent Good, apparent Danger, apparent Injury. Universally, whether the Object be real or fictitious, while it is
apparent
(that is, while the Imagination represents it as
real
) it will produce its relative Passion.
IT is the Province of
Reason
alone, to
correct
the Passions. Imagination and Passion can never correct themselves. Every Assemblage of Ideas, every Impression made upon them, hath an Object
apparently real:
Therefore without the Aids of
Reason,
the
active
and
separating
Power, the Mind can never distinguish
real
from
fictitious
Objects. And as it is the Province of Reason only, thus to regulate the Senses and Imagination, and to determine when they impress a Truth, or suggest a Falsehood: so it is no less the Province of the same corrective Power, to determine concerning the Modes of
apparent
Good and Evil, and thus to fix both our
Opinions
and
Passions
on their proper Objects
Some of these Truths are both finely and philosophically expressed by our great Poet in the following Passage:
But know, that in the Soul
Are many lesser Faculties, that serve
Reason as chief: Among these, Fancy next
Her Office holds: Of all external Things
Which the five watchful Senses represent,
She forms Imaginations, aery Shapes,
Which Reason joining or dis-joining, frames
All what we affirm, or what deny, and call
Our Knowledge, or Opinion.
Parad. Lost,
B. v. ℣ 100, &c.
.
UPON this just Dependance of Imagination and Passion on the superior and leading Faculty of Reason, the whole Weight of this Question concerning the Application and Use of
Ridicule
depends. But that we may obtain as wide a View as possible of our Subject, it may be proper to ascertain the Nature, Limits, and Ends of the different Kinds of literary Composition, which take their Rise from these three different Powers, as they subsist in Man. Thus we shall discover, to which of them
the Way of Ridicule
is to be referred, and determine how far it
may,
or
may not,
with Propriety be regarded as a
Test of Truth.
PERHAPS there is no Species of Writing (except only that of mere
Narration
) but what will fall under the Denomination of
Poetry, Eloquence,
or
Argument.
The first lays hold of the Imagination; the second, through the Imagination, seizes the Passions; the last addresseth itself to the Reason of Mankind. The immediate,
essential
End therefore of Poetry is to
please,
of Eloquence to
persuade,
of Argument to
instruct.
To this End, the Poet dwells on such Images as are
beautiful;
the Orator selects every Circumstance that is
affecting;
the Philosopher only admits what is
true.
But as all these, in their several Kinds of Writing, address themselves to
Man,
who is compounded of
Imagination, Passion,
and
Reason;
so they seldom confine themselves to their respective Provinces, but lay hold of each others Art, the more effectually to gain Admission and Success to their own. Yet still, the
Masters
in these various Kinds of Composition, know how to keep their several Boundaries
distinct;
not to make unwarrantable Inroads into each others Provinces, nor remove those Lines which Nature hath prescribed: But so to limit their Excursions, that the Intelligent may always know what is designed, a
Poem,
an
Oration,
or an
Argument
Would it not carry us too far from our Subject, it might perhaps be both a new and pleasing Speculation, to point out the Writers in these several Kinds, who have been most remarkably
excellent
or
defective,
with Regard to
this just Union of these three Species of Composition.
At present it must suffice, to have hinted such a Criticism, which the Reader may easily prosecute.
.
THUS the judicious Poet, though his immediate and universal Aim is beautiful Imitation, yet in order to become more
pleasing,
endeavours often to be
interesting,
always to be
rational.
His Application being made to
Man,
should he let loose Imagination to its random Flights, he must shock the
Reason
of every penetrating Observer. Hence appears the Necessity of cultivating that Maxim in poetical Composition, which the two best of
French
Critics,
Boileau
and
Bouhours
have so much insisted on;
"that all poetical Beauty must be founded in Truth
Que si on me demande ce que c'est que cet agrément et ce fel—à mon avis, il consiste principalement à ne jamais presenter au lecteur que des
pens
s vrais,
et des
expressions justes.
Oeuvres de Boileau,
tom. i.
Pref.
p. 29.
Car enfin, pour vous dire un peu par ordre ce quc je pense la dessu,
la verité
est la premiere qualité, et comme le fondement des pensées: les plus belles sont vitieuses; ou plutot celles qui passent pour belles, et qui semblent l'etre, ne le sont pas en effet, si ce fonds leur manque.
Bouhours, Man. de bien pens.
p. 11.
."
Because in the unlimited Excursions of Fancy, though one Faculty should approve, yet another is disgusted: Though Imagination
acquiesce
in false Beauty, Reason will
reject
it with Disdain. Thus, although the primary and essential End of Poetry is to
please
by Imitation; yet as it is addressed to Man,
Instruction
makes a necessary, though an
adventitious
Part of its Character
Hence the Debate mentioned by
Strabo
(l. i.) between
Eratosthenes,
and some of the
Ancients,
may easily be decided. The first insisting that
Pleasure,
the other that
Instruction,
was the only End of
Poetry.
They were both wrong: as it appears that these two Ends must always be united in some Degree. However,
Eratosthenes
was nearer the Truth, as he alledged the
essential
End. 'Tis no bad Description, given by Mr.
Dryden
and others, of the End of Poetry, that it is
"to
instruct
by
pleasing:
"
Though upon the whole, it throws more Weight on the Circumstance of
Instruction,
than the Thing will bear. The Admirers of Lord
S.
who love pompous Declamation, may see a great deal said on this Subject, and with little Precision, in
Strada's
Third Prolusion.
.
FROM this View of Things we may, in passing, further see the
Nature, Limits,
and
comparative Excellence
of the various Kinds of Poetry. The
Descriptive
holds entirely of the Imagination, and may be termed
pure Poetry
or Imitation: Yet, with regard to the
secondary
End of Instruction, it seems to merit only the lowest Place, because it is then perfect when it satisfies the Imagination; and while it offends not Reason, or the Affections, nothing further with regard to these Faculties is expected from it. The
Tragic, Comic, Satiric,
and the
Elegy,
as they chiefly regard the
Passions
and the Heart of Man, so they draw much of their Force from the Sources of
Eloquence.
On the other hand, the
Didactic,
as it makes its chief Application to Reason, though it retains so much of the Graces of Imagination, as to merit the Name of Poetry, is principally of the
logical
Species. The
Epic,
by its great Extent, includes all these Kinds by turns, and is therefore the
noblest,
both in its
primary
and
secondary
Intention. Much indeed hath been occasionally asserted by several Writers, concerning the superior Dignity of the
tragic
Species
Thus the excellent Mr.
Addison:
"A perfect Tragedy is the noblest Production of humane Nature."
Spectator,
No 39.
: But this hath been more in the Way of Assirmation than Proof. Their Opinion seems to have been founded on a mistaken Interpretation of ARISTOTLE, whose supposed Authority on this Subject hath generally passed unquestioned. But whoever shall thoroughly examine the Sentiments of the
grand Master,
will find he only meant to assert, that the
Mode of Imitation
in
Tragedy
is more forcible, and therefore superior to that of the
epic
Kind; because in the
last,
the Action is only
told,
in the former, it is
visibly represented.
This is the Truth. But if we consider, not the
Mode
of Imitation, but the
Subjects
imitated; if we consider the comparative
Greatness
of the Action which these two Kinds of Poetry can comprehend; and the moral Ends of
Instruction,
no less than the Variety and Beauty of
Description,
which constitutes the very Essence of Poetry; we shall find the Epic greatly superior, on account of the Extent and Importance of those
Actions,
and the Variety of
Characters
which it is capable of involving. Thus for Instance, such an Action as the Death of OEDIPUS or CATO may be more perfectly imitated (because
visibly
represented) in Tragedy, than in the Epos: But a much greater and more extensive Action, such as the
Establishment of an Empire,
with all its subordinate Episodes, religious, political, and moral, cannot be comprehended or exhibited in
Tragedy,
while yet they may be perfectly described in the
Epopée.
SO much concerning
Poetry
will be found to have Relation to our Subject. But as the Question concerning
Ridicule
will turn chiefly on the proper Subordination of
Eloquence,
it will be necessary to consider this Kind of Composition in a more particular Manner.
ELOQUENCE then is no other than a Species of Poetry applied to the particular End of Persuasion. For Persuasion can only be effected by rowzing the Passions of the Soul; and these, we have seen, are only to be moved by a Force impressed on the Imagination, assuming the Appearance of Truth; which is the essential Nature of poetical Composition. Thus the Lord VERULAM:
"In all Persuasions that are wrought by Eloquence, and other Impression of like Nature, which paint and disguise the true Appearance of Things, the chief Recommendation unto
Reason,
is from the
Imagination
De Aug. Scient. 1. ii.
."
And the judicious
Strabo,
consistently with this Theory, tells us, that in Fact
"the oratorial Elocution was but an Imitation of the poetical: This appeared first, and was approved: They who imitated it, took off the Measures, but still preserved all the other Parts of Poetry in their Writings: Such were CADMUS the Milesian, PHERECYDES, and HECATAEUS. Their Followers then took something more from what was left, and at length Elocution descended into the Prose which is now among us
Strabo, lib. i.
.
THUS as the Passions must have an
apparent Object
of Good or Evil offered by the Imagination in order to excite them; so Eloquence must offer
apparent Evidence
ere it can be received and acquiesced in: For the Mind cannot embrace known Falsehood. So that every Opinion which Eloquence instills, though it be the pure Result of certain fictitious Images impressed on the Fancy, is always regarded as the Result of rational Conviction, and received by the Mind as Truth.
HENCE we may perceive the just Foundation of the well-known Maxim in rhetorical Composition,
Artis est celare artem.
In every other Art, where the End is Pleasure, Instruction, or Admiration, the greater Art the Master displays, the more effectually he gains his Purpose. But where the End is Persuasion, the Discovery of his Art must defeat its Force and Design. For ere he can persuade, he must seem to apply to his Hearer's
Reason,
while, in Fact, he is working on his Imagination and Affections: Now this, once known, must defeat his Purpose; because nothing can persuade but what has the
Appearance of Truth.
HENCE too we may see where the true Medium lies between the too frequent
Use,
and delicate
Avoidance
of poetical Images, in Eloquence. Metaphors, Similies, bold Figures, and glowing Expressions are proper, so far as they point the Imagination to the main Subject on which the Passion is to be excited: When they begin to
amuse,
they grow absurd. And here, by the way, lies the essential Difference between the
Epic
and
Tragic
Composition. For the
Epic,
tending chiefly to Admiration and Instruction, allows a full Display of Art: But the
Tragic,
being of the persuasive Kind, must only regard and touch upon poetical Images in this single View,
as they tend to rowze the Passions of the Soul.
MACROBIUS
Saturnal. 1. iv. passim.
hath collected many elegant Examples of this
poctic Elocution
from the
Eneid:
He hath ranged them in Classes, and pointed out the Fountains whence the great Poet drew his
Pathos:
And sure, it may with Truth be affirmed, that
"the Masterstrokes of that divine Work are rather of the
Tragic,
than the
Epic
Species."
THESE Remarks will enable us to discover the Impropriety of an Opinion commonly held
See Mr. Hume's Essay on Eloquence.
;
"that the Reason why Eloquence had such Power, and wrought such Wonders in
Athens
and
Rome,
was, because it had become the general Taste and Study of the Times: That consequently these Cities were more sensible to its Charms, and therefore more warmly affected by it."
Now, though with regard to pure
Poetry
or strict
Argument,
where either Pleasure or Truth are the purposed Ends, this Reasoning might hold; yet, when applied to
Eloquence,
it seems to be without Foundation. For where
Ignorance
is predominant,
there
any Application to the Fancy or the Passions is most likely to wear the Appearance of Reason, and therefore the most likely to persuade. As Men improve in Knowledge, such Application must proportionably lose its Force, and true Reasoning prevail. Hence it should seem, that they who make the constituent Principles of Eloquence familiar to their Imagination, must of all others be best enabled to separate
Truth
from its
Appearances,
and distinguish between
Argument
and
Colouring.
An artful Oration will indeed afford great Pleasure to one who hath applied himself to the Study of Rhetoric: Yet, not so as that he shall be
persuaded
by it: On the contrary, his Pleasure consists in a reflex Act of the Understanding; and arises from the very Circumstance which prevents Persuasion, a
Discovery of the Master's Art.
THE true Reason therefore, why Eloquence gained such mighty Power in these famed Republics was,
"because the Orators addressed themselves to the
People
as their
Judges.
"
Here the Art triumphed: for it had not
Reason
to instruct, but
Imagination
and
Passion
to controul. Accordingly we find, that no sooner was the popular Government destroy'd, and the supreme Power lodged in a single Hand, than Eloquence began sensibly to languish and decay: The mighty Orators, who could sway the Passions of a mixed Multitude, found their Art baffled and overthrown when opposed to the cool Determinations of cunning Ministers, or the determined Will of arbitrary Masters. Thus with great Judgment, though not much Honesty, the
Roman
Poet exhorts his Countrymen to disdain the low Accomplishments of Eloquence: He knew they belonged to a Republic:
Excudent alii spirantia mollius aera—
Orabunt causas melius—
Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento:
Hae tibi crunt artes
Eneïd. 1. vi.
.—
With the same Penetration he lays the Scene in a
popular Assembly,
when he gives us a Picture of Eloquence triumphant. I mean in that sine Passage where he compares NEPTUNE
stilling the Noise of the Waves,
to an
Orator appeasing the Madness of the People:
Ac veluti
magno in populo
cum saepe coorta est
Seditio, saevitque animis
ignobile vulgus;
Jamque saces et saxa volant; furor arma ministrat;
Tum pietate gravem ac meritis si forte virum quem
Conspexere, silent,
arrectisque auribus astant:
Ille
regit dictis animos,
et pectora mulcet:
Sic cunctus pelagi cecidit fragor
En. 1. i.
.—
'Tis true, we have a supposed Instance on Record, of the Power of TULLY's Eloquence, after Liberty was destroy'd, even on the great
Destroyer
himself. When we read the Oration
Pro Ligario.
, we stand amazed at its Effects: For sure there is nothing
equal
to them in the Composition itself: And it appears an Event almost unaccountable, that CESAR, who was himself an accomplished Orator, who knew all the Windings of the Art, and was at the same Time of the most determined Spirit, should be so shaken on this Occasion as to tremble, drop his Papers, and acquit the Prisoner. Though many have attributed this to the Force of TULLY's
Elocution
Casaubon, Sir W. Temple, Mr. Hume, &c.
; it seems rather to have been the Effect of CESAR's
Art.
We know with what unwearied Application he courted CICERO's Friendship; he saw where his Vanity and his Weakness lay: With perfect Address therefore he play'd back the Orator's Art upon himself: His concern was
feigned,
and his Mercy
artificial;
as he knew that nothing could so effectually win TULLY to his Party, as giving him the Pride of having
conquered
CESAR.
BUT whatever of Truth there may be in this Conjecture; so much is evident, that the Scene where alone Eloquence can work its mighty Effects, is that of a
popular Assembly.
An absolute Monarchy quencheth it at once. Nor can public Freedom itself give it any considerable Play, where the public Freedom hath any firmer Basis, than that of a mere Democracy. For where the Councils of a Nation depend on the united Reason of elected Representatives, or wise and cunning Statesmen, though the laboured Essays of Eloquence may often
amuse,
they will seldom
determine.
This seems to be the Case of our own Age and Country: And were it necessary to enlarge on this Subject, it might be made appear, that they who complain of the Decay of public Eloquence among us, assign a Cause which hath no real Existence, when they attribute that Decay to a Neglect of the Art
See Mr. Hume's Essay on Eloquence.
, while, in Fact, it necessarily arises from the ruling Principles of the Times, and the Nature of our Constitution.
THUS Eloquence gains its End of Persuasion by offering
apparent
Truth to the Imagination; as Argument gains its proper End of Conviction by offering
real
Truth to the Understanding. Mr. HOBBES seems to have been well aware of this Distinction.
"This, says he,
viz.
laying Evidence before the Mind, is called
teaching;
the Hearer is therefore said to
learn:
But if there be not such Evidence, then such teaching is called
Persuasion,
and begetteth no more in the Hearer, than what is in the Speaker's
bare Opinion
Hobbes on Hum. Nature.
."
HERE then we perceive, that the Consequences of Eloquence, with regard to speculative
Instruction
and
Inquiry,
are of a very different Nature from those which relate to
Morals
and
Action.
To Instruction or Inquiry, every Species of Eloquence must for ever be an Enemy: For though it may lead the Mind to acquiesce in a just Opinion, yet it leads it to acquiesce upon a false Foundation: It puts the Hearer or Reader in the Speaker's or Writer's Power: And though he be so honest as to lead him in the Path of Truth, yet still he leads him
blind-fold.
In this Sense, and under this Limitation, Mr. LOCKE's Remark is true:
"We must allow that all the Art of Rhetoric, besides Order and Clearness, all the artificial and figurative Application of Words Eloquence hath invented, are for nothing else but to
insinuate wrong
Ideas,
move the Passions,
and
thereby mislead
the Judgment, and so indeed are perfect Cheats
Locke on Hum. Und.
."
But if we regard what is of more Importance to Man, than mere speculative Truth, I mean the
practical Ends
of human Life and moral Action; then Eloquence assumes a higher Nature: Nor is there, in this practical Sense, any necessary Connexion between
moving
the Passions, and
misleading
the Judgment. For though the Ends of Truth and Persuasion are then essentially different when the Orator strikes the Imagination with fictitious Images, in which case Falsehood becomes apparent Truth, and Eloquence the Instrument of Deceit; yet the Ends of Persuasion and Conviction, Opinion and Knowledge
concur,
when such Impressions are made on the Imagination and Passions, as consist with the Dictates of right Reason. In this case, Eloquence comes in to the Aid of Argument, and
impresses
the Truths which Logic teaches, in a warmer and more effectual Manner. It paints real Good and Evil in all the glowing Colours of Imagination, and thus inflames the Heart with double Ardor to embrace the one, and reject the other.
NAY, so far is Eloquence from being the universal Instrument of practical Deceit; that on the contrary, it should seem, the
moral
is more natural than the
immoral
Application of it. Because, ere the dishonest Application can take place, Circumstances must be wrested, and Misrepresentations imposed on the Fancy, in Opposition to Truth and Reason: Whereas in the proper Application, nothing further is necessary, than to draw out and impress those Images and Analogies of Things, which really exist in Nature.
IT may be further observed, that as Eloquence is of a vague, unsteady Nature, merely relative to the Imaginations and Passions of Mankind; so there must be several Orders or Degrees of it, subordinate to each other in Dignity, yet each perfect in their Kind. The common
End
of each is Persuasion: The
Means
are different according to the various Capacities, Fancies, and Affections of those whom the Artist attempts to persuade. The pathetic Orator, who throws a
Congregation
of
Enthusiasts
into Tears and Groanings, would raise Affections of a very different Nature, should he attempt to proselyte an
English Parliament:
As on the other hand, the finest Speaker that ever commanded
the House,
would in vain point the Thunder of his Eloquence on a
Quaker-meeting.
So again, with regard to the Oratory (if it may be called so) of the
Bar,
at a
Country Assize
(for the higher Courts of Justice admit not Eloquence) it is easy to observe, what a different Tour the learned Council takes, in addressing himself to the
Judge
or
Jury:
He is well aware, that what passes with the
one
for
Argument
of Proof, would be derided by the
other
as pastboard
Declamation.
This Difference in the Kind, with respect to the Eloquence of the
Pulpit,
is no less remarkable in different Countries. Thus the very agreeable and sensible VOLTAIRE observes, that
"in
France (where Reasoning hath little Connexion with Religion)
a Sermon is a long Declamation, spoken with Rapture and Enthusiasm: That in
Italy (where Taste and Vertú give a Tincture to Superstition itself)
a Sermon is a Kind of devotional Comedy: That in
England (where Religion submits to Reason)
it is a solid Dissertation,
sometimes a dry one,
which is read to the Congregation without Action or Elocution
The Passage in the Original is thus:
"Un sermon en France est une longue declamation scrupuleusement divisée en trois points, et recitée avec enthousiasme. En Angleterre un sermon est une dissertation solide,
et quelquesois seche,
qu'un homme lit au peuple sans geste, et sans aucune eclat de voix. En Italie c'est une comedie spirituelle."
."
And he justly concludes, that the Discourse which raiseth a French Audience to the highest Pitch of Devotion, would throw an
English
one into a Fit of Laughter.
HENCE too, and hence alone, we may account for a Fact, which, however, seemingly improbable, is too well-known to be doubted of:
"That although in
France,
the applauded Pulpit Eloquence is of the
Enthusiastic,
in
England
of the severe and
rational
Species; yet the Taste of these two Nations in Tragedy or
Theatrical Eloquence,
is mutually
reversed:
The
English
are Enthusiastic; the
French
severe and rational."
Now, though this Fact may carry the Appearance of Selfcontradiction, yet on the Principle here laid down, the known Circumstances of the two Kingdoms will explain it sufficiently. In
England,
a general Spirit of
Reasoning
and Enquiry hath extinguished the natural Enthusiasms of the human Mind in
religious Subjects;
while our unrestrained Warmth of Imagination, and habitual Reverence for the noble Irregularities of SHAKESPEAR, concur to make us despise the rigid Laws of the Stage: On the contrary, in
France,
the Severities of the
Academy
have utterly quenched the high Tragic Spirit; while, as yet,
religious Criticism
hath made but little Progress among the Subjects of the
most Christian King.
IN further Proof of this Principle, we may appeal to ancient Fact: To the Progress of Eloquence in
Greece.
There we find, it first appeared, decked in all the glowing Colours of Poetry: afterwards, in an Age of more polished Manners and extensive Knowledge, when the Rhetors attempted to carry this Kind of Eloquence to a still higher Degree, they found the Times would not bear it: They were baffled in their Attempt. As succeeding Ages grew more knowing, they grew more fastidious and refined: The Orators were obliged gradually to lower and bring down Eloquence from its high Standard: Till at length it gained a Form and Character entirely new, as we find it in XENOPHON's chastised Manner of
Attic
Elegance
See the Passage quoted above from Strabo, p. 22. § 3.
.
TO conclude with one Proof more in Favour of this Principle. It appears that these different Kinds were acknowledged sufficiently in ancient
Rome;
though the true Distinction between them seems not to have been thoroughly perceived, unless by TULLY himself. The correct and
Attic
Species having gained a Number of Admirers under the Patronage of SALLUST, who first encouraged it in
Rome
Sic
Sallustio
vigente, amputatae sententiae, et verba ante expectatum cadentia, et obscura brevitas, fuere pro cultu.
Senec. Epist.
, many were the Debates concerning the superior Force and Propriety of
this
or the more
elevated Manner.
The Patrons of the
Attic
Style derided CICERO, as being
loose, tumid,
and
exuberant
Constat, nec Ciceroni quidem obtrectatores defuisse, quibus inflatus et tumens, nec satis pressus, supra modum exultans, et superfluens, et
parum Atticus
videretur.
Dialog. apud Tacit.
: On the contrary, he too had his Partizans, who despised the calm and correct Species, as void of Energy and Power
Mihi falli multum videntur, qui solos esse Atticos credunt, tenues et lucidos et significantes, sed quadam eloquentiae frugalitate contentos, ac manum semper intra pallium continentes.
Quintil.
. Thus by overlooking the
relative
Nature of Eloquence, they mutually fell into an Extreme; both forgetting, that either of these Kinds might be of superior Propriety and Force, according to the Imaginations, Passions, and Capacities of those to whom they should be applied. But TULLY, with a superior Sagacity, saw clearly where the true Distinction lay: For, speaking of CALVUS, a Patronizer of the
Attic
Manner, he says,
"HENCE his Eloquence gained a high Reputation among
the Learned and Attentive;
but among
the Vulgar,
for whom Eloquence was chiefly formed, it was of no Esteem
Sed ad
Calvum
revertamur—ejus oratio, nimia religione attenuata, doctis et attente audientibus erat illustris; a multitudine autem et à soro, cui nata eloquentia est, devorabatur.
In Brut.
."
NOW among these several Kinds of Eloquence, Justness of Thought and Expression, striking Figures, Argument adorned with every pathetic Grace, are the Characters of the
highest:
Sophistry and Buffoonry, ambiguous and dishonest Hints, coarse Language, false and indecent Images, are the Characters of the
lowest.
Between these two Extremes, there lies a Variety of intermediate Kinds, each ascending towards the highest, in Proportion as they abound with its proper Characters. For as the Imagination and Passions are then most refined and just, when they bear to the same Point with Reason; so, that Species of Eloquence is the noblest which tends to conduct them thither
Les Egyptiens comparoient ceux qui preferent le coloris au dessein dans la peinture, à ceux qui en matiere d'eloquence et de poesie preferent les pensées brillantes aux pensées justes. Ciceron, le maitre et le modele de l'eloquence latine, a dit en appliquant sa reflexion à l'orateur, que nous laissons bientôt des Tableaux qui nous attirent d'abord par la force du coloris; au lieu que nous revenons toujours à ceux qui excellent par la beauté du dessein, qui est le vrai caractere de l'antique.
Sethos, 1. ii. p. 80.
. On this Principle, and on this alone, we may with Propriety and Precision determine the comparative Excellence and Dignity of those who aspire to the Palm of Eloquence. On this Principle it seems to be, that a severe, but able, Judge prefers DEMOSTHENES to TULLY
See Dr. Swift's Letter to a Young Clergyman.
: and on this Principle he deserves the Preference.
THUS we are at length arrived at the Point where Eloquence and Argument, Persuasion and Conviction unite; where the Orator's Art becomes subservient to the Interests of
Truth,
and only labours to adorn and recommend Her.
WE come now to the third Species of Composition, that of
Argument:
Which applying solely to the Reason of Man, and to the Proof or Investigation of Truth, is of a more simple and uncompounded Nature in its Principles, and therefore needs not to be so particularly explained. For Pleasure being the primary End of Poetry, and Persuasion that of Eloquence, the real Nature of Things is often in Part disguised, and compelled to bend to the Imagination and the Passions: But
Truth
being the End of Argument, the varying Colours of Imagination and Passion must be drawn off; and human Reason itself bend to the real, uniform Nature of Things.
YET on this Occasion it may be proper to remark, that the
rational Faculty
in Man cannot be comprehensive or perfect in its Operations, without a Union with a
strong Imagination.
And this, not only in the Arts of Poetry or Eloquence, but in the
severest Investigations
of Truth. For Reason alone cannot search out new Ideas, but only compare and distinguish those which Sense and Imagination present to her, and the Senses being of small Extent, Imagination is therefore the great universal Instrument of human Knowledge and human Action. Without the Aids of Imagination therefore, Reason works in a contracted Sphere; being destitute of Materials; unable to make the necessary Excursions into the Immensity of Nature; and wanting that Power which alone can range through the whole Extent of created Being, and bring Home all the possible and apparent Analogies of Things, setting them before her discerning Eye, and submitting them to her sovereign Approbation or Dislike. From this noble Union arises that
boundless Penetration,
which so far surpasseth
mere Judgment:
and which, according as it is exerted in Poetry, Eloquence, Philosophy, Morals, or Religion, strikes into the various and untroden Paths of Nature and Truth; forms the distinguished Names of HOMER, SHAKESPEAR, MILTON, DEMOSTHENES, TULLY, ARISTOTLE, BACON, LOCKE, BAYLE, PASCAL, NEWTON, HOOKER, BERKLEY, WARBURTON, giving that essential Superiority and Preheminence, which hath ever been, first the
Envy,
and then the
Admiration
of Mankind.
THUS as it appeared above, how necessary the Restraints of Reason are, to the Perfection of Works of Imagination; so here it is evident, that a full Union of Imagination is necessary to the perfect Operations of Reason. Taken singly, they are each
defective:
When their Powers are joined, they constitute TRUE GENIUS.
BUT, however requisite the Force of Imagination may be, to the Perfection of Reason, and the Production of
true Genius,
yet still Reason remains the superior and corrective Power: Therefore every Representation of Poetry or Eloquence, which only apply to the Fancy and Affections, must finally be examined and decided upon, must be
tried, rejected,
or
received,
as the
reasoning Faculty
shall
determine.
AND thus REASON alone is the
Detecter of Falsehood,
and the TEST OF TRUTH.
SECTION IV.
HE who would judge aright of the Proportions of a spacious Dome, must not creep from one Corner to another by the Help of a glimmering Taper, but rather light up a central Branch, which may illuminate the whole at once. By doing something like this in our Remarks on the three different Kinds of Composition, we have enabled the intelligent Reader to see with ease:
"That Wit, Raillery, and Ridicule, in every Shape they can possibly assume, are no other than so many Species of
Poetry
or
Eloquence.
"
PURE
Wit,
when not applied to the Characters of Men, is properly a Species of Poetry. It amuses and delights the Imagination by those sudden Assemblages and pleasing Pictures of Things which it creates: and from every common Occasion can raise such striking Appearances, as throw the most phlegmatic Tempers into a Convulsion of good-humoured Mirth, and
undesigning Laughter.
BUT
Ridicule
or
Raillery,
which is the Subject of our Inquiry, hath a further Scope and Intention. It solely regards the Opinions, Passions, Actions, and Characters of Men: and may properly be denominated
"that Species of Writing which excites Contempt with Laughter."
STILL more particularly we may observe, that as Eloquence in general is but the Application of Poetry to the End of Persuasion, so Ridicule in particular is no more than the Application of that particular Species of Poetry called Wit, to the same End of Persuasion. It tends to excite
Contempt,
in the same Manner as the other Modes of Eloquence raise Love, Pity, Terror, Rage, or Hatred, in the
Heart
of Man.
NOW, that
Contempt
which certain Objects raise in the Mind, is a particular
Mode of Passion.
The Objects of this Passion are apparent
Falsehood, Incongruity, Impropriety,
or
Turpitude
of certain Kinds. But as the Object of every excited Passion must be examined by Reason ere we can determine whether it be proper or improper, real or fictitious; so, every Object that excites Contempt must fall under this general Rule. Thus, before it can be determined whether our Contempt be
just,
Reason alone must
examine
Circumstances, separate Ideas, distinguish Truth from its Appearances, decide upon, restrain, and
correct the Passion.
Thus
Ridicule
is no other than a
Species of Eloquence:
and accordingly we find it mentioned and expresly treated as such, by the best Writers of Antiquity. ARISTOTLE, as in every Subject, leads the Way.
"As Ridicule seems to be of some Use in
pleading,
it was the Opinion of GORGIAS, that you ought to confound your Adversary's
serious Argument
by
Raillery,
and his
Raillery
by
serious Argument.
And he judged well
Arist. Rhet. 1. iii. c. 18.
."
Here he first gives the Sentiments of a
Sage;
and then confirms them by his own Authority.
TO offer all that TULLY hath said upon the Subject of Ridicule, would be to transcribe a considerable Part of his second Book
De Oratore.
After having gone through several Topics of Rhetoric, he comes at length to this of
Ridicule:
and assigns to the elder CESAR the Task of explaining the Force and Application of this Art. In the Course of his Reasonings on this Subject, he affirms First, That Ridicule is a Branch of Eloquence
Est autem plane oratoris movere risum.—Res saepe, quas argumentis dilui non facile est, joco, risuque dissolvit.
. 2
dly,
That certain Kinds of Turpitude or Incongruity are its proper Object
Locus autem et regio quasi ridiculi, turpitudine quadam et deformitate continetur.—Nec insignis improbitas et scelere juncta, nec rursus miseria insignis agitata ridetur.—Quamobrem materies omnis ridiculorum est in istis vitiis,—quae neque odio magno, nec misericordia maxima digna sunt.
. 3
dly,
That the Orator must be temperate in the Application of it
In quo, non modo illud praecipitur, ne quid insulse; sed etiam, si quid perridicule possis: vitandum'est oratori utrumque, ne aut scurrilis jocus sit, aut mimicus.
. 4
thly,
That its Force may consist either in Thought or Expression, but that its Perfection lies in a Union of both
Duo sunt genera sacetiarum, quorum alterum re tractatur, alterum dicto.—Nam quod quibuscunque verbis dixeris, facetum tamen est,
re
continetur: quod, mutatis verbis, salem amittit, in verbis habet leporem omnem.—maxime autem homines delectari, si quando risus conjuncte,
re, verboque
moveatur.
. And lastly, That after all, it is but the lowest Kind of Eloquence
Est, mea sententia, vel tenuissimus ingenii fructus.
De Oratore,
1. ii.
passim.
.
QUINTILIAN builds chiefly on TULLY, when he treats of Ridicule in the sixth Book of his Institutions. He too considers it as a Branch of Eloquence, and gives Rules for its Efficacy and Restraint
Risum judicis movendo, et illos tristes solvit affectus, et animum ab intentione rerum frequenter avertit: et aliquando etiam resicit, et à satietate vel à fatigatione renovat.—Habet enim, ut
Cicero
dicit, sedem in deformitate aliqua et turpitudine.—Rerum autem saepe, ut dixi, maximarum momenta vertit, cum odium iramque frequentissime frangat.—Ea quae dicit vir bonus, omnia salva dignitate ac verecundia dicet: nimium enim risus pretium est, si probitatis impendio constat.
Quint. Inst.
1. vi.
.
NOW, in Consequence of these Proofs, a few Observations will naturally arise with regard to
Ridicule in particular,
similar to those which were made in the last Section, upon
Eloquence in general.
AS first: Ridicule must render every Proposition it supports
apparently true,
ere it can be received and acquiesced it. Thus every Opinion which Ridicule instills, tho' it be the pure Result of certain Images impressed on the Imagination, by which the Passion of Contempt is excited, is always regarded as the Conviction of Reason, and received by the Mind as Truth. And thus by offering apparent Truth, Ridicule gains its End of Persuasion.
AGAIN, it may be observed, that the Consequences of Ridicule with regard to
speculative
Instruction or Inquiry, are of a very different Nature from those which relate to Morals and Action. To the first it must ever be an
Enemy:
But to the latter it may be an Enemy or Friend according as it is fairly or dishonestly applied. It comes in to the Aid of Argument, when its Impressions on the Imagination and Passions are consistent with the real Nature of Things: When it strikes the Fancy and Affections with fictitious Images, it becomes the Instrument of Deceit.
THUS Ridicule may befriend either Truth or Falsehood: and as it is morally or immorally applied, may illustrate the one, or disguise the other. Yet it should seem, that the moral is more natural, than the immoral Application of Ridicule; inasmuch as Truth is more congenial to the Mind than Falsehood, and so, the
real
more easily made
apparent,
than the
sictitious
Images of Things.
RIDICULE, therefore, being of a vague, unsteady Nature, merely relative to the Imaginations and Passions of Mankind, there must be several Orders or Degrees of it, suited to the Fancies and Capacities of those whom the Artist attempts to influence. Among these several Kinds of Ridicule, Justness of Thought and Expression, adorned with striking Figures, is the
highest:
Coarse Language, Buffoonry, false and indecent Images, are the Characters of the
lowest.
For as the Imagination and Passions are then most refined and just, when they bear to the same Point with Reason; so, that Species of Ridicule is most genuine which tends to conduct them thither.
BUT, however Ridicule may
impress
the Idea of apparent Turpitude or Falsehood on the Imagination; yet still Reason remains the superior and corrective Power. Therefore, every Representation of Ridicule, which only applies to the Fancy and Affections, must
finally
be
examined
and
decided
upon, must be
tried, rejected,
or
received,
as the
reasoning Faculty
shall
determine.
AND thus
Ridicule
can never be a
Detector of Falsehood,
or a
Test of Truth.
SECTION. V.
IN further Confirmation of these Truths, the direct Proofs of which may possibly lie somewhat remote from common Apprehension, let us appeal to Experience; to the general Sense and Practice of Mankind. And here we shall find, that Contempt and Ridicule are always founded on
preconceived Opinion,
whatever be the Foundation of it, whether
Reason
or
Imagination, Truth
or
Falsehood.
FOR in Fact, do not we see every different Party and Association of Men despising and deriding each other according to their various Manner of Thought, Speech, and Action? Does not the Courtier deride the Foxhunter, and the Foxhunter the Courtier? What is more ridiculous to a Beau, than a Philosopher; to a Philosopher, than a Beau? Drunkards are the Jest of sober Men, and sober Men of Drunkards. Physicians, Lawyers, Soldiers, Priests, and Freethinkers, are the standing Subjects of Ridicule to one another. Wisdom and Folly, the Virtuous and the Vile, the Learned and Ignorant, the Temperate and Debauched, all give and return the Jest. According to the various Impressions of Fancy and Affection, the Aspects of Things are varied; and consequently the same Object, seen under these different Lights and Attitudes, must in one Mind produce
Approbation,
in another
Contempt.
IF we examine the Conduct of
political
Bodies or
religious
Sects, we shall find it of a similar Nature. Each of these
railly
every other, according to the Prejudices they have imbibed in Favour of their own System. How contemptible and ridiculous are the
European
Forms of Government, in the Eyes of an
Asiatic
A
Venetian
was introduced to the King of
Pegu:
When this Prince was informed by him, that the
Venetians
had
no King,
he
laughed
so excessively, that he lost his Breath, and could not speak for a good while.
Recueil des Voyages, &c.
? And do not we on this Side the
Hellespont
repay them in their own Kind? Are we a whit more united among ourselves in our Ideas of the
Ridiculous,
when applied to Modes of Empire? What is more contemptible to an
Englishman,
than that slavish Submission to arbitrary Will and lawless Power, which prevails almost universally on the Continent? And they are little acquainted with the State of Affairs
abroad,
who know not that, within the Precincts of Tyranny,
English Freedom
is one of the commonest Topics of Raillery and Ridicule: Every Man's judging for himself, is the Subject of the
Frenchman's
Drollery: One Man's judging
for all,
is the Subject of ours. The Case is parallel with regard to religious Tenets, where People are at Liberty to speak their Thoughts. Is there any Species of Invective which the Church of
Rome
hath not exercised upon all who have dissented from its Measures? And have not the Divines of the
reformed
Churches been as arrant
Droles,
in Vindication of their respective Systems? What Ribaldry and coarse Banter hath been thrown (nay rather, what hath
not
been thrown) by the
Freethinkers,
on Religion and
Christianity?
And how basely have some of our Divines prostituted their Pens in former Days, by descending to the same dirty Level? Even the Soureness of Puritanism, nay, the Sullenness of
Quakerism
have sometimes relaxed and yielded themselves up to the Love of
Joking:
And sly Hints, in demure Phrase and sober Countenance, have as plainly spoken their Contempt of those they pitied, as the loud Laughter and Grimace of worldly Men, the Disdain of those they profess to hate.
BUT what need we wonder that a Difference of Opinion in such weighty Affairs as those of Government and Religion should inspire a mutual Contempt, when we see that any considerable Variation of Manners in the most ordinary Circumstances of Life has the same Effect? The Customs of ancient Times have been held so ridiculous by many Moderns, that honest HOMER hath been branded as a Dunce, only because he hath recorded them. What Raillery hath been thrown on the venerable Bard, as well as the Hero he describes, only because he hath told us, that PATROCLUS acted in the Capacity of
Cook
for himself, and his Friend
Achilles
Il.
: And that the Princess
Nausicaa
followed by all her Maids, went down to wash the King's and Queen's Cloaths along with her own
Odyss.
?
Rebecca
and her
Historian
Genesis.
have fallen under the same ignorant Censure, because she went down
to draw Water:
And so have the Daughters of AUGUSTUS, for spinning their Father's Cloaths, when he was Master of the World. Thus the undebauched Simplicity of ancient Times, becomes the Jest of modern Luxury and Folly. From the same Principle, any new Mode of Speech or Action, seen in our own Times, appears ridiculous to those who give Way to the Sallies of
uninformed
Contempt and Laughter. What superior Airs of Mirth and Gayety may be seen in a Club of Citizens, passing Judgment on the
Scotch,
the
Western,
or any other
remote provincial Dialect?
while at
the other End of the Town,
the Stream of
Ridicule
runs as strong on the Manners and Dialect of the
Exchange.
The least unusual Circumstance of Habit, beyond what the Fashion prescribes, is by turns so sensibly ridiculous, that one half of the Expence of Dress seems to consist in accommodating it to the Dictates and Caprice of the current Opinion. And it is a just Complaint of the greatest Tragic Poet of the Age, that this indulged Spirit of Ridicule is a fundamental Obstruction to the Improvement of the
French
Theatre.
"We dare not, says he, hazard any thing new upon the Stage, in the Presence of a People whose constant Practice is,
to ridicule every thing that is not fashionable
Nous craignons de hazarder sur la scene de spectacles nouveaux devant une nation accoutumée à tourner en ridicule tout ce qui n'est pas
d'Usage.
Voltaire,
Disc. sur la trag.
."
NEITHER is the Taste of Mankind less capricious with regard to the Methods of Ridicule
Quaenam tandem in loquendo, aut in scribendo, quasi titillatione risum lacessunt? dictum unum, aut alterum: brevicula narratio: nonnibil repentinum, et fortuitum, et recens, et novitate sua primum.
Vavassor,
De ludicra dictione.
, than the Objects of it. How many
Sayings
and
Repartées
are recorded from Antiquity as the Quintessence of Raillery, which among
us
only raise a Laugh, because they are
insipid?
TULLY himself often attempts in vain to extort a Smile from his modern Reader. Even the
sales Plautini
have in great Measure lost their
Poignancy.
There is a certain
Mode
of Ridicule peculiar to every Age and Country. What a curious Contrast to each other are an
Italian
and a
Dutch
Buffoon? And I suppose the Raillery of a
French
and a
Russian
Drole are as different as the nimble Pranks of a
Monkey,
from the rude Gambols of a
Bear.
Even the same Country hath numerous Subdivisions and
under
Species
of Ridicule. What is high Humour at
Wapping,
is rejected as nauseous in the
City:
What is delicate Raillery in
the City,
grows
coarse
and
intolerable
as you approach
St. James's:
And many a well meant Joke, that passes unheeded in all these various Districts, would set an innocent Country Village in an Uproar of Laughter.
THIS Subject might be much enlarged on: For the Modes and Objects of Ridicule are as indefinite as the imagined Combinations of Things. But from these Examples drawn from the Conduct of particulars, it appears no less than from the general Nature and Faculties of Man, that Ridicule hath no other Source than Imagination, Passion, Prejudice, and preconceived Opinion: And therefore can never be
the Detecter of Falsehood,
or
Test of Truth.
SECTION VI.
THE Cause might be safely rested here. Yet, to throw a still clearer Light on the Subject of our Enquiry, let us now examine what his Lordship hath advanced in Support of his new Method of Investigation. And as the noble Writer hath not thought it expedient to descend often to the argumentative Way; we must make the most of what we find in him that looks like a Reason.
HE tells his Friend, that
"nothing is ridiculous except what is deformed; nor is any thing Proof against Raillery, except what is handsome and just:—one may defy the World to turn real Bravery and Generosity into Ridicule. A Man must be soundly ridiculous, who, with all the Wit imaginable, would go about to ridicule Wisdom, or laugh at Honesty or good Manners
Vol. i. p. 128, 129.
."
HERE we have a Mixture of equivocal Language and pompous Declamation. If he means to assert, that
"nothing is ridiculous, except what is
apparently
deformed,"
the Proposition is true, but foreign to the Purpose: Because, through the Error of Imagination, Things
apparently deformed
may be
really beautiful.
If he means to assert, that
"nothing can be made to appear ridiculous, but what is
really
deformed,"
I should be glad to know where the noble Author had conversed: In the
Platonic Republic,
it may be so: But, in our
Gothic
Systems, Matters go quite otherwise: So far as common Observation reaches, it is easiest of all Things to make that
appear
ridiculous, which is not
really
deformed: And how should it be otherwise, while the human Imagination is liable to be imposed on, and capable of receiving
fictitious
for
real
Representations?
THE noble Author tells us next, that
"nothing is Proof against Raillery, except what is handsome and just."
—Perhaps, nor
that
neither. Though it be true, that nothing of the opposite Kind is proof against Raillery; yet sure it is a strange Mistake to imagine, that what is really handsome and just is always Proof against it. For, by sictitious Images impressed on the Fancy, what is
really
handsome and just, is often rendered
apparently
false and deformed; and thus becomes
actually
contemptible and ridiculous.
BUT
"one may defy the World to turn real Bravery and Generosity into Ridicule."
Safely, my Lord; while they retain their
native Appearance,
and Beauty of Proportion. But alas, how easy is it to
disguise
them! It is but concealing, varying, or adding a Circumstance that may strike the Fancy, and they at once assume new Shapes, new Names, and Natures. Thus the
Virtues
which, seen in a direct Light, attract our Admiration by their
Beauty;
when beheld through the oblique Mediums of Ridicule start up in the Forms of
Ideots, Hags,
and
Monsters.
BUT the noble Writer enforces these general Appeals to Fact, by one extraordinary Instance. He tells us,
"The divinest Man who had ever appeared in the Heathen World, was in the Height of witty Times, and by the wittiest of all Poets, most abominably ridiculed, in a whole Comedy writ and acted on Purpose: But so far was this from sinking his Reputation, or suppressing his Philosophy, that they each increased the more for it
Vol. i. p. 31.
."
It must be owned, this is an extraordinary Assertion, unless he means to affirm, that the Reputation and Philosophy of SOCRATES arose from his Blood, as
"the
Christian
Sects sprung from the Blood of Martyrs
Vol. i.
."
For it appears from all the Records of Antiquity, that the Wit of ARISTOPHANES was the most formidable Enemy that ever attacked the divine Philosopher: This whetted the Rage of a
misled
Multitude, and dragged to Death that Virtue which hath ever since been the Admiration of Mankind. In this Opinion, we have the Concurrence of the first Writer of the present Age
Ded. to the
Div. Leg. of Moses,
p. 20.
: And the Confession of another, who, although of a Turn conceited and fantastical enough, is yet of unquestioned Credit for his Ingenuity and Learning. This Writer, speaking of the wild Wit of an ARISTOPHANES, tells us, that
"the Comedy inscribed
The Clouds,
is an execrable Attempt to expose one of the wisest and best of Men to the Fury and Contempt of a
lewd Multitude,
in which it had but
too much Success
Letters on Mythology,
p. 262.
."
'TIS true, PALMERIUS, a learned
French
Critic of the last Age, had, from the Number of Years between the acting
The Clouds
of ARISTOPHANES, and the Death of SOCRATES, pretended that AELIAN was mistaken in assigning this Play as one of the principal Causes of his Destruction. P. BRUMOY, who has wrote so excellently of the
Greek Theatre,
after having examined the Affair with the utmost Candour, concludes thus:
"His Account (AELIAN's) seems only defective, in that he hath not remarked the long interval that passed between the Representation of
The Clouds,
and the Condemnation of SOCRATES. But although the Comedy did not give the finishing Stroke to SOCRATES; yet it might have indisposed the Minds of the People, since these
comic Accusations
became
very serious ones,
which at length destroyed the wisest of the
Greeks
Son recit ne semble defectueux que pour n'avoir pas marqué le long intervalle qui se passa entre la representation des Nuees, et la condemnation de Socrate. Concluons que, bien que sa comedie n'ait pas porté le dernier coup à Socrate, elle a pu indisposer les esprits, puisque les accusations comiques devinrent des accusations tres serieuses, qui perdirent ensin le plus sage des Grees.
Tom. v. p. 360.
."
But since the noble Author seems to have adopted the other Opinion, and, as I am told, some shallow Mimics of modern Platonism have lately stollen PALMERIUS's Criticism, and revived this stale Pretence, of the Number of Years between the Representation of
The Clouds,
and the Death of SOCRATES; it may be necessary to transcribe the following Passage from PLATO's
Apology,
which puts the Matter beyond all Doubt:
"But it is just, O
Athenians,
that I should first reply to the false Charge of my FIRST ACCUSERS. Because several laid their groundless Accusations against me, MANY YEARS AGO:
whom
I DREAD MORE
than the Adherents of
ANYTUS; though these too be very powerful in Persuasion: But those are still
more powerful,
who have possessed and sway'd you FROM YOUR VERY INFANCY, in laying false Accusations against me. Many, indeed, have been these my Accusers, and LONG HAVE THEY CONTINUED thus to accuse me, and
persuaded
and
misled
you at that EARLY AGE, when you were MOST EASY OF BELIEF: While I, in the mean Time, was without one Defender. And what is worst of all, I know not so much as their very Names,
except only that of
THE COMEDIAN.—What then do my Accusers say?—SOCRATES is criminal, in that he enquires too curiously concerning what is under the Earth, and in the Heavens, and in that he can make the worse appear the better Reason; and that he teaches these Things to others. Such then is the Accusation:
For such Things you saw in
ARISTOPHANES's COMEDY, where a fictitious SOCRATES
is carried about,
affirming, that he takes Journeys through the Air, and talking much more idle Stuff of the same Nature
Plat.
Apel. Sec.
."
HERE we see, the Philosopher refers their Accusation to its
original Cause:
And this he positively affirms, was no other than the
old Impressions
made against him on the Minds of the
Athenians, by the Comedy of
THE CLOUDS
As so much stir hath been made about the Case of
Socrates
with regard to Ridicule, it may not be amiss to shew what
his
Opinion of it was in general, when considered as a
Test of Truth.
In the fifth Book of
Plato's
Republic,
Socrates
proposes that Women should engage in all the public Affairs of Life, along with Men. This, to
Glauco,
appears
ridiculous
in some of its Circumstances.
Socrates
replies,
"That may be: But let us go to
the Merits
of the Question,
setting aside all Raillery,
advising the Railleurs
to be serious,
and putting them in Mind, that the very Practice now approved in
Greece
(of Men appearing naked) was, not long ago, treated there with the highest Ridicule: as it is to this Day among many Barbarians."—
The following Part of this Passage I would recommend to the modern Patronizers of the
Way of Ridicule.
.
SO much for the Silencing, which is the only Conviction, of Obstinacy and Ignorance. But in Reality, it is a Matter of small Consequence, in the present Question, Whether the Ridicule of the comic Poet was in Fact destructive to the divine Philosopher or not. But as it demonstrably was, it is therefore a Case in Point. However, suppose it was not; what is the Consequence? Why, only this: That dishonest Ridicule failed of its desired Success,
in one Instance.
And how does this affect the Question, so long as Ten thousand other Instances may be alledged to the contrary, which no Man, that is not void of common Sense or common Honesty, can possibly deny?
FROM the Appeals to Fact, already made
See above § 5.
, may be drawn innumerable Instances of this Nature. There we see Truth, Wisdom, Virtue, Liberty, successfully disguised and derided; by this very means the Cause of Falsehood, Folly, Vice, Tyranny maintained: If to these it were necessary to add more; we cannot perhaps in History find a more flagrant Proof of the Power of Ridicule against
Virtue herself,
than in that Heap of
execrable Comedies,
which have been the Bane and Reproach of this Kingdom thro' a Series of ninety Years. During this Period, the Generality of our comic Poets have been the unwearied
Ministers of Vice:
And have done her Work with so thorough an Industry, that it would be hard to find one Virtue, which they have not
sacrificed
at her Shrine. As Effects once established are not easily removed, so not only this, but the succeeding Generation will probably retain the Impressions made in the two preceding ones; when Innocence was the Sport of abandoned Villany; and the
successful Adulterer decked out
with all the
Poet's Art,
at the Expence of the
ridiculed
and
injured Husband:
When moral Virtue and Religion were made the Jest of the
licentious;
and female
Modesty
was banished, to make Way for shameless
Effrontery:
The Fair sat panting at a
Courtier's
Play,
And not a Mask went unimprov'd away:
The
modest
Fan was lifted up no more,
And Virgins
smil'd
at what they
blush'd
before
Essay on Criticism.
.
SECTION VII.
HERE then we have accumulated Proofs of the fatal Influences of Ridicule, when let loose from the Restraints of Reason.
YET still his Lordship insists, that
"Truth, 'tis supposed, may bear all Lights
Vol. i. p. 61.
."
To which it is replied, that
"Truth will indeed bear every Light,
but a false one.
"
He adds, that
"one of those principal Lights or natural Mediums by which Things are to be viewed, in order to a thorow Recognition, is Ridicule itself
Vol. i. p. 61.
."
This is full as wise a Method to manifest the Rectitude of Truth, as it would be to shew the Rectitude of a ruling Staff, to emerge one part of it in clear Water. The Staff indeed would still continue strait, but the two
Mediums,
in which it lies, though both
natural
ones, would concur to make it appear crooked. Just so it is with Truth, when half shewn by the
Medium of Reason,
and the other half, by the
Medium of Ridicule.
BUT the noble Writer asks us,
"How can any one of the least Justness of Thought endure a Ridicule wrong placed
Ibid. p. 11.
?"
—I answer, by being
misled
or
mistaken;
and then Men are ready to
bear
any thing. Shew me him whose Imagination never received or retained a false Impression, and I shall readily allow he can never
endure a Ridicule wrong placed.
But of this
infallible
Race I know none, except the Inhabitants of
Utopia.
'Tis true, he candidly acknowledges, that
"the
Vulgar
may swallow any
sordid Jest,
any
mere Drollery
and
Bussoonry
Ibid.
."
Indeed! How then can he
desy the World to turn real Bravery or Generosity into Ridicule, or laugh successfully at Honesty or Good-manners?
And where was the Wonder or Improbability, that the Wit of ARISTOPHANES should incite a
lewd Multitude
to destroy the
divine Philosopher
L'Impudence qu'il avoit de tourner en ridicule la religion, devoit être reprimée: car une refutation serieuse ne fait pas à beaucoup près tant de mal, que les railleries d'un homme d'esprit. Les
jeunes gens
se laissent gater par ces sortes de moqueurs plus que l'on ne scauroit dire.
Bayle, art. BION.
?.
BUT then he tells us,
"It must be a siner and truer Wit that takes with the men of
Sense
and
Breeding
Vol. i. p. 11.
."
This Sentence it must be owned is artful enough: Because it obliges one to make a Separation that may look like
ill-natured,
before one can expose its Weakness. A truer Wit indeed may be necessary to take with the
Men of Sense;
but these, I apprehend, may sometimes be distinguished from the
Men of Breeding:
For it is certain, that in most Countries the Vulgar are a much more
considerable
Body, than is generally imagined. Yet, although neither
Reason
nor the
Passions
gain any Advantages from
high Life,
it must be owned, the Imagination acquires a certain
Delicacy,
which the
low Vulgar
are generally Strangers to. The coarse Pranks of a
merry Andrew
that engage the Attention of a
Country Fair,
would make but a poor Figure at
St. James's.
But still it is only in the
Modes,
not the Objects of Ridicule, with regard to which the
Courtier
differs from the
Clown.
The
Peasant
and his
Lord
are equally susceptible of false Impressions; equally liable to have Falsehood obtruded on them for Truth, Folly for Wisdom, Vice for Virtue: The Methods only of Ridicule, the Engines of Deceit must vary; must be accommodated to the different Views of Things and Circumstances of Life, among which they have respectively been conversant. Thus it must indeed be a
finer,
but by no means a
truer
Kind of Wit, that takes with the
Men of Breeding.
THE noble Writer proceeds to ask,
"What Rule or Measure is there in the World, except in the considering the real Temper of Things, to find which are truly serious, and which ridiculous? And how can this be done, unless by applying the Ridicule, to see whether it will bear
Vol. i. p. 12.
?"
—Yes sure, there is another Rule: The Rule of Reason: Which alone can distinguish Appearances from Realities, and fix the true Nature of Things: From whose Determinations alone, we ever can distinguish true from pretended Gravity, just from groundless Raillery. But the Way of Investigation here proposed by his Lordship, inverts the very Order and Constitution of Things: By this means Appearances take the Place of Realities; Imagination usurps the Sovereignty which belongs to Reason; and RIDICULE IS MADE THE TEST OF WHAT IS RATIONAL, INSTEAD OF REASON BEING MADE THE TEST OF WHAT IS RIDICULOUS.
YET still the noble Author suspects ill Consequences: That Subjects
"may be very grave and weighty
in our Imagination,
but very ridiculous and impertinent in their own Nature
Ibid p. 11.
."
True: and on the other hand, Things may appear ridiculous and impertinent
in our Imagination,
which are very grave and weighty in their own Nature. What then is the Consequence in either Case? Why, only this: That
Imagination,
and therefore
Ridicule
which depends upon it, can never be a
Test
of Truth.
BUT his Lordship insists, that
"Gravity is of the very Essence of Imposture
Vol. i. p. 11.
."
Yet this will do little for his Purpose, unless he can prove too, that
"Imposture is of the Essence of Gravity."
And if so, what will become of the
Enquiry concerning Virtue?
Gravity, it is true, is commonly an Attendant of Imposture: And so is Laughter, generally speaking, of Folly. With as much Reason therefore as the noble Writer infers from hence, that Gravity is Imposture, we may infer that Laughter is Folly in Disguise. In Truth, the Inference is groundless, in both Cases. Though every Knave should affect Gravity, yet every grave Man is not a Knave: Though every Fool will be Laughing, yet every Man that laughs is not a Fool: We may be serious and honest, as well as merry and wise. Mirth and Gravity are both harmless Things, provided they be properly applied: And we have seen that it is the Province of Reason alone, to determine when they are so.
BUT after all, the Proposition, that
Gravity is of the Essence of Imposture,
is false: It is only an occasional, though, indeed, a pretty close, attendant, since this other Maxim was taken for granted, that
Reason was the Test of Truth.
Let once his Lordship's be generally embraced, that
Ridicule
is so, and we should soon see
Buffoonry
as close an Attendant on Imposture as now
Gravity.
The Tryal has been made; and successfully enough too, by him who has kept the Multitude in Opinion for twenty Years together; and by this Time, perhaps, himself, that Learning and Religion are better taught in his Conventicle, than in all the Universities and Churches of
Christendom
put together. And sure if any thing be the
Essence
of his
Imposture,
it is
Buffoonry.
AND here let us not forget to observe, that the noble Writer often (as in the Passage last cited) confounds
Mirth, Urbanity,
or
Good-humour,
with
Raillery
or
Ridicule:
Than which, no two Things in Nature are more diametrically opposite. The first, as it ariseth solely from
sudden
and
pleasing Resemblances
impressed on the Imagination, is justly regarded by all, as the best
Mediator
in every Debate. The last, as it ariseth solely from
Contempt,
is therefore no less justly regarded by most, as an
Embroiler
and
Incendiary.
He sets out with a formal Profession of proving the Efficacy of Humour and Ridicule in the Investigation of Truth: Yet, by shifting and mixing his Terms, he generally slides insensibly into mere Encomiums on
Good-breeding, Chearfulness, Urbanity,
and
free Enquiry;
and then, from these Premises, often draws Consequences in Favour of
Ridicule,
as if it were an
equivalent Term.
This indeed keeps something like an Argument on Foot, and misleads the superficial Reader.
BUT the noble Author triumphs in another Observation: When speaking of
modern Zealots,
he tells us, that
"whatever they think grave and solemn, they suppose must never be treated out of a grave and solemn Way. Though what another thinks so, they can be contented to treat otherwise: And are forward to try the Edge of Ridicule against any Opinions besides their own
Vol. i. p. 60.
."
Now, if this be so; how is
Gravity of the Essence of Imposture,
as he had before affirmed? But whatever becomes of that Proposition, the Remark is just. And whomsoever he means to Compliment with the Name of
Zealots,
whether in Religion or Freethinking, I shall not compliment as Exceptions to the Truth of it. There is scarce a Topic of Religion, either for its Dishonour or Support, that hath not been exposed to the illiberal Jokes of some Bungler in Controversy. And a much coarser Advocate in the Cause of Ridicule
Supposed to be Mr. Collins.
, hath wrote an elaborate and most tedious Dissertation, to prove that the Way of Raillery hath been successfully applied by every Sect of Religionists and Infidels, to the Destruction of each other's Tenets, and the Establishment of their own. How he gains his Conclusion, that an Engine which tends to fix Mankind in their preconceived Opinions, and establish so many Species of Error, is of Importance and Efficacy in the Search of Truth, may not be so easy to determine. In the mean time, in Reply to his whole Treatise, as well as to the last mentioned Remark of our noble Author, it may be sufficient to observe, that Mankind often retain their own, and oppose others' Opinions, from an imperfect View of the Nature of Things: Their peculiar Tenets in Religion, as in other Subjects, are often founded in Imagination only: Their Objections to those of others are often as groundless and fanciful. How natural then is it for them to communicate their Opinions on that Foundation on which they received them? How natural, that they should throw the Colours of Imagination on the Tenets they oppose? That they should obtrude the like fictitious Images on others, which themselves have embraced as Truth? That they should hold forth Appearances for Realities; employ Eloquence instead of Logick; and endeavour to
persuade
whom they should, but cannot,
convince?
IT seems therefore that his Lordship's Observation (which contains the Quintessence of his Associate's Work, and which probably was the
Leaven
that
leavened
the whole
Lump
of Malice and Dulness) instead of being favourable to Ridicule as a Test of Truth, can only tend to disgrace it. For since every religious and unbelieving Sect hath
alike successfully
employed it in supporting their respective Tenets, and in rendering those of their Adversaries contemptible; it follows, inasmuch as Doctrines which are essentially repugnant cannot all be true, that RIDICULE IS ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL ENGINES, BY WHICH ERROR CAN BE MAINTAINED AND ESTABLISHED.
SECTION VIII.
WE shall only mention one more of the noble Writer's Arguments in Favour of his new
Test:
But it is, indeed, the very
Key-Stone
of this visionary Arch, which he hath with such fantastic Labour thrown over the Depths of Error, in order to invite Mankind over it as a short and secure Passage to the Abode of Truth and Wisdom.
HE tells us, that a new Species of Enthusiasts
(French Prophets)
having lately risen up among us,
"We have delivered them over to the cruellest Contempt in the World. I am told for certain, that they are at this very Time the Subject of a choice Droll or Puppet-show at Bart'lmy-Fair.—And while Bart'lmy-Fair is in Possession of this Privilege, I I dare stand Security to our national Church, that no Sect of Enthusiasts, no new Venders of Prophecy or Miracles, shall ever get the Start, or put her to the Trouble of trying her Strength with them, in any Case
Vol. i. p. 27, 28.
."
SO far, for Peace sake, we venture to agree with the noble Writer: But now comes a finishing Stroke indeed.
FOR he proceeds to congratulate the present Age, that in the Beginnings of the Reformation, when Popery had got Possession,
Smithfield
was used in a more
tragical Way.
And that
"had not the Priests, as is usual, preferred the Love of Blood to all other Passions, they might in a
merrier Way,
perhaps, have
evaded the greatest Force of our reforming Spirit
Vol. i. p. 28.
."
AND now, for Form's sake, let us suppose the noble Author to be what he assumes, a Friend to Religion and Reformation: Under this Character, he recommends
Ridicule
to us, as of sovereign Use to investigate Truth, try Honesty, and unmask formal Hypocrisy and Error. To prove this Use, he tells us, what we should least have expected, that if, instead of the tragical Way of
Smithfield,
the
Romish
Priests had preferred the comic Drollery of Bart'lmy-Fair, they had perhaps gained their Point, and
evaded the greatest Force of our reforming Spirit.
Here the noble Writer forgets his Part, which is that of a
Believer
and a
Protestant.
But, in his Scarcity of Proofs for the
Use
of Ridicule, he has put the Change upon us, and perhaps upon himself, and offered at one to shew its
Force:
Which, without doubt, must wonderfully recommend it to the Favour of all sober Men. Here then lies the Dilemma: Let his Followers then get him off as they can. If their Master be a Believer, he has reasoned ill; if a Freethinker, he has managed worse. Had he been a little more knowing in the Times he speaks of, he might have found an Instance more pertinent to his Argument, and more conformable to his Character; an Instance which shews, not what
Ridicule
might be supposed capable of doing, but what it actually effected. And this not to stop
Reformation,
but to discredit
Popery.
Bishop BURNET tells us, that in the Year 1542,
"Plays and Interludes were a great Abuse: In them, Mock-Representations were made, both of the Clergy and of the Pageantry of their Worship. The Clergy complained much of these as an Introduction to Atheism, when Things sacred were thus laughed at: And said, they that begun to laugh at Abuses, would not cease till they had
represented
all the Mysteries of Religion as
ridiculous:
The graver Sort of Reformers did not approve of it: But political Men encouraged it; and thought nothing could more
effectually pull down
the Abuses that yet remained, than the exposing them to the
Scorn
of the Nation
History of the Reformation,
A. D. 1542.
."
THIS curious Piece of History is remarkable; and tends no less to support our general Argument, than to recommend, what the noble Writer is pleased to snear at, the Sobriety
of our reforming Spirit. Political
men, says the Historian, whose Business, and therefore whose aim, was to
persuade,
encouraged the Way of Ridicule: But the
graver Sort of Reformers,
whose nobler Ministry, and consequently whose purpose, was to
convince,
did not
approve
of it.
BUT his Lordship is so fond of his Reflection, that he pushes it still further.
"I never heard (says he) that the ancient Heathens were so well advised in their
ill Purpose
of suppressing the
Christian
Religion in its first Rise, as to make use at any Time of this Bart'lmy-Fair Method. But this I am persuaded of, that, had
the Truth of the Gospel
been any way
surmountable,
they would have bid much fairer for the silencing it, if they had chosen to bring our primitive Founders upon the Stage in a pleasanter Way, than that of Bear-Skins and Pitch-Barrels
Vol. i. p. 29.
."
And as to the
Jews,
he says, that
"with all their Malice and Inveteracy to our Saviour and his Apostles after him, had they but taken the Fancy to act such Puppet-Shows in his
Contempt,
as at this Hour the Papists are acting in his Honour; I am apt to think they might possibly have done our Religion more harm, than by all their other Ways of Severity
Ibid.
."
WHAT a Favourite is that
facetious Droll of Wood and Wire, the Bart'lmy Fair Hero,
with these modern Advocates for Mirth and Raillery! And indeed, not without cause, for of him they seem to have learnt their very wittiest Practices. Who taught them to turn their Backs upon their Betters; to disturb the most serious Scenes with an unsavoury Joke; and make a Jest of the Devil? Indeed they have so well taken off his Manners, that one Description will serve them both. And whether you suppose the fine one which follows to be meant of the
original,
or one of the
Copies
you are equally sure you have a good Likeness.
Sed praeter reliquos incedit
Homuncio, rauca
Voce strepens;—Pygmaeum
territat agmen
Major, et immanem
miratur turba gigantem.
Hic magna fretus mole, imparibusque lacertis
Confisus, gracili
jactat convitia vulgo,
Et crebro solvit
(lepidum caput!)
ora
cachinno.
Quanquam res agitur solenni
scria
pompa,
Spernit
sollicitum intractabilis ille tumultum,
Et
risu
importunus adest, atque
omnia turbat
Musae Angl.
MACH. GEST. by Mr.
Addison.
.
BUT to return to our Argument. Be you well assured of this, kind Reader, that whatever Impressions are made upon a Populace in the Way of
Scenery
and
dramatic
Representation, are no more than so many Kinds of
silent Eloquence
and
Persuasion:
That Facts which ought to be proved, are always
taken for granted,
and Things and Persons often rendered
apparently
absurd, which
really
are not so. That
the Vulgar
(both
high
and
low
)
are apt to swallow any sordid Jest or Buffoonry,
so it be but accommodated to their
preconceived Opinions:
That this Way of Ridicule, like every other, as it is fairly or dishonestly applied, will sweep away Truth or Falsehood without Distinction: That it will confound
French Prophets
with
English Reformers,
and on the same false Foundation establish the Truths of Protestantism, or the Absurdities of Popery. That as
Virtue
herself cannot bear up against a Torrent of Ridicule, so neither can
Religion:
That therefore
Christianity
had indeed more to fear from the
contemptuous Misrepresentations,
than the
bitterest Rage
of its Enemies: That
Christianity
did in Fact endure this more than firey Trial: That its divine Founder was
derided
Prophesy unto us, who it was that smote thee!
as well as
crucified:
That they who in succeeding Times suffered for the Faith, endured
cruel Mockings
no less than
Scourgings, Bonds,
and
Imprisonment:
That many a brave Martyr offered up his Prayers to Heaven, that he might be released by Death from the
Contempt
of his Enemies: And after being
baited
in the
Bear-Skin,
found a
Refuge
in the
Faggot,
or the
Pitch-Barrel.
SECTION IX.
HOWEVER, the noble Writer's Modesty must not be forgotten. For while he might have arrogated to himself the Glory of this wondrous Discovery, he hath informed us of an
ancient Sage,
whose Idea of Ridicule coincided with his own.
"'Twas the Saying of an ancient Sage, that Humour was the only Test of Gravity
Vol. i. p. 74.
."
THE Reader will probably be surprized to find that the Passage here referred to by the noble Writer, is no other than what hath been already quoted from ARISTOTLE
See above, p. 43.
as a Direction to the Conduct of an Orator. 'Tis likewise remarkable, that his Lordship, in quoting the original Passage in his
Margin,
has, by the
prudent
Omission of an emphatical Expression, converted it from a particular Rule of Rhetoric into a general Maxim of Philosophy
The Words,
—
Adversariorum
—are omitted.
. But 'tis of all most remarkable, that in his pretended Translation, he hath entirely perverted the Sense of the Author, whose Authority he attempts to build upon.
"As Ridicule (says the great Philosopher) seems to be of some Use in Pleading; it was the Opinion of GORGIAS, that you ought to confound your Adversary's serious Argument by Raillery, and his Raillery by serious Argument."
This is almost a literal Translation of the Passage. But how the noble Author could so far impose upon himself or others, as to strip it of its native Dress, and disguise it under the fantastical Appearance of a Maxim,
"that Humour is the only Test of Gravity, and Gravity of Humour,"
—this is not so easy to account for.
HOWEVER this came to pass, 'tis certain, that the Observation, as it lies in ARISTOTLE, is a just and a fine one: as it lies in the noble Writer's maimed Translation, it is
false,
if not
unmeaning.
THAT an Orator should
confound his Adversary's Raillery by serious Argument,
is rational and just. By this means he tears off the false Disguises of Eloquence, and distinguisheth real from apparent Truth. That he should
confound his Adversary's serious Argument by Raillery,
is, if not a just, yet a legal Practice. The Aim and End of the Advocate or Orator is Persuasion only; to Truth or Falsehood as it happens. If he hath Truth on his Side, it is likely what he will have then to do, will be
to confound his
Adversary's Raillery by serious Argument.
If Truth be against him, he will be forced to change Weapons with his Adversary,
whose serious Argument he must try to confound by Raillery.
This is all the Mystery there is in the Matter? By which we see, that whenever in this case Ridicule is opposed to Reasoning, it is so far from being the
Test
or Support, that it is the
Destruction
of
Truth.
And the judicious QUINTILIAN fairly confesses it, where he assigns the Cause why Ridicule is of such mighty Force in Oratory—
"Quia animum ab intentione rerum frequenter avertit"
—
Because it draws off the Mind from attending to the real Nature of Things.
Thus you see the Propriety and Beauty of the
Saying of our ancient Sage,
when fairly represented.
BUT as the noble Writer hath translated the Passage, it is a Curiosity indeed.
"Humour is the only Test of Gravity, and Gravity of Humour."
He applies it not to Eloquence, but Philosophy; not to Persuasion, but Conviction. And so, by the strangest Conversion in Nature, makes the Trier, and the Thing tried, each in their turns, become Agent and Patient to one another. But what Artist ever attempted to
try
the Justness of his
Square
or
Level,
by the Work which he has formed by the Assistance of those Instruments? Or was ever the Gold which hath been put to the Test, reciprocally applied to
try
the Touch-Stone? If therefore
Gravity,
or Reasoning, be the Test of
Humour;
Humour never can be the Test of Gravity: As on the other hand, if Humour be the Test of Gravity, then Gravity can never be the Test of Humour.
SINCE therefore this
see-saw
Kind of Proof returns into itself, and consequently ends in an Absurdity; 'tis plain, that one half of the noble Writer's Proposition must effectually destroy the other: Let us see then, which Moiety deserves to be supported. His own Comment on the Passage will help us to determine. Which however, he seems desirous his Reader should receive as a Part of the
Saying of his ancient Sage:
But whoever will turn to the Passage, as it lies in ARISTOTLE, will find that GORGIAS is entirely innocent of the whole Affair.
"GRAVITY, says his Lordship, is the Test of
Humour:
Because a Jest that will not bear a serious Examination, is certainly false Wit."
True: here we have a rational Test established. Next he inverts the Proposition, sets it with its Head downwards, like a Traytor's Scutcheon, and now, says he, behold
"Humour is the Test of Gravity."
To prove this, Reason requires he should have added,
"Because an Argument, which can be successfully ridiculed, is certainly false Logic."
But this was too hardy a Proposition to be directly advanced: He therefore contents himself with hinting, that
"a Subject which will not bear Raillery
is suspicious!
"
Now we know, that
Suspicion
is often groundless: That what is suspected to be false, may yet be true. So that the noble Writer again suffers this new Test to slip through his Fingers, even while he is holding it up to your Admiration. But if any thing further be necessary to clear up this Point, it may be observed in short, that Gravity or Argument is the Test of Humour, because Reason marks the real Differences of Things: That Humour can never be the Test of Gravity, because Imagination can only suggest their apparent Analogies.
THUS the Sentiment of GORGIAS is grosly mistaken or designedly misrepresented by the noble Writer: as it lies in ARISTOTLE, it is rational and consistent; as it is taken up by his Lordship, it is chimerical and groundless.
IT might have been difficult to assign a Reason, why the noble Writer should have attempted to establish this
two-fold
Method of Proof, had not he explained his Intention in another Place. He there
Vol. iii. Misc. v. c. 2. § 65, &c.
wisely recommends the old
scholastic Manner
to the
Clergy,
as being most suitable to their Abilities and Character: The
Way of Ridicule
he appropriates to the Men of Taste and Breeding; declaring it ought to be kept sacred from the impure Touch of an Ecclesiastic. For as Clubs and
Cudgels
have long been appropriated to Porters and Footmen, while every Gentleman is ambitious to understand a
Sword;
so the clumsy Way of
Argumentation
is only fit for Priests and Pedants, but
pointed
Wit is the Weapon for the Man of Fashion: This decides a Quarrel
handsomely.
The
pretty Fellow
is at your Vitals in a Moment; while the Pedant keeps labouring at it for an Hour together, and neither gets nor gives so much as a broken Bone.
BUT still higher is the noble Writer's Idea of Wit and Ridicule: While he applies it not only to
Conquest,
but
Investigation:
And we must own, it was an Attempt worthy of his Genius, to establish this new and
expeditious
Method of Search and Conviction. In which, by the sole Application of so cheap and
portable an Instrument
as that of
Raillery,
a Gentleman might obtain the certain Knowledge of the
true Proportion
of Things, without the tedious and vulgar Methods of
Mensuration.
In the mean Time, we, whom the noble Author hath so often condescended to distinguish by the honourable Title of Formalists and Pedants, finding ourselves incapable of this
sublime
Way of Proof, must be content to drudge on in the old and beaten Track of
Reasoning.
And after all, 'tis probable this new Attempt will succeed no better than the curious Conceit of the
learned Taylor
in
Laputa:
Who being employed in making a
Suit
for the facetious GULLIVER; disdained the
vulgar Measures
of his Profession, and took that Gentleman's
Altitude
by the Help of a
Quadrant.
This, it must be acknowledged, was a Theory no less sublime than our noble Author's: Yet it failed miserably when applied to Practice: For the sagacious Traveller informs us, that notwithstanding the Acuteness and Penetration of the Artist, his cloaths were
wretchedly ill made.
SECTION X.
WE have now obviated every thing material, that the noble Writer hath advanced in Support of his new System. But as one of his most zealous Followers hath undertaken
in Form
to explain and defend his Notions on this Subject
See a Note on the
Pleasures of Imagination,
a Poem. Book iii.
, it may be proper to examine how far this Gentleman's Argument is consistent with Truth.
HE tells us, that
"to ask whether Ridicule be a Test of Truth, is in other Words to ask, whether that which is ridiculous can be morally true, can be just and becoming; or whether that which is just and becoming, can be ridiculous."
HERE, as the Foundation of all, we see the same Kind of Ambiguity lurking, as was observed in the noble Writer, in the Passage already remarked on
See above, p. 55.
. For if by
"that which is ridiculous,"
he means that which is
really
ridiculous, it is allowed this can never be morally true: But this is so far from proving Ridicule to be a Test of Truth, that it implies the contrary: It implies some further Power, which may be able to distinguish what is
really
ridiculous, from what is only
apparently
so. On the contrary, if by
"that which is ridiculous,"
he means that which is
apparently
ridiculous, it may be affirmed, this may be morally true: Because Imagination and Passion often take up with Fictions instead of Realities, and can never of themselves distinguish them from each other. He tells us his Question
"does not deserve a serious Answer."
At least it wanted an Explanation.
THE Gentleman proceeds:
"For it is most evident, that as in a metaphysical Proposition offered to the Understanding for its Assent,
the Faculty of Reason
examines the Terms of the Proposition, and finding one Idea which was supposed equal to another, to be in Fact unequal, of Consequence rejects the Proposition as a Falsehood: So in Objects offered to the Mind for its Esteem or Applause, the
Faculty of Ridicule
feeling an Incongruity in the Claim, urges the Mind to reject it with Laughter and Contempt."
HERE the
Faculty of Reason
is excluded from the Examination of moral Truths, and a
new
Faculty, never before heard of,
the Faculty of Ridicule,
is substituted in its Place. Now, when a
Stranger
is introduced into good Company, and sure these can be no better than the
Public,
it is usual not only to tell his Name, but
what he is,
and what his
Character:
This, the Gentleman hath not condescended to do: 'Tis true, in a preceding Page he tells us, that
"the Sensation of Ridicule is not a bare Perception of the Agreement or Disagreement of Ideas; but a
Passion or Emotion of the Mind, consequential to that Perception.
"
In another Place he expresly calls it
"a gay Contempt."
Now, if the
Faculty of Ridicule
be the same as the
Sensation of Ridicule,
or
a gay Contempt,
then by substituting the plain old Term of
Contempt,
instead of the
Faculty of Ridicule,
we shall clearly see what the above cited Passage contains.
"As in a metaphysical Proposition, the
Faculty of Reason
examines the Terms, and rejects the Falsehood; so in Objects offered to the Mind for its Esteem and Applause,
the Passion of Contempt
feeling an Incongruity in the Claim, urges the Mind to reject it
with Laughter and
CONTEMPT!"
—Why was not honest
Reason
admitted of the Council, and set on the
Seat of Judgment,
which of right belongs to her? The Affair would then have stood thus:
"As in a metaphysical Proposition, the Faculty of Reason examines the Terms, and rejects the Falsehood; so in Objects offered to the Mind for its Esteem or Applause,
the same Faculty of Reason
finding an Incongruity in the Claim, urges the Mind to reject it with
Contempt
and
Laughter.
"
This would have been Sense and Argument; but then it had not been
Characteristical.
WE shall now clearly discover the Distinction that is to be made on the following Passage:
"And thus a double Advantage is gained: For we both
detect
the moral Falsehood
sooner
than in the Way of speculative Enquiry, and impress the Minds of Men with a stronger Sense of the Vanity and Error of its Authors
Ibid. p. 106.
."
—Here 'tis evident, that the Design
"of
detecting
the moral Falsehood
sooner
than in the Way of speculative Enquiry"
is an absurd Attempt: But that
"to impress the Minds of Men with a stronger Sense of the Vanity and Error of its Authors,"
when Reason hath made the proper Search, is both a practicable and a rational Intention.
"BUT it is said, continues he, that the Practice is dangerous, and may be inconsistent with the Regard we owe to Objects of real Dignity and Excellence
Ibid. p. 106.
."
Yet this is but a secondary Objection: The principal one is,
that the Attempt is absurd.
However, the Circumstance of Danger is not without its Weight: Nor is the Gentleman's reply at all sufficient—
"that the Practice fairly managed can never be dangerous."
For though Men are not dishonest in obtruding false Circumstances upon us, we may be so
weak
as to
obtrude
them upon ourselves. Nay, it can hardly be otherwise, if, instead of exerting our Reason to correct the Suggestions of Fancy and Passion, we give them an unlimited Range, and acquiesce in their partial or groundless Representations, without calling in Reason to decide upon their Truth or Falsehood. By this means we shall often
"view Objects of real Dignity and Excellence,"
in such Shapes and Colours as are foreign to their Nature; and then sit down and laugh most profoundly at the Phantoms of our own creating.
BUT still he insists, that though false Circumstances be imposed upon us, yet
"the Sense of Ridicule always
judges right,
"
or in more vulgar Terms,
"The Passion of Contempt always judges right."
Whereas, in Truth, it never
judges
at all; being equally excited by Objects real or imaginary that present themselves.
OBSERVE therefore what a Number of
new
Phrases and
blind
Guides this of Ridicule, if once admitted, would bring in upon us, and all on equal Authority. For with the same Reason, as the Passion of Contempt is styled the
Sense of Ridicule,
the Passion of
Fear
may be called the
Sense of Danger,
and
Anger
the
Sense of Injury.
But who hath ever dreamt of exalting these Passions into so many Tests of the Reality of their respective Objects? The Design must have been rejected as absurd, because it is the Province of Reason alone, to correct the blind Sallies of every Passion, and fix it on its proper Object. Now, the Scheme of Ridicule is of the same Nature. It proposes the Passion of Contempt as the Test of moral Falsehood, which, from the very Terms, appears to be a Project full as wise, as to make Fear the Test of Danger, or Anger the Test of Injury.
THE Gentleman proceeds next to the Case of SOCRATES. He owns
"the SOCRATES of ARISTOPHANES is as truly ridiculous a Character as ever was drawn: But it is not the Character of SOCRATES, the divine Moralist and Father of ancient Wisdom."
—No indeed: and here lay the Wickedness of the Poet's Intention, and the Danger of his Art: in imposing Fictions for Realities on the misled Multitude; and putting a Fool's Coat on the Father of ancient Wisdom. 'Tis true, the People laughed at the
ridiculous Sophist;
but when the ridiculous Sophist came to drink the Poison, what think you became of the Father of ancient Wisdom?
BUT then he tells us, that as the comic Poet introduced foreign Circumstances into the Character of SOCRATES, and built his Ridicule upon these;
"So has the Reasoning of SPINOZA made many Atheists; he has founded it indeed on Suppositions utterly false, but allow him these, and his Conclusions are unavoidably true. And if we must reject the Use of Ridicule, because, by the Imposition of false Circumstances, things may be made to seem ridiculous, which are not so in themselves; why we ought not to reject the Use of Reason, because, by proceeding on false Principles, Conclusions will appear true which are impossible in Nature, let the vehement and obstinate Declaimers against Ridicule determine
Page 106.
."
BUT why so much Indignation against
Declaimers
in one who writes in Defence of
Ridicule,
a Species of
Declamation?
Then as to
rejecting
the Use of Ridicule, a very material Distinction is to be made: As a
Mode of Eloquence
nobody attempts totally to reject it, while it remains under the Dominion of Reason: But as a
Test of Truth,
I hope the Reader hath seen sufficient Reason totally to reject it.
NEITHER will the Parallel by any means hold good, which the Gentleman hath attempted to draw between the Abuse of
Ridicule
and
Reason.
Because the Imagination, to which the Way of Ridicule applies, is apt to form to itself innumerable fictitious Resemblances of Things which tend to confound Truth with Falsehood: Whereas the natural Tendency of Reason is to separate these apparent Resemblances, and determine which are the
real,
and which the
fictitious.
Although therefore SPINOZA hath advanced many Falsehoods in the Way of speculative Affirmation, and founded his Reasonings on these, yet still Reason will be her own Correctress, and easily discover the Cheat. But if the Imagination be impressed with false Appearances, and the Passion of Contempt strongly excited, neither the
Imagination
nor the
Passion can ever correct themselves;
but must inevitably be misled, unless
Reason
be called in to rectify the Mistake, and bring back the Passion to its proper Channel.
NAY, so far is the Use of Ridicule, when prior to rational Conviction, from being parallel to Reason, or co-operative with it; that, on the contrary, it hath a strong Tendency to prevent the Efforts of Reason, and to confound its Operations. It is not pretended that human Reason, though the
ultimate,
is yet in all Cases an
adequate
Test of Truth: It is always fallible, often erroneous: But it would be much less erroneous, were every Mode of Eloquence, and Ridicule above all others, kept remote from its Operations; were no Passion suffered to blend itself with the Researches of the Mind. For Ridicule, working on the Imagination and Passions, disposes the Mind to receive and acquiesce in any Opinion without its proper Evidence. Hence Prejudice arises; and the Mind, which should be
free
to examine and weigh those
real
Circumstances which PROVE SOCRATES to be indeed a divine Philosopher, is drawn by the
prior
Suggestions of
Ridicule
to receive and acquiesce in those false Circumstances, which PAINT him as a
contemptible Sophist.
TO conclude: 'Tis no difficult Matter to point out the Foundation of this Gentleman's Errors concerning Ridicule. They have arisen solely from his mistaking
the Passion of Contempt
for a
judicial Faculty:
Hence all those new-fangled Expressions of—
"the Faculty of Ridicule"—"the Sense of Ridicule"—and "the feeling of the Ridiculous:"
In the Use of which he seems to have imposed upon himself new Phrases for Realities, and Words for Things. I cannot better illustrate this Remark, than by transcribing a Passage from the incomparable LOCKE.—
"Another great Abuse of Words is, the taking them for Things. To this Abuse Men are most subject, who confine their Thoughts to any one System, and give themselves up to the firm Belief of the Perfection of any received Hypothesis; whereby they come to be persuaded, that the Terms of that Sect are so suited to the Nature of Things, that they perfectly correspond with their real Existence. Who is there that has been bred up in the Peripatetic Philosophy, who does not think the ten Names, under which are ranked the ten Predicaments, to be exactly conformable to the Nature of Things? Who is there of that School, that is not persuaded, that
substantial Forms, vegetative Souls, Abhorrence of a Vacuum, intentional Species, etc.
are something real?"—"There is scarce any Sect in Philosophy has not a distinct Set of Terms that others understand not. But yet this
Gibberish,
which, in the Weakness of human Understanding, serves so well to palliate Men's Ignorance, and cover their Errors, comes by familiar Use amongst those of the same Tribe, to seem the most important Part of Language, and of all other the Terms the most significant
Locke
on Hum. Understanding,
B. iii. c. 10. § 14.
."
And now to save the Trouble of Repetition, the Reader is left to determine how far
"the
Faculty of Ridicule
feeling the Incongruity"
—and
"the
Sense of Ridicule
always judging right"
—may with Propriety be placed among the learned
Gibberish
above-mentioned.
'TIS strange this Gentleman should have erred so widely in so plain a Subject; when we consider, that he hath accidentally thrown out a Thought, which, if pursued, would have led him to a full View of the Point debated:
"The Sensation of Ridicule is not a bare
Perception
of the Agreement or Disagreement of Ideas; but
a Passion
or
Emotion
of the Mind
consequential to that Perception
P. 103.
."
SECTION XI.
TO return therefore to the noble Writer. As it is evident, that
Ridicule
cannot in general without Absurdity be applied as a Test of Truth; so can it least of all be admitted in
examining Religious Opinions,
in the Discussion of which, his Lordship seems principally to recommend it. Because, by inspiring the contending Parties with
mutual Contempt,
it hath a violent Tendency to destroy
mutual Charity,
and therefore to prevent
mutual Conviction.
TO illustrate this Truth, let us consider the following Instance, which seems clear and full to the Point.
THERE is not perhaps in any Language a bolder or stronger Ridicule, than the wellknown Apologue of
The Tale of a Tub.
Its manifest Design is to recommend the
English Church,
and to disgrace the two Extremes of
Popery
and
Puritanism
Some indeed have pretended otherwise. Thus Mr.
Wotton,
in his
Reflections on Learning,
says,
"It is a designed Banter upon all that is esteemed sacred among Men."
And the pious Author of the
Independent Whig
affirms it was
"the sole
open
Attack that had been made upon
Christianity
since the Revolution, except the
Oracles of Reason,
and was not inferior in Banter and Malice, to the Attacks of
Celsus,
or
Julian,
or
Porphyry,
or
Lucian.
" p. 399.
Where by the Way, the Oddity of the
Contrast
is remarkable enough; that he should pronounce the
Tale of a Tub
to be a
Libel on Christianity,
while it is in Fact
a Vindication of our Ecclesiastical Establishment;
and at the same Time entitle his own Book
a Vindication of our Ecclesiastical Establishment,
while in Fact it is
a Libel on Christianity.
. Now, if we consider this exquisite Piece of Raillery as a Test of Truth, we shall find it impotent and vain: For the Question still recurs, whether MARTIN be a just Emblem of the
English, Jack
of the
Scotch,
or
Peter
of the
Roman Church.
All the Points in Debate between the several Parties are taken for granted in the Representation: And we must have Recourse to
Argument,
and to that alone, ere we can determine the Merits of the Question.
IF we next consider this Master-piece of Wit as a Mode of
Eloquence,
we shall find it indeed of great
Efficacy
in confirming every Member of the
Church of England
in his own Communion, and in giving him a thorough Distaste of those of
Scotland
and
Rome:
And so far as this may be regarded as a Matter of
public Utility,
so far the Ridicule may be laudable.
BUT if we extend our Views so as to comprehend a larger Plan of
moral Use;
we shall find this Method of Persuasion is such, as Charity can hardly approve of: For by representing the one of these Churches under the Character of
Craft and Knavery,
the other under that of
incurable Madness,
it must needs tend to inspire every Member of the
English
Church who believes the Representation, with such
Hatred
of the one, and
Contempt
of the other, as to prevent all
friendly Debate
and
rational Remonstrance.
ITS effect on those who hold the Doctrines of CALVIN, or of
Rome,
must be yet worse: Unless it can be proved, that the Way to attract the Love, and convince the Reason of Mankind, is to shew that we hate or despise them. While they revere what we deride, 'tis plain, we cannot
both
view the Subject in the same Light: And though we deride what appears to us
contemptible,
we deride what to them appears
sacred.
They will therefore accuse us of misrepresenting their Opinions, and abhor us as
unjust
and
impious.
THUS although this noted Apologue be indeed a Vindication of our
English
Church, yet it is such as had been better spared: Because its natural Effect is to create Prejudice, and inspire the contending Parties with mutual Distaste, Contempt, and Hatred.
BUT if the Way of Ridicule is thus wholly to be rejected in treating every
controverted
Subject; it will probably be asked,
"Where then is it to be applied? Whether it is reasonable
to calumniate and blacken
it without Distinction?
And whether it is not Impiety, thus
to vilify the Gifts of our Maker?
"
AND 'tis certain, that to do this, were absurd and impious. As on the other hand, there is an equal Absurdity and Impiety in confounding that Order of Things which the Creator hath established, and endeavouring to raise
a blind Passion
into the
Throne of Reason.
One Party or other in this Debate hath certainly incurred the Censure: The Censure is severe, and let it fall where it is deserved. I know none that endeavour to vilify and blacken Ridicule without Distinction, unless when it presumes to elevate itself into a
Test of Truth:
And then, as a Rebel to the Order and Constitution of Nature, it ought to be resolutely encountered and repelled, till it take Refuge in its own inferior Station.
THE proper Use of Ridicule therefore is,
"to disgrace
known
Falsehood:"
And thus, negatively at least,
"to enforce
known
Truth."
Yet this can only be affirmed of certain Kinds of Falsehood or Incongruity, to which we seem to have appropriated the general Name of
Folly:
And among the several Branches of this, chiefly I think, to AFFECTATION. For as every
Affectation
arises from a false Pretence to
Praise,
so a
Contempt incurred
tends to
convince
the Claimant of his
Error,
and thus becomes the natural Remedy to the Evil.
MUCH more might be said on this Head. We might run through numerous Divisions and Subdivisions of
Folly:
But as the Task would be both insignificant and endless, I am unwilling to trouble the Reader with such elaborate Trifles.
IT seems an Observation more worthy of our Attention and Regard; that
Contempt,
whence Ridicule arises, being a
selfish Passion,
and nearly allied to
Pride,
if not absolutely founded on it; we ought ever to keep a strict Rein, and in general rather curb than forward its Emotions. Is there a more important Maxim in Philosophy than this, that we should gain a Habit of controuling our Imaginations and Passions by the Use of Reason? Especially those that are rather of the selfish than the benevolent Kind? That we should not suffer our Fears to sink us in Cowardice, our Joys in Weakness, our Anger in Revenge? And sure there is not a Passion that infests human Life, whose Consequences are so generally pernicious as those of
indulged Contempt.
As the common Occurrences of Life are the Objects which afford it Nourishment, so by this means it is kept more constantly in Play, than any other Affection of the Mind: And is indeed the general Instrument by which Individuals, Families, Sects, Provinces, and Nations, are driven from a State of mutual Charity, into that of Bitterness and Dissention. We proceed from Raillery to Railing; from Contempt to Hatred. Thus if the Love of Ridicule be not in itself a Passion of the malevolent Species, it leads at least to those which are so. Add to this, that the most ignorant are generally the most contemptuous; and they the most forward to
deride,
who are most incapable or most unwilling to
understand.
Narrow Conceptions of Things lead to groundless Derision: And this Spirit of Scorn in its Turn, as it cuts us off from all Information, confirms us in our preconceived and groundless Opinions.
THIS being the real Nature and Tendency of Ridicule, it cannot be worth while to descant much on its Application, or explore its Subserviency to the Uses of Lise. For though under the severe Restrictions of Reason, it may be made a proper Instrument on many Occasions, for disgracing
known Folly;
yet the Turn of Levity it gives the Mind, the Distaste it raises to all candid and rational Information, the Spirit of Animosity it is apt to excite, the Errors in which it confirms us when its Suggestions are false, the Extremes to which it is apt to drive us, even when its Suggestions are true; all these conspire to tell us, it is rather to be wished than hoped, that its Influence upon the whole can be considerable in the Service of
Wisdom
and
Virtue.
LORD SHAFTESBURY himself, in many other Parts of his Book, strongly insists on the Necessity of bringing the Imagination and Passions under the Dominion of Reason.
"The only Poison to
Reason,
says he, is
Passion:
For
false Reasoning
is soon redressed, where Passion is removed
Wit and Humour,
Part ii. § 1.
."
And it is difficult to assign any Cause that will not reflect some Dishonour on the noble Writer, why he should thus strangely have attempted to privilege this Passion of
Contempt
from so necessary a Subjection. Let it suffice, in Conclusion, to observe; that Inconsistencies must ever arise and be persisted in, when a roving Fancy, conducted by
Spleen
and
Affectation,
goes in Quest of idle Novelties, without subjecting itself to the just Restraints of
Reason.
UPON the whole: This new Design of
discovering
Truth by the
vague
and
unsteady Light
of Ridicule, puts one in Mind of the honest
Irishman,
who applied his
Candle
to the
Sun-Dial,
in order
to see how the Night went.
ESSAYS ON THE Characteristics, etc.
ESSAY II. On the Obligations of Man to Virtue, and the Necessity of religious Principle.
HAVING considered the noble Writer's two first Treatises, so far as they regard the
Use of Ridicule,
we now come to his
Soliloquy,
or
Advice to an Author.
And here, bating only a few accidental Passages, which will be occasionally pointed out hereafter, we shall have little more to do, than to approve and admire: The whole Dissertation being, in its general Turn, one continued Instance of its Author's Knowledge and refined Taste in Books, Life, and Manners. I could dwell with Pleasure on the Beauties of this Work, if indeed they needed an Explanation: But that noble Union of Truth and Eloquence which shines through the whole, as it supersedes, so it would disgrace any Attempt of this Kind. To the Work itself therefore I recommend the Reader.
THE noble Writer having thus prepared us for the Depths of Philosophy, by enjoining an unfeigned and rigorous
Self-Examination;
proceeds to that highest and most interesting of all Subjects,
The Obligations of Man to the Practice of Virtue.
And here it will probably appear, that with a Variety of useful Truths, he hath blended several plausible Mistakes, which, when more nearly viewed, seem to be attended with a Train of very extraordinary Consequences. What he hath given us on this Subject, lies chiefly in the two Treatises, which compose his second Volume: But as he frequently refers us to the other Parts of his Writings, where he hath accidentally treated the same Points in a more explicit Manner; so the same Liberty of comparing one Passage with anther, will, I apprehend, be judged reasonable by the candid Reader. Thus we shall more effectually penetrate into his true Scope and Intention; and draw off, as far as may be, that Veil of
Mystery,
in which, for Reasons best known to himself, he hath so often wrapped his Opinions.
SECTION II.
'TIS no uncommon Circumstance in Controversy, for the Parties to engage in all the Fury of Disputation, without precisely instructing their Readers, or truly knowing themselves, the Particulars about which they differ. Hence that fruitless Parade of Argument, and those opposite Pretences to Demonstration, with which most Debates, on every Subject, have been infested. Would the contending Parties first be sure of their own Meaning (a Species of Self-Examination which, I think, the noble Writer hath not condescended to mention) and then communicate their Sense to others in plain Terms and Simplicity of Heart, the Face of Controversy would soon be changed: And real Knowledge, instead of imaginary Conquest, would be the noble Reward of literary Toil.
IN the mean Time, a History of
Logomachies
A Strife about Words.
well executed, would be no unedifying Work. And in order to open a Path to so useful an Undertaking, I will venture to give the present Section as an Introduction to it: For sure, among all the Questions which have exercised the Learned, this concerning
the Obligations of Man to Virtue
hath given Rise to the greatest Profusion of loose Talk and ambiguous Expression. The Argument hath been handled by several of great Name: And it might possibly be deemed Presumption to differ from any of them, had they not so widely differed among themselves. Much hath been said, and various have been their Opinions concerning our
Obligations
to
Virtue;
but little hath been said in any definitive Manner, on the previous and fundamental Question,
What Virtue is.
By which I do not mean, what Actions are called Virtuous, for, about that, Mankind are pretty well agreed, but,
what makes Virtue to be what it is.
And till we have determined this with all possible Precision, we cannot determine
"upon what Foundation Mankind are obliged to the Practice of it."
Our first Enquiry therefore must be, concerning the
Nature
of
Virtue:
In the Investigation of which, the Moralists of most Ages seem to have been remarkably defective.
LET us first consider what our noble Author hath said on this Subject. He tells us,
"The Mind cannot be without its Eye and Ear; so as to discern Proportion, distinguish Sound, and scan each Sentiment and Thought which comes before it. It can let nothing escape its Censure. It feels the soft and harsh, the agreeable and disagreeable in the Affections; and finds a
foul
and
fair,
an
harmonious
and a
dissonant,
as really and truly here, as in any musical Numbers, or in the outward Forms and Representations of sensible Things. Nor can it withold its Admiration and Extasy, its Aversion and Scorn, any more in what relates to one, than to the other of these Subjects. So that to deny the common natural Sense of a
sublime
and
beautiful
in Things, will appear an
Affectation
merely to any one who considers duly of this Affair
Inquiry concerning Virtue,
Part iii. § 3.
."
The Perception of this Beauty he calls the
moral Sense
or
Taste;
and affirms, that Virtue consists in
"a perfect Conformity of our Affections and Actions with this supreme Sense and Symmetry of Things."
Or, to use his own Words,
"The Nature of Virtue consists in a certain just Disposition or proportionable Affection of a rational Creature towards the
moral Objects of Right and Wrong
Inquiry concerning Virtue,
Part iii. § 1.
."
THE next Writer I shall mention is the learned and amiable Dr. CLARKE. He thinks it necessary to reject this Idea of Virtue, which the noble Writer had established; and as a surer Foundation, than what mere
Affection, Sense,
or
Taste
could produce, lays the Basis of Virtue in
Reason:
And insists, that its true Nature lies in
"a Conformity of our Actions, with certain eternal and immutable Relations and Differences of Things. That from these, which are necessarily perceived by every rational Agent, there naturally arise certain
moral Obligations,
which are of themselves incumbent on all, antecedent to all positive Institution, and to all Expectation of Reward or Punishment
Clarke's
Demonst.
passim.
."
AFTER these, comes an ingenious and candid Writer, and in Opposition to both these Schemes of Moral, fixes the Nature of Virtue in
"a Conformity of our Actions with
Truth.
"
He affirms, that
"no Act, whether Word or Deed, of any Being, to whom moral Good and Evil are imputable, that interferes with any
true
Proposition, or
denies
any thing to be as it is, can be
right.
That, on the contrary, every Act is right which does not contradict Truth, but treats every thing as being what it is
Wollaston's
Rel. of Nat.
§ 1. passim.
."
There are, besides these, several other philosophical Opinions concerning the Nature of Virtue: as, that it consists in following
Nature
—in avoiding all
Extremes
—in the Imitation of the
Deity.
But these are still more loose and indeterminate Expressions, if possible, than the former. If therefore the first should appear vague and ineffectual, the latter must of Course sall under an equal Censure.
NOW it will appear, that all the three Definitions of Virtue, which Lord SHAFTESBURY, Dr. CLARKE, and Mr. WOLLASTON have given us, in designed Opposition to each other, are equally defective;
"Because they do not give us any more particular or determinate Ideas, than what we have from that
single Word,
which with so much fruitless Labour they attempt to define."
LET us first examine the noble Writer's Definition in this View. He says, that
"Virtue consists in a Conformity of our Affections with our natural Sense of the Sublime and Beautiful in Things, or with the moral Objects of Right and Wrong."
—Now, what new Idea do we gain from this pompous Definition? Have we not the same general Idea from the Word
Virtue,
as from the more diffused Expression of
the Sublime and Beautiful of Things?
And cannot we gather as much from either of these, as from the subsequent Phrase, the
moral Objects of Right and Wrong?
"—They are all general Names, relative to something which is yet unknown, and which is no more explained by the pretended Definition, than by the Word which is attempted to be defined. Indeed, when his Lordship further affirms, that to relieve the Needy, or help the Friendless, is an Instance of this Sublime and Beautiful of Things, we then obtain a more determinate Idea, with Regard to that particular Case. But still we are as much as ever at a Loss for a general
Criterion
or
Test,
by which the Virtue of our other Actions is to be determined. To say, therefore, that Virtue consists in acting according to the
fair,
the
handsome,
the
sublime,
the
beautiful,
the
decent,
the
moral Objects
of
Right
and
Wrong,
is really no more than ringing Changes upon Words. We might with equal Propriety affirm,
"that
Virtue
consists in
acting virtuously.
"
This Deficiency Mr. WOLLASTON clearly saw.
"They, says he, who reckon nothing to be
(morally)
good, but what they call
honestum,
may denominate Actions according as that is, or is not the Cause or End of them: But then, what is
honestum?
Something is still wanting to measure Things by, and to separate the
honesta
from the
inhonesta
Rel. of Nat.
p. 22.
."
DR. CLARKE's Definition seems not to include any thing more precise or determinate, than the noble Writer's. He affirms, that
"Virtue consists in a Conformity of our Actions with right Reason, or the eternal and immutable Relations and Differences of Things."
Here then a parallel Question ariseth,
"What is
right Reason,
and what these
eternal Relations
which are affirmed, by the learned Writer, to be the Test or Criterion of Virtue?"
And 'tis observable, that when he comes to prove the Truth and Reality of these
Relations,
he is forced to resolve it into a
self-evident
Proposition.
"These Things, saith he, are so notoriously plain and
self-evident,
that nothing but the extremest Stupidity of Mind, Corruption of Manners, or Perverseness of Spirit, can possibly make any Man entertain the least Doubt concerning them
Demonst.
p. 50.
."
Thus too, his ingenious
Advocate,
when pushed by his Adversary to declare, whether he perceives the Truth of these Relations by
Proof
or
Intuition,
confesses
"they may be looked upon as
self-evident
Balguy's
Tracts,
2d Part of
Mor. Goodness,
p. 10.
."
Here then we may observe a strong Coincidence between the noble Writer's System of Expression, and this of Dr. CLARKE: For as the one affirms, that the
Sublime
and
Beautiful
of Things is
self-evident,
so the other affirms the same of the
Fit
and
Reasonable.
And as the
Sublime
and
Beautiful
give us no more determinate Ideas, than the
Virtuous,
so neither can we obtain any additional Information from the
Fit
and
Reasonable.
We are equally at a Loss to know what is
fit
and
reasonable,
as to know what is
virtuous:
Therefore the
one
can never be an adequate Definition of the other. Here too, Mr. WOLLASTON plainly saw the Want of Precision. As to those, he saith,
"who make
right Reason
to be a Law—it is true, that whatever will bear to be tried by right Reason, is right; and that which is condemned by it, wrong:—But the Manner in which they have delivered themselves,
is not yet explicit enough.
It leaves Room for so many Disputes and
opposite right Reasons,
that nothing can be settled, while every one pretends that
his
Reason is right
Rel. of Nat.
p. 23.
."
NOW it will doubtless appear a Circumstance of Singularity, that Mr. WOLLASTON, who saw the essential Defects of these two Definitions, should himself offer a
third,
which is precisely liable to the same Objection.
"Virtue, saith this learned Writer, consists in a Conformity of our Actions with Truth; in treating every thing as being what it is."
Well: be it so. Yet the Question still recurs, what is
moral Truth?
And this demands a
Definition
no less than
Virtue,
which was the Thing to be defined. Had Lord SHAFTESBURY lived to see this new Theory proposed, how naturally would he have retorted Mr. WOLLASTON's Objection?
"You, Mr. WOLLASTON, reckon nothing to be
morally Good,
but what you call
Truth:
And you may indeed denominate Actions, according as that is, or is not, the Cause or End of them: But then, what is
Truth?
Something further is still wanting to measure Things by, and to separate
Truth
from
Falsehood.
"
—Thus too would Dr. CLARKE have naturally replied:
"'Tis true, that whatever will bear to be tried by
Truth,
is right; and that which is condemned by it, wrong: But the Manner in which you have delivered yourself, is not yet explicit enough. You have rather confounded my Definition, than given a new one of your own: All that you have added, is an Impropriety of Speech. I speak of the
Rectitude
of Actions, you of the
Truth
of Actions; which I call an Impropriety of Speech, because
Truth
relates to
Affirmations,
not to
Actions;
to what is
said,
not to what is
done.
But supposing the Propriety of your Expression, what further Criterion have you gained? You confess, that
Truth
is discovered by
Reason
only; for you say, that
to deny Things to be as they are, is the Transgression of the great Law of our Nature, the Law of Reason
Rel. of Nat.
p. 15.
. If so, then Reason is as good a Guide as Truth: We can as certainly know what is
right Reason,
as what is
Truth.
If therefore my Definition is defective, yours must be so too. If mine leaves Room for so many Disputes and
opposite right Reasons,
that nothing can be settled, while every one pretends that this Reason is
right;
yours must of Necessity be liable to the same Objection, must leave Room for so many Disputes and
opposite Truths,
that nothing can be settled, while every one pretends that his Idea of
Truth
is the
right
one. Truth, then, can never be a better Criterion than Reason, because our Idea of
Truth
must always
depend
upon our
Reason.
"
THUS it should seem, that our three celebrated Writers have not given the Satiffaction which might have been expected in an Affair of such philosophical Importance. Their common Attempt is to define the Nature, or fix the Criterion of Virtue: To this End, the first affirms, it consists in a a Conformity of our Actions to the
Fair
and
Handsome,
the
Sublime
and
Beautiful
of Things: The Second, the
Fitness, Reasons,
and
Relations
of Things: The Third, the
Truth
of Things. But inasmuch as these general Terms of
Beauty, Fitness, Truth,
convey not any more determinate Idea, than that of
Virtue,
which they are brought to define; the several pretended Definitions are therefore
inadequate
and
defective
Let it be observed once for all, that the Desinitions here censured as defective, are little more than direct Transcripts of what the old
Greek
Philosophers, and
Tully
after them, have said on the same Subject. To shew how generally this Kind of Language infects the Writers on Morality, we need only transcribe the following Passage from a Follower of the noble Writer.
"We need not therefore be at a Loss, said he, for a
Description
of the sovereign Good.—We may call it
Rectitude
of Conduct.—If that be too contracted, we may enlarge, and say, 'tis—to live perpetually selecting and rejecting according to
the Standard of our Being.
If we are for still different Views, we may say, 'tis—to live in the Discharge of
Moral Offices
—to live
according to Nature
—To live
according to Virtue
—to live according to
just Experience
of those Things which happen around us."
Three Treatises by
J. H.
Treat. 3d . p. 207.
.
WHAT then is
Virtue?
Let us consider its true Nature in the following Section.
SECTION III.
THERE are few among Mankind, who have not been often struck with Admiration at the Sight of that Variety of Colours and Magnificence of Form, which appear in an Evening
Rainbow.
The
uninstructed
in Philosophy consider that splendid Object, not as dependent on any other, but as being possessed of a
self-given
and
original Beauty.
But he who is led to know, that its Place and Appearance always varies with the Situation of the
Sun;
that when the latter is in his Meridian, the former becomes an inconsiderable Curve skirting the Horizon; that as the Sun descends, the Rainbow rises; till at the Time of his
Setting,
it encompasses the Heavens with a glorious Circle, yet
dies
away when he
disappears;
the Enquirer is then convinced, that this gay Meteor did but shine with a
borrowed
Splendor, derived from the Influence of that mighty
Luminary.
THUS, in like Manner, though the
Beauty, Fitness, Truth,
or VIRTUE, of all those Actions which we term
morally Good,
seem at first View to reside in the several Actions, in an original and independent Manner; yet on a nearer Scrutiny we shall find, that, properly speaking, their Nature ariseth from their
Ends
and
Consequences;
that as these
vary,
the Nature of the several Actions
varies
with them; that from these alone, Actions gain their
Splendor,
are denominated
morally Good,
and give us the Ideas of
Beauty, Fitness, Truth,
or
Virtue.
THE first Proofs in Support of this Opinion shall be drawn from those very Writers who most zealously oppose it. And here 'tis first remarkable, that
"while they attempt, to fix their several Criterions of absolute, independent Beauty, Fitness, and Truth; they are obliged to admit
Exceptions,
which effectually destroy what they design to establish."
The following Instance, from one of these celebrated Writers, is equally applicable to the other two.
MR. WOLLASTON speaks in the following Manner:
"To talk to a Post, or otherwise treat it as if it was a Man, would surely be reckoned an
Absurdity,
if not
Distraction.
Why? Because this is to treat it as being what it is not. And why should not the converse be reckoned as bad; that is, to treat a Man as a Post? As if he had no Sense, and felt not Injuries which he doth feel; as if to him Pain and Sorrow were not Pain; Happiness not Happiness
Rel. of Nat.
p. 15.
."
Now, you see that on his Scheme of absolute irrelative Truth, the Absurdity of
talking to a Post
is precisely of the same Nature with that of
injuring a Man:
For in both Cases, we treat the Post and the Man, as being
what they are not.
Consequently, on this Philophy, if it be morally Evil to
injure a Man,
'tis likewise morally Evil to
talk
to a
Post.
Not that I suppose Mr. WOLLASTON would have maintained this Consequence. He knew that the First of these Absurdities would only deserve the Name of
Folly;
that the latter, of a
Crime.
As therefore he allows that Truth is equally violated in either Case; as there is something
highly
immoral
in the one, and
nothing immoral
in the other, here is an Exception which overturns his Principle: which proves that the Morality or Immorality of Actions depends on something
distinct
from mere abstract, irrelative
Truth.
THE same Exception must be admitted on Dr. CLARKE's System of Expression. For sure, 'tis neither
fit
nor
reasonable,
nor agreeable to the Relations of Things, that a Man should talk to a Post. Yet, although it be admitted as
irrational
and
absurd,
I do not imagine, any of Dr. CLARKE's Defenders would say it was
immoral.
So again, with regard to Lord SHAFTESBURY, 'tis clear there can be nothing of the
Sublime
or
Beautiful
in this Action of talking to a Post: On the contrary, there is (to use his own Manner of Expression) an apparent Indecency, Impropriety, and
Dissonance
in it. Yet, although his Admirers might justly denominate it
incongruous,
they would surely be far from branding it as
vile.
Here then the same Exception again takes place, which demonstrates that
Virtue
cannot consist either in
abstract Fitness
or
Beauty;
but that something further is required in order to constitute its Nature.
POSSIBLY therefore, the Patrons of these several Theories may alledge, that Actions which relate to
inanimate Beings
only, can properly be called no more than
naturally
beautiful, fit, or true: But that
moral
Fitness, Beauty, or Truth, can only arise from such Actions as relate to Beings that are
sensible
or
intelligent.
Mr. BALGUY expresly makes this Exception: He affirms, that
"moral Actions are such as are knowingly directed towards some Object intelligent or sensible
First Treat. on Moral Goodness,
p. 28.
."
AND so far indeed this Refinement approaches towards the Truth, as it excludes all
inanimate
Things from being the Objects of moral Good and Evil. Yet even this Idea of moral Beauty, Fitness, or Truth, is highly indeterminate and defective: Because innumerable Instances may be given, of Actions directed towards Objects sensible and intelligent, some of which Actions are manifestly
becoming, fit,
or
true,
others as manifestly
incongruous, irrational,
and
false,
yet none of them, in any Degree,
virtuous
or
vicious, meritorious
or
immoral.
Thus to speak to a Man in a Language he understands, is an Action
becoming, fit,
or
true;
'tis treating him according to the Order, Relations, and Truth of Things; 'tis treating him according to
what he is.
On the contrary, to speak to him in a Language he understands not, is an Action neither
becoming, fit,
nor
true;
'tis treating him according to
what he is not;
'tis treating him
as a Post.
But although the first of these Actions be undeniably becoming, fit, or true, who will call it
Virtue?
And though the latter be undeniably incongruous, irrational, and false, who will call it
Vice?
Yet both these Actions are directed towards a Being that is sensible and intelligent. It follows therefore, that an Action is not either morally Good or Evil, merely because it is conformable to the Beauty, Fitness, or Truth of Things, even though it be directed towards an Object both
sensible
and
intelligent;
but that something still further, some more distinguishing and characteristic Circumstance is necessary, in order to fix its real Essence.
WHAT this peculiar Circumstance may be, we come now to enquire. And the first Lights in this Enquiry shall be borrowed from these very celebrated Writers, whom we have here ventured to oppose. For such is the Force and Energy of Truth, that while they are attempting to involve her in a Cloud of Metaphysics, she breaks through the mystic Veil they had prepared and woven for her with so much Art, and diffuseth a Stream of genuine Lustre, which the most obdurate Prejudice can only withstand by winking hard.
AND first, though the
noble
Writer every where attempts to fix an original, independent, moral Beauty of Action, to which every thing is to be referred, and which itself is not to be referred to any thing further
Essay on Wit—Soliloquy—Enquiry—Moralists—Miscellanies
—passim.
: Yet when he comes to an Enumeration of those
particular
Actions, which may be called morally Beautiful, he always singles out such as have a direct and necessary Tendency to
the Happiness of Mankind.
Thus he talks of the Notion of
a public Interest
Enqu.
B. i. p. 2. § 3.
, as necessary towards a proper Idea of Virtue: He speaks of public Affection in the same Manner; and reckons Generosity, Kindness, and Compassion, as the Qualities which alone can render Mankind truly Virtuous. So again, when he fixes the Bounds of the social Affections, he evidently refers us to the same End, of human Happiness.
"If Kindness or Love of the most natural Sort be immoderate, it is undoubtedly vicious. For thus over-great Tenderness
destroys the Effect of Love;
and excessive Pity renders us incapable of giving Succour
Enqu.
B. i. p. 2. § 3.
."
When he fixes the proper Degrees of the
private Affections,
he draws his Proof from this one Point,
"that by having the Self-Passions too intense or strong, a Creature becomes miserable
Ibid.
."
Lastly, when he draws a Catalogue of such Affections, as are most opposite to Beauty and moral Good, he selects
"
Malice, Hatred
of
Society—Tyranny—Anger—Revenge—Treachery—Ingratitude
Ibid.
."
In all these Instances, the Reference to human Happiness is so particular and strong, that from these alone an unprejudiced Mind may be convinced, that the Production of
human Happiness
is the great universal Fountain, whence our Actions derive their
moral Beauty.
THUS again, though the excellent Dr. CLARKE attempts to six the Nature and Essence of Virtue in certain Differences, Relations, and Fitnesses of Things, to which our Actions ought ultimately to be referred; yet in enumerating the several Actions which he denominates
morally Good,
he mentions none, but what evidently promote the same great End,
"the Happiness of Man."
He justly speaks of the
Welfare
of the
Whole,
as being the
necessary
and most
important
Consequence of
virtuous
Action. He tells us,
"that it is
more fit
that GOD should regard the
Good
of the
whole
Creation, than that he should make the Whole continually miserable: That all Men should endeavour to promote the
universal Good
and
Welfare
of all; than that all Men should be continually contriving the
Ruin
and
Destruction
of all
Demonst.
p. 45, &c.
."
Here again, the Reference is so direct and strong to
the Happiness of Mankind,
that even from the Instances alledged by the worthy Author, it appears, that a Conformity of our Actions to this great End, is the very Essence of
moral Rectitude.
MR. WOLLASTON is no less explicit in this particular: For in every Instance he brings,
the Happiness
of Man is the single End to which his Rule of Truth verges in an unvaried Manner. Thus in the Passage already cited, though he considers the
talking to a Post
as an
Absurdity,
he is far from condemning it as an
immoral
Action: But in the same Paragraph, when he comes to give an Instance of the Violation of
moral
Truth, he immediately has recourse to
Man;
and not only so, but to the
Happiness
of Man.
"Why, saith he, should not the Converse be reckoned as bad; that is, to treat a
Man
as a Post; as if he had no
Sense,
and
felt
not
Injuries,
which he doth
feel;
as if to him
Pain
and
Sorrow
were not
Pain; Happiness
not
Happiness.
"
At other Times he affirms, that
"the
Importance
of the Truths on the one and the other Side should be diligently
compared
Rel. of Nat.
p. 19.
."
And I would gladly know, how one Truth can be more important than another, unless upon this Principle, and in Reference to
the Production of Happiness.
Himself indeed confirms this Interpretation, when he speaks as follows:
"The Truth violated in the former Case was, B had a Property in that which gave him such a Degree of
Happiness:
That violated in the latter was, B had a Property in that which gave him a
Happiness
vastly
superior
to the other: The Violation
therefore
in the latter Case was
upon this Account
a vastly
greater
Violation than in the former
Rel. of Nat.
p. 21
."
THESE Evidences may seem sufficient: But that all possible Satisfaction may be given in a Circumstance which is of the greatest Weight in the present Question, these further Observations may be added.
AS therefore these celebrated Writers give no Instances of moral Beauty, Fitness, or Truth, but what finally relate to the Happiness of Man; so if we appeal to the common Sense of Mankind, we shall see that the Idea of Virtue hath never been universally affixed to any Action or Affection of the Mind, unless where this Tendency to produce Happiness was at least
apparent.
What are all the Black Catalogues of Vice or moral Turpitude, which we read in History, or find in the Circle of our own Experience, what are they but so many Instances of
Misery produced?
And what are the fair and amiable Atchievements of
Legislators, Patriots,
and
Sages
renowned in Story, what but so many Efforts to raise Mankind from Misery, and establish the public Happiness on a sure Foundation? The first are
vicious, immoral, deformed,
because there we see Mankind
afflicted
or
destroyed:
The latter are
virtuous, right, beautiful,
because here we see Mankind
preserved
and
assisted.
BUT that
Happiness
is the last Criterion or Test, to which the moral Beauty, Truth, or Rectitude of our Affections is to be referred, the two following Circumstances
demonstrate:
First,
"those very Affections and Actions, which, in the ordinary Course of Things, are approved as virtuous, do change their Nature, and become vicious in the strictest Sense, when they contradict this fundamental Law, of the greatest public Happiness."
Thus, although in general it is a Parent's Duty to prefer a Child's Welfare, to that of another Person, yet, if this natural and just Affection gain such Strength, as to tempt the Parent to violate the
Public
for his Child's
particular
Welfare; what was before a
Duty,
by this becomes immoderate and
criminal.
This the noble Writer hath allowed:
"If Kindness or Love of the most natural Sort be
immoderate,
it is undoubtly
vicious
Enq. on Virtue.
."
And hence, he says,
"the Excess of motherly Love is owned to be a vicious Fondness
Enq. on Virtue.
."
The same
Variation
takes Place with regard to every other Relation between Man and Man. Insomuch, that the superior Regards which we owe to our Family, Friends, Fellow-Citizens, and Countrymen—Regards which, in their proper Degree, aspire to the amiable and high Names of
domestic
Love,
Friendship, Patriotism
—when once they desert and violate the grand Principle of
universal Happiness,
become a
vicious
Fondness, a mean and odious
Partiality,
justly stigmatized by all, as ignominious and
unworthy.
SECONDLY, with such uncontrouled Authority does this great Principle command us; that
"Actions which are in their own Nature, most shocking to every
humane
Affection lose at once their moral Desormity, when they become subservient to the general Welfare; and assume both the Name and the Nature of Virtue."
For what is more contrary to every gentle and kind Affection that dwells in the human Breast, than to shed the Blood, or destroy the Life of Man? Yet the ruling Principle above-mentioned, can reconcile us even to
this.
And when the Necessity of public Example compels us to make a Sacrifice of this Kind; though we may lament the
Occasion,
we cannot condemn the
Fact:
So far are we from branding it as
Murder,
that we approve it as
Justice:
and always defend it on this great Principle alone,
that it was necessary for the public Good.
THUS it appears, that those Actions which we denominate Virtuous, Beautiful, Fit, or True, have not any absolute and independent, but a relative and reflected Beauty: And that their Tendency to produce Happiness is the only Source from whence they derive their Lustre. Hence therefore we may obtain a just and adequate Definition of Virtue: Which is no other than
"the
The Gentlemen above examined seem to have mistaken the
Attributes
of Virtue for its
Essence.
Virtue is procuring Happiness: To procure Happiness is
beautiful, reasonable, true;
these are the Qualities or Attributes of the Action: But the Action itself, or its
Essence,
is procuring Happiness.
The Reader who is curious to examine further into this Subject, may consult the
Prelim. Dissert. to Dr.
LAW's
Translation of
KING's
Origin of Evil:
Together with several Passages in the Translator's
Notes,
where he will find
Sense
and
Metaphysics
united in a very eminent and extraordinary Degree.
Conformity of our Affections with the public Good:"
Or
"the voluntary Production of the greatest Happiness."
SECTION IV.
IT may possibly seem strange that so much has been thought necessary to be opposed to these metaphysical
Refinements
concerning the Nature of Virtue: But in Reality, 'tis a Point of the utmost Consequence: For these Refinements have given rise to a plausible Objection, which hath been retailed in a popular Manner by a late wordy Writer; whose least merit it is to have supplied our modish Coffee-house Philosophers with such a Variety of fashionable Topics, that they have never felt the least Want of that antiquated Assistance derived from Knowledge, Parts, and Learning.
THIS Gentleman, taking Advantage of these metaphysical Refinements, and particularly of the noble Writer's imaginary Scheme of
absolute, irrelative
Beauty,
"the Hunting after which (he elegantly affirms) is not much better than a wild Goose Chase
Fable of the Bees,
vol. i. p. 380. oct. Ed.
;"
attempts from hence to demonstrate, for the
Benefit
of his
Country,
that we are utterly mistaken, when we
"look upon Virtue and Vice as permanent Realities, that must ever be the same in all Countries and all Ages
Fable of the Bees,
p. 372.
:"
And thus he prosecutes his Argument.
THE Worth or Excellence of every thing, he says, varies according to Fancy or Opinion.
"Even in human Creatures, what is beautiful in one Country, is not so in another.—Three hundred Years ago, Men were shaved as closely as they are now; since that, they have wore Beards.—How mean and comical a Man looks, that is otherwise well-dressed, in a narrow-brimed Hat, when every Body wears broad ones: And again, how monstrous is a very great Hat, when the other Extreme has been in Fashion for a considera-Time?—The many Ways of laying out a Garden judiciously are almost innumerable; and what is called Beautiful in them, varies according to the different
Taste
of Nations and Ages
P. 376.
."
Thus capricious and uncertain, he tells us, are our Ideas of natural Beauty; and these he brings home to the Point of Morals.
"In Morals there is no greater Certainty: Plurality of Wives is odious among
Christians,
and all the Wit and Learning of a great Genius in Defence of it, has been rejected with Contempt. But Polygamy is not shocking to a
Mahometan.
What Men have learnt from their Infancy enslaves them, and the Force of Custom warps Nature, and at the same Time imitates her in such a Manner, that it is often difficult to know, which of them we are influenced by. In the East formerly, Sisters married Brothers, and it was meritorious for a Man to marry his Mother. Such Alliances are abominable: But it is certain, that whatever Horror we conceive at the Thoughts of them, there is nothing in Nature repugnant against them, but what is built upon Mode and Custom. A religious
Mahometan
may receive as great an Aversion against Wine
Fable of the Bees,
p. 377, 379.
."
Hence, with great Stretch of Reasoning he concludes,
"that Virtue and Vice are not permanent Realities,"
but vary as other Fashions, and are subject to no other Law, than that of
Fancy
and
Opinion.
AND so far indeed, this Gentleman seems to have argued justly, while he contends that mere
Approbation
and
Dislike,
the mere Idea of
Beauty
and
Deformity, Truth
or
Rectitude,
without Reference to some further
End,
can never constitute a real or permanent Foundation of
Vice
or
Virtue.
For, as he hath observed, there
have
indeed been considerable Differences of Opinion upon
some Kinds
of moral Beauty and Deformity, in the different Nations and Ages of the World: And each Age and Nation hath ever been alike positive in asserting the Propriety of its own. Therefore, unless we have some further Test, some other distinguishing and characteristic Circumstance to refer to, besides that of mere
Approbation
and
Dislike,
how shall we ever know, which of these
anomalous
Opinions are
right
or
wrong?
If we have nothing further to appeal to, than the mere Propriety of
Taste,
though each may be thoroughly satisfied of the Justness of his own; yet he ought in Reason to allow the same Right of Choice to the rest of Mankind in every Age and Nation: And thus indeed,
moral
Beauty and Deformity,
Virtue
and
Vice,
could have no other Law, than that of
Fancy
and
Opinion.
BUT when the great End of public Happiness is ultimately referred to, as the
one,
uniform
Circumstance that constitutes the
Rectitude
of human Actions; then indeed,
Virtue
and
Vice
assume a more
real
and
permanent
Nature: The common
Sense,
nay, the very
Necessities
of Mankind, will urge them to make an unvaried and just
Distinction:
For
Happiness
and
Misery
make too strong an Appeal to all the Faculties of Man, to be borne down by the
Caprice
of Fancy and Opinion. That it was either an accidental or a designed Inattention to this great Principle of
Happiness,
that gave this coarse Writer an Occasion to call in Question the permanent
Reality
of Vice and Virtue, the following Considerations may sufficiently convince us.
SHOULD any one ask, whether
Health
and
Sickness
are two different Things, no Doubt we should answer in the Affirmative: And would surely suspect any Man's Sincerity, who should tell us, that what was accounted Health in one Age or Nation, was accounted Sickness in another. There are likewise such Things as wholesome Food and Poisons: Nor would we entertain a much better Opinion of him who should affirm, that
all
depends upon
Fancy;
that
Bread
or
Milk
are nourishing or destructive, that
Arsenic
and
Sublimate
are wholesome or poisonous, as
Imagination
and
Opinion
dictate. On the contrary we know, their Nature with Respect to Man, is
invariable:
The one, universally wholesome, the other, poisonous. Further: we know there have been Debates among Physicians, about
Regimen
and
Diet:
That some have maintained the Wholesomeness of
Animal,
others of
vegetable
Food: Some recommended the Drinking of
Water,
others of
Wine.
Yet none was ever so weak as to conclude from these different Opinions about wholesome
Diet,
that the nourishing Qualities of
Bread,
or the noxious ones of
Arsenic,
were not
permanent
Realities with regard to Man; or, that the first could be made
poisonous,
the latter,
wholesome,
by Dint of
Fancy
and
Opinion.
NOW, the Case we are debating is exactly parallel. For sure, the
Happiness
and
Misery
of Mankind are Things as distinct as
Health
and
Sickness:
Whence it follows, that certain Actions, under the same Circumstances, must universally produce Happiness or Misery, as naturally as Food produceth Health, or Poison, Sickness, and Death. We have already seen, that whatever tends to the Good of all, is by the consent of all, denominated
Virtue;
that whatever is contrary to this great End, is universally branded as
Vice;
in the same Manner, as whatever nourishes the Body is called
Food;
whatever destroys it,
Poison.
Accordingly, we find the Agreement among Mankind as uniform on the one Subject, as on the other. All Ages and Nations having without Exception or Variance maintained, that Humanity, Fidelity, Truth, Temperance, and mutual Benevolence, do as naturally produce Happiness, as Food gives Health to the Body: That Cruelty, Treachery, Lying, Intemperance, Inhumanity, Adultery, Murder, do as naturally give Rise to Misery, as Poison brings on Sickness and Death.
BUT hath not this Author given such Instances as prove, that what is detested as
Vice
in one Country, is applauded as
Virtue
in another? That
Polygamy
and
incestuous Marriages
have been in some Nations reputed
lawful,
in others
meritorious?
And if one Virtue or Vice be imaginary or
variable,
doth it not clearly follow that
all
are so?
NOW a Man of a common Turn of Thought would be apt to make a very different Inference. If from the
Variety
of Opinions among Mankind as to
some
Virtues or Vices, he concluded
these
were
variable;
then from the universal
Agreement
of Mankind with regard to
other
Virtues and Vices, he would conclude
these
were
fixed
and
invariable.
The
Consent
of Mankind in the
one,
proves as much as their
Disagreement
in the
other.
And 'tis evident that both their Consent and Disagreement arise from the same Principle: A Principle which destroys the Tenets, which this Author labours to establish. For, to resume our Illustration, as the various Opinions concerning the superior Wholesomeness of this or that kind of
Diet,
does not change the Nature of
Bread
or
Poison;
so neither can the various Opinions concerning
Polygamy
or
Incest,
affect or change the Nature of
Benevolence
and
Generosity, Adultery
and
Murder.
'Tis plain, these various Opinions have been formed
"upon such Actions only, as are not universally and clearly connected with the Happiness or Misery of Mankind."
As these Actions have been deemed productive of the
one
or the
other,
they have been regarded as
Virtues
or
Vices:
But this Variety of Opinions does no more unsettle the Nature of those Actions, whose
Tendency
is clear and
certain;
than the Debates on the superior Wholesomeness of animal or vegetable
Diet
can change the Nature of
Bread
and
Poison.
Hence it appears, that Virtue and Vice are permanent Realities, and that their Nature is fixed, certain, and
invariable.
THUS one Extreme produceth another. For the noble Writer and this Gentleman, through a strong Dislike of each other's Systems, have
both
endeavoured to prove
too much,
and in Consequence have proved
nothing.
The one, contending for the permanent
Reality
of Virtue, and, not content to fix it on its proper Basis, attempts to establish certain
absolute
and
immutable
Forms of Beauty, without Regard to any
further End;
and thus, by laying a chimerical Foundation,
betrays
the Cause which he so generously defends. The other, intent on destroying the permanent Reality of Virtue and Vice, and perceiving how weak a Basis the noble Writer had laid for their Establishment, after proving
this
to be imaginary, as wisely as honestly infers, there is no real one in Nature. We now see the Folly of these Extremes: That as on the one Part,
Virtue
and
Vice
are Things merely
relative
to the
Happiness
of Man; so on the other, while Man continues what he is, all those
Relations
which concern his
Happiness,
and arise from his present Manner of Existence, are likewise
permanent
and
immutable.
SECTION V.
BUT this idle Objection against the permanent
Reality
of Virtue and Vice, is not the only one which the Writer last mentioned hath laboured, for the Destruction of Religion and Virtue. For the main Drift and Intention of his Book is to prove no less a Paradox than this, that
"private Vices are public Benefits."
Now, till this Objection be removed, our Idea and Definition of Virtue can never be thoroughly established. For if
private Vices
be
public Benefits,
then private
Virtues
are public
Mischiefs.
And if so, what becomes of our
Definition?
NOW, the first notable Circumstance in this formidable Assertion of Dr. MANDEVILLE, is its utter Inconsistency with all that he hath advanced in order to destroy the Reality of Vice and Virtue. For if indeed these be mere
Names,
the Creatures of Fancy and Opinion, how can they be attended with any
uniform
Effects? How can they be either public
Benefits,
or public
Evils?
—If on the contrary, they really produce certain uniform Effects, as he hath attempted to prove, how can they be mere
Non-Entities,
the Creatures of Fancy and Opinion? Here lies a gross and palpable Incoherence: Take which of his two Theories you please, the other absolutely destroys it. If Vice be a public
Benefit,
it must be a permanent
Reality:
If it is not a permanent
Reality,
it cannot be a public
Benefit.
LET us now examine the Foundations on which he hath built this strange Hypothesis. His Book may be analysed into four different Principles, which he hath variously combined, or rather jumbled together, according as each in their Turn would best serve his Purpose.
THE first Principle he lays down, or rather takes up,
i. e.
for granted, is,
"that Man is a compound of evil Passions:"
In other Words,
"that the Gratisication of the natural Appetites is in itself a Vice."
There are in his Book, at least a hundred Pages of the lowest common-place Declamation, all founded on this one Principle, brought from the
solitary Caves
and
Visions
of the
Desart.
Thus the Desire of being esteemed by others, he stigmatizes with the Name of
Pride:
The natural Desire of social Converse between the two Sexes, he distinguisheth by a
grosser
Appellation. In a word, through the whole Course of his Argument, he
supposes
that every
selfish
Appetite (that is, every Appetite which hath regard to
ourself
) is in its own Nature vile and abominable. This the candid Reader will probably think a little hard upon human Nature: That no Man can be
virtuous,
while he endeavours to be
esteemed,
while he loves to quench his Thirst, minister to Posterity, or eat his Dinner. On the Weight of these plain Instances, the Value of this first Principle may be safely left to any Man's impartial Trial.
HAVING thus branded every Gratification of the natural Appetites; he gains from hence a proper Foundation for the second
Pillar
of this
Temple
of Vice. For he acquaints us with great Solemnity, that, of all other Vices, that of
Luxury
is most beneficial to a State: And that if this were banished the Nation, all Kinds of manual Occupations would immediately languish and decay
Fable of the Bees,
passim.
. He says indeed, that
Pedants
make Objections to this Vice of Luxury, and tell you, that it
enervates
a People: But he adds, that
"since he has seen the World, the Consequences of Luxury to a Nation, seem not so dreadful to him as they did
Ibid. p. 247.
."
Had he left the Matter here, we should have been at a Loss to know how he would have made out this strange Tale: But the Riddle is cleared up at once, when we hear him say, that
"every thing is Luxury, that is not immediately necessary to make Man subsist as he is a living Creature
Ibid. p. 108.
."
WE should have been startled perhaps had he assured us, that he had a
Wind-mill
which laid
Eggs,
and bred
young
ones: But how easily had he reconciled us to his Veracity by only saying, that by a
Wind-mill
he meant a
Goose,
or a
Turkey?
THUS, when he affirms that Luxury produceth public Happiness, we stand ready for some deep and subtile Speculation, to support so wondrous a Paradox. But when he poorly tells us,
"that every thing is Luxury that is not immediately necessary to make Man subsist as he is a living Creature;"
we laugh not so much at his Impudence, as at our own Folly in giving Ear to so idle a Prater, whose wide-mouthed Paradoxes so soon dwindle into a little harmless Nonsense; and when we thought we had him reforming States, and new-modeling Philosophy, he was all the while playing at
Crambo.
LEST it should be suspected, that the Features of this Man's Folly are here aggravated, take a Copy of his Countenance in one Instance out of many that might be given.
"The Consequences, saith he, of this Vice of Luxury to a Nation, seem not so dreadful to me as they did"
—For
"clean Linen weakens a Man no more than Flannel
Fable of the Bees,
p. 119.
."
Now from these Passages laid together, it appears; first, that Luxury is a Vice; secondly, that to wear clean Linen is Luxury; and, therefore, it comes out as clear as the Day,
"that
to wear clean Linen
is a Vice."
SERIOUSLY; the Sophistry here employed, is one of those Insults that can be safely offered only to an
English
Understanding; which though none of the brightest is always ready to reflect the present Object. Did ever any Man before—except only a Set of wrong-headed Enthusiasts, whose Visions he is here obliged to adopt—did ever any Man maintain, that to use the Bounties of Nature, or enjoy the Conveniences of Life was a criminal Indulgence? Did ever any Man maintain, that
he
could be
viciously
luxurious, who neither
hurt
his
Neighbour
nor
himself?
At this Rate, by an arbitrary Use of Words, and putting one Expression for another, we might boldly advance the most palpable Contradictions, and maintain, that Dr. M—D—LE was a Man of Modesty and Virtue.
THUS far we have seen this Writer endeavouring to throw the
false
Colours of
Vice
upon the
natural Passions,
and such a
Use
of the Gifts of Nature as is really
Innocent.
In examining his two remaining Principles, we shall find him acting a Part the very
reverse;
and with the same Effrontery, endeavouring to throw the
false
Colours of
public Utility
on such
Actions
and
Affections
as are really
criminal
and
destructive.
TO this Purpose he boldly selects some of the most flagrant Crimes; and assures us, that without their happy Influence the Public would suffer exceedingly. Who had ever dreamt, that Mankind receives Benefit from
Thieves
and
House-breakers?
Yet he tells us, that
"if all People were strictly honest, half the Smiths in the Nation would want Employment
Fable of the Bees,
p. 82.
."
HIGHWAYMEN too, and
Robbers
are useful in their Generation. For
"if a Miser should be robbed of Five hundred or a thousand Guineas
There is a common Error with regard to
Misers,
on which this pretended Argument is built. They are generally accounted the greatest Enemies of
Society,
because they
hoard
the
Wealth
which ought to
circulate.
Now, to give even a
Miser
his due, this is really a groundless Charge: For they seldom
hoard
more than certain useless Papers or Parchments, in the Shape of
Notes, Bonds,
and
Mortgages:
While the Wealth which they thus
hoard
in
Imagination,
circulates
freely
among all Ranks of People. The Guilt of the Miser's Passion lies in its being essentially destructive both of Justice and Benevolence.
, it is certain, that as soon as this Money should come to circulate, the Nation would be the better for the Robbery, and receive the same and as real a Benefit from it, as if an Archbishop had left the same Sum to the Public
Fable of the Bees,
p. 83.
."
HE is abundantly rhetorical on
"the large Catalogue of solid Blessings that accrue from, and are owing to intoxicating Gin
Fable of the Bees,
p. 89.
."
Insomuch, that if the Drunkenness and Frenzy arising from the excessive Use of this salutary Liquor were curbed by the Magistrate, he seems to foretel the most fatal Consequences to the public Wealth and Welfare.
HERE then he enumerates several real Crimes, which are
necessarily
attended with
great Evils;
and these he demonstrates, are
accidentally
productive of
some Good.
And this indeed is the only Part of his Argument, that is attended with any Degree of Plausibility: For here, it must be owned, there is Room for a dishonest Mind to
confound,
though by no Means to
convince
an impartial Reader. Because the Consequences of these Crimes being of a various and
discordant
Nature, some having the Appearance of
Good,
and others of
Ill
to Society; a
rhetorical
Display of the
former
may possibly induce a superficial Enquirer, who is caught by a Glare of Eloquence, to doubt whether
these
do not really
predominate.
But a moderate Share of Attention will convince us, that this is impossible. Because all the real Vices he mentions, though they be accidentally productive of some Good; yet 'tis such as might effectually be obtained without them. Thus the Money taken wrongfully by Stealth or Robbery, is only of Service to the Public by its Circulation: But Money may circulate without Stealth or Robbery; and therefore 'tis neither the Stealth nor Robbery that is of Service to the Public. On the other part, there are great and substantial Evils, which these Crimes, and these alone give Rise to. On this Occasion one might be very large on the Terrors and Distress, the Murders, and consequent Miseries, which the Villanies patronized by this Writer do necessarily produce. One who was Master of Dr. MANDEVILLE's Town-Rhetoric and
Town-Experience,
might draw a striking Picture of honest and industrious Families rowzed from Sleep at Midnight, only to be plundered and destroyed; of the horrid Attempts of abandoned Wickedness, let loose from Fear by the Security of Darkness; the Shrieks of ravished Maids and Matrons; the dying Groans of Brothers, Fathers, Husbands, weltring in their Blood; the Cries of innocent and helpless Orphans weeping over their murdered Parents, deprived at once of all that were dear to them, of all that could yield them Consolation or Support; and suffering every vile Indignity, that unrelenting Villainy can suggest or perpetrate. And how, think you, does this Scene of domestic Horror change its original Nature, and rise at length into a public Blessing? Why, because the Adventurers, having made off with their Booty, may possibly
"lay it out upon a
Harlot,
or squander it in a
Night-cellar,
or a
Ginshop
Fable of the Bees,
p. 84, 85.
:"
And thus the Money circulates through the Nation. But, in the mean Time, our Philosopher hath forgot the helpless Family reduced to Beggary by the Prowess of his
nocturnal Herces:
He hath forgot that the fond and indulgent Parent might no less probably have laid out the Money in the temperate Maintenance and liberal Education of his Children, which is now squandered in unprofitable
Riot
and
Excess:
That these Destroyers of other Men's Happiness and their own, had they been employed in honest Labour, in the Cultivation of
Lands,
or the Improvement of
Manufactures,
might have done substantial Services to the Public and themselves, without the guilty
Alloy
of unprovoked Mischief. From these Circumstances impartially compared, 'tis evident, that the only essential Consequence of private Vice, is public Misery: And thus our Author's new fashioned System of Morals falls back again into nothing.
HIS fourth Principle is much less plausible. Indeed he never applies to this, but when reduced to the last Necessity: When therefore every other Foundation fails him, he attempts to impose upon his Reader's Negligence or Simplicity, by representing Vice as a
Cause,
where in Reality 'tis a
Consequence.
Thus he tells us,
"Great Wealth and foreign Treasure will ever scorn to come among Men, unless you'll admit their
inseparable Companions,
Avarice and Luxury: Where Trade is considerable, Fraud will
intrude.
To be at
once wellbred
and
sincere,
is no less than a Contradiction: And therefore whilst Man advances in Knowledge, and his Manners are polished, we must expect to see at the same Time his Desires enlarged, his Appetites refined, and his
Vices increased
Fable of the Bees,
p. 201.
."
So again, having been driven from his other strong Holds by certain impertinent Remarkers, whom he wisely dismisseth with an Air of Superiority and Contempt, he takes Refuge in the same ambiguous Phrases: As that
"Vice is
inseparable
from great and potent Societies, in the same Manner as
dirty Streets
are a necessary Evil, inseparable from the
Felicity
of
London
Fable of the Bees,
Preface, p. 9, &c.
."
NOW, though this happy
Simile
may work Wonders in a
Coffee-House,
amongst those who see every
dirty Alley
pregnant with Demonstration; yet, 'tis to be hoped, more serious Readers may distinguish better. And be enabled to tell him, that before they grant his Position,
that private Vice is public Benefit,
they expect he should prove,
"that the Dirt in
London
Streets, is the Cause or Instrument whereby
London
becomes a populous and flourishing City:"
A Proposition almost as remote from common Apprehension, as that
Tenterden Steeple
is the
Cause
of
Goodwin Sands.
Thus, we see how dextrously he puts the Change upon the unwary Reader; and while he pretends to exhibit an
essential Cause,
slurs him off with an
accidental Consequence.
INTO these four Principles, all evidently
False
or
Foreign
to the Purpose, his whole Book may be justly analysed. Nor is there one Observation in the Compass of so many hundred Pages, which tends to support the pernicious Falsehood that disgraceth his
Title-Page,
but what will naturally resolve itself into one or other of these wretched
Sophisms.
'Tis therefore unnecessary to lead the Reader through all the
Windings
of this immense
Labyrinth
of Falsehood, 'tis enough, to have given the
Clue
which may safely conduct him through them.
SECTION VI.
HAVING at Length gained an Adequate Idea of Virtue, and found that it is no other than
"the voluntary Production of the greatest public Happiness;"
we may now safely proceed to consider,
"upon what Foundations Mankind are
obliged
to the Practice of it?"
AND here we shall find another metaphysical
Cloud
resting upon
this
Path, in itself plain and easy to all Mankind. For the very Notion of
Obligation
to Virtue hath been as much consounded by moral Writers, as the Idea of
Virtue
itself. And here we might travel through another System of
Logomachies;
while one asserts, that we are obliged to
love
and
pursue
Virtue, because
she
is
beautiful;
another, because Virtue is
good;
another, because Virtue is
good in itself;
a fourth, because Virtue is
Truth;
a fifth, because it is
agreeable to Nature;
a sixth, because it is agreeable to the
Relations of Things.
BUT 'tis supposed that the intelligent Reader, from a review of the first Section of this Essay, may be convinced, that all these
amusing
Expressions amount to no more than this,
"that there is some Reason or other why we ought to practise Virtue; but that the particular Reason doth not appear, notwithstanding all this refined Pomp of Affirmation."
And as it hath already been made evident, that the
Essence
of Virtue consists in a Conformity of our Affections and Actions, with the greatest
public Happiness;
so it will now appear, that
"the only
Reason
or
Motive,
by which Individuals can possibly be
induced
or
obliged
to the Practice of Virtue, must be the
Feeling
immediate, or the
Prospect
of future
private Happiness.
"
DOUBTLESS, the noble Writer's Admirers will despise and reject this, as an unworthy Maxim. For so it hath happened, that in the Height of their Zeal, for supporting his Opinions, they generally stigmatize
private Happiness,
as a Thing scarce worth a wise Man's enquiring after. Indeed, the many ambiguous Phrases of their Master have contributed not a little to this
vulgar Error.
For in one Place, he brands the modern Philosophers and Divines with the Name of Sophisters and Pedants, for
"rating Life by the Number and Exquisiteness of the pleasing Sensations
Wit and Hum.
Part iii. § 4.
."
At other Times he speaks of
Pleasure,
with all the Contempt of an antient
Stoic
Moral.
Part iii. § 3.
. In the same high Style of the
Athenian Porch,
he passeth Judgment on the Hopes of the Religious:
"They have made Virtue so mercenary a Thing, and have talked so much of its
Rewards,
that one can hardly tell what there is in it, after all, which can be
worth
rewarding
Wit,
Part ii. § 3.
."
So again, he derides those
"modern Projectors, who would new frame the human Heart; and have a mighty Fancy to reduce all its Motions, Balances, and Weights to that one Principle and Foundation of a cool and deliberate
Selfishness:
And thus, Love of one's Country, and Love of Mankind, must also be
Self-love
Wit,
Part ii. § 3.
."
NOW ere we proceed further, it may be necessary to remark, that in some Degree there hath been a
Strife about Words
in this particular too. For these Expressions of
Selfishness
and
Disinterestedness
have been used in a very
loose
and
indeterminate
Manner. In one Sense a
Motive
is called
disinterested;
when it consists in a pure
benevolent
Affection, or a Regard to the
moral Sense.
In another, no Motive is
disinterested:
For even in acting according to these Impulses of Benevolence and Conscience, we gratify an Inclination, and act upon the Principle or
immediate Feeling
of
private Happiness.
Thus when we say,
"We love Virtue for Virtue's Sake;"
'tis only implied, that we find immediate Happiness from the Love and Practice of Virtue, without Regard to external or future Consequences.
ANOTHER Source of mutual Misapprehension on this Subject hath been
"the Introduction of
metaphorical
Expressions instead of
proper
ones."
Nothing is so common among the Writers on Morality, as
"the Harmony of Virtue"—"the Proportion of Virtue."
So the noble Writer frequently expresseth himself. But his favourite Term, borrowed indeed from the Antients, is
"the BEAUTY of Virtue."—
Quae si videri posset, mirabiles excitaret amores
Cicero.
—Of this our Author and his Followers, especially the most ingenious of them
Mr. Hutcheson.
, are so
enamoured,
that they seem utterly to have forgot they are
talking in Metaphor,
when they describe the Charms of this
sovereign Fair.
Insomuch, that an unexperienced Person, who should read their
Encomiums,
would naturally fall into the Mistake of him, who asked the Philosopher,
"Whether the Virtues were not living Creatures
Senecae Epist. cxiv.
?"
Now this
figurative
Manner, so essentially interwoven into philosophical Disquisition, hath been the Occasion of great Error. It tends to mislead us both with regard to the Nature of Virtue, and our Obligations to the Practice of it. For first, it induceth a Persuasion, that Virtue is
excellent
without Regard to any of its Consequences: And secondly, that he must either want Eyes, or common Discernment, who doth not at first Sight fall in Love with this
matchless Lady.
THEREFORE setting aside, as much as may be, all ambiguous Expressions, it seems evident, that
"a Motive, from its very Nature, must be something that affects
ourself.
"
If any Man hath found out a Kind of Motive which doth not affect
himself,
he hath made a deeper Investigation into the
"Springs, Weights, and Balances"
of the human Heart, than I can pretend to. Now what can possibly affect
ourself,
or determine us to Action, but either the Feeling or Prospect of
Pleasure
or
Pain, Happiness
or
Misery?
BUT to come to the direct Proof: 'Tis evident, even to Demonstration, that no
Affection
can, in the strict Sense, be more or less
selfish
or
disinterested
than another; because,
whatever
be its
Object,
the
Affection
itself is
still
no other than a
Mode
either of
Pleasure
or of
Pain;
and is therefore
equally
to be referred to the
Mind
or
Feeling
of the
Patient,
whatever be its
external Occasion.
Indeed, a late Writer of Subtilty and Refinement hath attempted to make a Distinction here. He says,
"It hath been observed, that every Act of Virtue or Friendship is attended with a secret
Pleasure;
from whence it hath been concluded, that Friendship and Virtue could not be disinterested. But the Fallacy of this is obvious. The virtuous Sentiment or Passion
produces
the Pleasure, and does not
arise
from it. I feel a Pleasure in doing good to my Friend,
because
I love him; but I do not love him for the Sake of that Pleasure
Hume's
Essays, Mor.
and
Polit.
p. 125.
."
Now to me, the Fallacy of
this
is obvious. For in Fact, neither the
Passion,
nor the
Pleasure,
are either the
Cause
or the
Consequence
of each other; they neither
produce
nor
arise
from each other; because, in Reality, they are the
same Thing
under
different Expressions.
This will be clear, if we state the Case as follows:
"To
love
my Friend, is to
feel
a
Pleasure
in
doing him Good:
"
And conversely;
"to feel a
Pleasure
in
doing Good
to my Friend, is to
love him.
"
Where 'tis plain that the
Terms
are
synonymous.
The
Pleasure
therefore is the very
Passion itself;
and neither
prior
nor
posterior
to it, as this Gentleman supposeth.
AGAIN, that the Pleasures arising from Benevolence, and the moral Sense, are strictly
Selfish,
in this Sense of the Word, like every other Enjoyment, seems evident from some parallel Concessions of the noble Writer. For these seemingly disinterested Pleasures he perpetually sets on a Level with the Perceptions of natural Beauty, Order, Harmony, and Proportion. These last are, by all, acknowledged to be of the selfish Kind; therefore the other are so too; being only a
higher Order of the same,
and expresly called so by the noble Writer
Moralists,
Part ii.
.
THE Reasons why the great universal Principle of
private Happiness
hath not been so clearly seen in the
Benevolent,
as in the
Self-Passions,
seem to be these. First, Ambiguous Expressions, such as have been remarked above. 2
dly,
Perhaps some Degree of
Pride,
and Affectation of
Merit;
because
Merit
seems to appear in what is called
Disinterest.
3
dly,
And perhaps principally, because in the Exercise of the benevolent Passions, the Happiness is essentially
concomitant
with the Passion itself, and therefore is not easily separated from it by the
Imagination,
so as to be considered as a
distinct End.
Whereas in the Passions called
Selfish,
the Happiness sought after is often
unattainable,
and therefore easily and necessarily distinguished by the Imagination as a
positive End.
This Circumstance of Union however, as is judiciously remarked by one of the noble Writer's Followers
Three Treatises, by
J. H.
Treat. 3d .
On Happiness,
p. 189.
, proves the great Superiority and Excellence of the benevolent Affections, considered as a Source of Happiness, beyond the Passions and Appetites, commonly called the
Selfish.
BUT although these Observations be necessary, in order to clear up an Affair, which hath been much perplexed with philosophical, or
unphilosophical
Refinements; yet, on a closer Examination, it will appear, in the most direct Manner, from the noble Writer himself, that
"there is no other Principle of human Action, but that of the
immediate
or
foreseen
Happiness of the Agent:"
That all these amusing Speculations concerning the
Comely, Fit,
and
Decent;
all these
verbal
Separations between
Pleasure, Interest, Beauty,
and
Good,
might have been sunk in one
precise
and plain Disquisition, concerning such Actions and Affections as yield a
lasting,
and such as afford only a
short
and transient
Happiness.
For thus, after all, his Lordship explains himself:
"That
Happiness
is to be pursued, and, in Fact, is always sought after; that the Question is not, who
loves himself,
and who
not;
but who
loves
and
serves himself
the
righest,
and after the
truest
Manner.—That 'tis the Height of
Wisdom,
no doubt, to be
rightly Selfish
"—"Even to leave Family, Friends, Country, and Society—in good Earnest,
who would not,
if it were
Happiness
to do so
Wit and Hum.
Part iii. § 3.
?"
THESE Expressions are so strongly pointed, as to leave no further Doubt concerning the noble Writer's Sentiments on this Subject. Indeed, they are the natural Dictates of common Sense, unsophisticated with false Philosophy. In every subsequent Debate therefore, wherein his Lordship's Opinions are concerned, we may safely build on this as an acknowledged and sure Foundation,
"that the Motives or natural Obligations of Man to the Practice of Virtue, can only arise from a Sense of his
present,
or a Prospect of his
future Happiness.
"
SECTION VII.
NOW this Conclusion will carry us to another Question of a very interesting and abstruse Nature: That is,
"How far, and upon what Foundation, the uniform Practice of Virtue, is
really
and
clearly
connected with the Happiness of every Individual?"
For so far, as we have seen, and no further, can every Individual be naturally moved or obliged to the Practice of it.
THIS is evidently a Question of
Fact:
And as it relates to the
Happiness
of
Man,
can only be determined by appealing to his
Constitution.
If
this
be indeed
uniform
and
invariable;
that is, if every Individual hath the same Perceptions, Passions, and Desires; then indeed the Sources of Happiness must be
similar
and
unchangeable.
If, on the contrary, different Men be differently constituted; if they have
different
Perceptions, Passions, and Desires; then must the Sources of their Happiness be equally
various.
IT should seem therefore, that
"while Moralists have been enquiring into human Happiness, they have generally considered it, as arising from one
uniform
and
particular
Source, instead of tracing it up to those various Fountains whence it really springs; which are indefinitely various, combined, and indeterminable."
And this seems to have been the most general Foundation of Error.
IF we speak with Precision, there are but three Sources in Man, of Pleasure and Pain, Happiness and Misery: These are
Sense, Imagination,
and the
Passions.
Now the slightest Observation will convince us, that these are associated, separated and combined in Man, with a Variety almost infinite. In some, the Pleasures and Pains of
Sense
predominate; Imagination is dull; the Passions inactive. In others, a more delicate Frame awakens all the Powers of Imagination; the Passions are refined; the Senses disregarded. A third Constitution is carried away by the Strength of Passion: The Calls of Sense are contemned; and Imagination becomes no more than the necessary Instrument of some further Gratification.
From overlooking this plain Fact, seems to have arisen the Discordance among Philosophers concerning the Happiness of Man. And while
each
hath attempted to exhibit one favourite Picture, as the
Paragon
or
Standard
of human Kind; they have
all
omitted some Ten thousand other Resemblances which actually subsist in Nature.
THUS, most of the
Epicurean
Sect, tho' not the Founder of it, have discarded
Benevolence
and
Virtue
from their System of
private
Happiness. The modern Patronizers of this Scheme, Mr. HOBBES, Dr. MANDEVILLE, and several
French
Writers, after heaping up a Collection of sordid Instances, which prove the
sensual
Inclinations and
Selfishness
of Man, leap at once to their desired Conclusion, that the pretended public Affections are therefore no more than the same low Passions in Disguise. That
Benevolence
makes no Part of Man's Nature; that the human Kind are absolutely unconnected with each other in Point of Affection: And that every Individual
seeks
and
finds
his
private
Happiness in and
from himself alone.
THE noble Writer, on the contrary, viewing the brighter Parts of human Nature, through the amiable Medium of the
Socratic
Philosophy; and fixing his Attention on the
public Affections,
as the Instruments both of public and private Happiness; rejects the
Epicurean's
Pretences with Disdain: And fully conscious of the high Claims and Energy of Virtue, affirms that the
private Affections
are, by no means, a Foundation for
private Happiness:
That, on the contrary, we must universally promote the Welfare of others, if we would effectually secure our own: And that in every Case,
"
Virtue
is the
Good,
and
Vice
the
Ill
of every one
Enquiry concerning Virtue,
passim.
."
'TIS plain, no two Systems of Philosophy can be more
discordant
than these; yet each of them have obtained a Number of Partizans in all Ages of the World. The Question relates to a
Fact,
and the Fact lies open to the
personal Examination
of all Mankind. Whence then can so strange an Opposition of Sentiments arise?
THIS seems to have arisen, not from a
false,
but a
partial
View and Examination of the Subject. The
Stoic
Party dwell altogether on the
social
or
public,
the
Epicurean
no less on the
private
or
selfish
Affections: On these respectively they declaim; so that according to the one, Mankind are naturally a Race of
Demi-Gods;
according to the other, a Crew of
Devils. Both
forgetting, what is unquestionably the Truth, that these
social
and
private
Affections are blended in an endless Variety of Degrees, and thus form an infinite Variety of Inclinations and of Characters. Many of the particular Facts, therefore, which these two Sects alledge, are true: But the
general
Consequence they draw from these
particular
Facts, is groundless and imaginary. Thus, 'tis true, that Mankind reap high Enjoyments from the Senses, Imagination, and Passions, without any regard to the public Affections: But the Consequence which the
Epicurean
would draw from hence, that
"therefore the public Affections are never, in any Case, a Source of private Happiness;"
this is entirely void of Evidence: It supposeth Mankind to be
one uniform
Subject, while it is a Subject infinitely
various;
that every Individual has the same Feelings, Appetites, Fancies, and Affections, while, in Fact, they are mixed and combined in an endless Variety of Degrees. So, on the contrary, it must appear to every impartial Observer, that
"the Exercise of the public Affections is a Source of the highest Gratification to many Individuals."
But the
Stoic's
Conclusion, that
"therefore the uniform Exercise of the public Affections, in Preference to every other, is the only Source of Happiness to every Individual;"
this is a Conclusion equally void of Evidence. For, like its opposite Extreme, it supposeth Mankind to be one uniform Subject, while, in Fact, it is a Subject indefinitely various. It supposes that every Individual has the same Feelings, Appetites, Fancies, and Affections, while, in Reality, they are mixed and combined in an endless Variety of Degrees.
LET us now assign the most probable Foundation, on which these
narrow
and
partial
Systems have been so commonly embraced. For, that two Theories so opposite, and so devoid of all rational Support, should have made their Way in the World, without some
permanent
Cause beyond the Instability of mere
Chance,
seems hardly credible.
IT should seem therefore, that
"while the Patronizers of these two Systems have attempted to give a general Picture of the human Species, they have all along taken the Copy from themselves: And thus their Philosophy, instead of being a true History of Nature, is no more than the
History of their own
Imaginations
or
Affections.
"
—This Truth may receive sufficient Confirmation from the Lives and Conduct of all the old Philosophers, from the
elegant
PLATO walking on his rich
Carpets,
to the
unbred
CYNIC snarling in his
Tub.
As every Man's
Constitution
led him, so he adopted this or that Sect of
Philosophy,
and reasoned concerning
Fitness, Decency,
and
Good.
Read the Characters of CATO and CESAR, and you will clearly discover the true Foundation on which the one became a rigid
Stoic,
the other, a gross
Epicurean.
The first, yet a
Boy,
discovered such an
inflexible
Adherence to the Privileges of his Country, that he refused his Assent to what he thought a Violation of them, though threatened with immediate Death
Plutarchi
Cato Utic.
. The
latter,
yet unpractised in the Subtilties of Philosophy, and under the sole Dominion of natural Temper, discovered, at his first Appearance in the World, such Traits of
Art, Spirit,
and
Ambition,
that SYLLA declared, he saw something more formidable than MARIUS rising in him
Suetonii
Julius Cesar.
. To bring down the Observation to modern Times; 'tis evident, that the Patronizers of these two Systems inlist themselves according to the secret Suggestions of their several Passions. 'Tis well known, that the Writer of the
Fable of the Bees
was neither a
Saint
in his Life, nor a
Hermit
in his Diet: He seems to have been Master of a very considerable
Sagacity,
much Knowledge of the World, as it appears in populous
Cities,
extremely sensible to all the grosser
bodily
Enjoyments; but for
Delicacy
of Sentiment, Imagination, or Passion, for an exquisite
Taste
either in
Arts
or
Morals,
he appears to have been
incapable
of it.—The noble Writer is known to have been of a Frame the very Reverse of this: His
Constitution
was neither more nor less opposite to Dr. MANDEVILLE's, than his Philosophy. His sensual Appetites were weak; his Imagination all alive, noble, and capacious; his Passions were accordingly refined, and his public Affections (in
Fancy
at least) predominant. To these Instances, a moderate Share of Sagacity and Knowledge of the World may add others innumerable, in observing the Temper and Conduct of the Followers os these two Systems; who always take Party according to the Biass of their own Constitution. Among the
Epicureans
we ever find Men of high Health, florid Complexions, firm Nerves, and a Capacity for Pleasure: Of the
Stoic
Party are the delicate or sickly Frames, Men incapable of the grosser sensual Enjoyments, and who either
are,
or
think
themselves
virtuous.
Now from these accumulated Proofs we may be convinced, that
"they who give us these
uniform
Pictures of a Subject so
various
as
Mankind,
cannot have drawn them from
Nature:
That, on the contrary, they have copied them from their own
Hearts
or
Imaginations;
and fondly erected
themselves
into a general Standard of the
human Species.
"
BUT although these Observations may afford sufficient Proof, that the
Stoic
and
Epicurean
Pictures of Mankind are equally partial; yet still it remains to be enquired how far, upon the whole, the human Kind in Reality leans towards the
one
or the
other:
That is,
"how far, and in what Degree, the uniform Practice of Virtue constitutes the Happiness of Individuals?"
Now the only Method of determining this Question, will be to select some of the most striking
Features
of the human Heart: By this Means we may
approach
towards a real
Likeness,
though from that infinite Variety which subsists in Nature, the
Draught
must ever be inadequate and
defective.
TO begin with the lowest Temperature of the human Species;
"there are great Numbers of Mankind, in whom the
Senses
are the chief Sources of Pleasure and Pain."
To the Harmony of Sounds, the Beauty of Forms, the Decorum of Actions, they are utterly insensible. They are sagacious and learned in all the Gratifications of Sense; but if you talk to them of the public Affections, of Generosity, Kindness, Friendship, Good-will, you talk in a Language they understand not. They seem, in a Manner, unconnected with the rest of their Kind; they view the Praises, Censures, Enjoyments and Sufferings of others, with an Eye of perfect Indifference. To Men thus formed, how can Virtue gain Admittance? Do you appeal to their
Taste
of Beauty? They have none. To their acknowledged Perceptions of
Right
and
Wrong?
These they Measure by their private
Interest.
To the Force of the public
Affections?
They never felt them. Thus every Avenue is foreclosed, by which
Virtue
should enter.
THE next remarkable Peculiarity is,
"where not the Senses, but
Imagination
is the predominant Source of Pleasure."
Here the Taste always runs into the elegant Refinements of polite Arts and Acquirements; of Painting, Music, Architecture, Poetry, Sculpture: Or, in Defect of this truer Taste, on the false Delicacies of Dress, Furniture, and Equipage. Yet Experience tells us, that this Character is widely different from the virtuous one: That all the Powers of Imagination may subsist in their full Energy, while the
public Affections
and
moral Sense
are weak or utterly inactive. Nor can there be any necessary Connexion between these different Feelings; because we see Numbers immersed in all the finer Pleasures of Imagination, who never once consider them as the Means of
giving Pleasure
to
others,
but merely as a
selfish
Gratification. This the noble Writer seems to have been aware of; and, not without great Address, endeavours to convert the Fact into a Proof of his main Theory, though, in Reality, it affords the strongest Evidence against him.
"The
Venustum,
the
Honestum,
the
Decorum
of Things, will sorce its Way. They, who refuse to give it Scope in the nobler Subjects of a rational and moral Kind, will find its Prevalency elsewhere, in an inferior Order of Things—as either in the Study of common
Arts,
or in the Care and Culture of mere mechanic
Beauties.
—The
Specter
still will
haunt
us, in
some Shape or other;
and when driven from our cool Thoughts, and frighted from the
Closet,
will meet us even at Court, and fill our Heads with Dreams of Grandeur, Titles, Honours, and a false Magnificence and Beauty
Wit and Hum.
Part iv. § 2.
."
All this is ingenious and plausible: And the very elegant Allusion, of
"the Specter still haunting us in some Shape or other,"
seems at first View to imply, that even the most obstinate Endeavours to get rid of the Force of moral Beauty, are ineffectual and vain. But a nearer Examination will convince us, that the noble Writer applies here to
Eloquence,
rather than
Argument;
and puts us off with a
Metaphor
instead of a
Reason.
For the Pleasures of Imagination, whether they run in the Channel of polite Arts, Furniture, Planting, Building, or Equipage, are indeed no
Specters,
but independent
Realities
sairly existing in the Mind: They have no immediate or necessary Connexion with the Happiness of Mankind, which is often and
designedly
violated in order to gain the Possession of them. 'Tis true, the Pleasures of Imagination and Virtue are often
united
in the same Mind; but 'tis equally true, that they are often
separate;
that they who are most sensible to the
one,
are entire Strangers to the
other;
that one Man, to
purchase
a fine
Picture,
will
oppress
his Tenant; that another, to
relieve
his distressed Tenant, will
sell
his Statues or his Pictures. The Reason is evident: The one draws his Pleasure from
Imagination;
the other from
Affection
only. 'Tis clear therefore, that
"where
Imagination
is naturally the predominant Source of Pleasure,"
the Motives to Virtue must be very
partial
and
weak,
since the chief Happiness ariseth from a Source entirely distinct from the
benevolent Affections.
ANOTHER, and very different Temperature of the Heart of Man is that
"wherein neither Sense nor Imagination, but the PASSIONS are the chief Sources of Pleasure and Pain."
This often forms the
best
or the
worst
of Characters. As it runs either, First, Into the Extreme of Selfishness, Jealousy, Pride, Hatred, Envy, and Revenge; or, 2
dly,
Into the amiable Affections of Hope, Faith, Candour, Pity, Generosity, and Good-will; or, 3
dly,
Into a various Mixture or Combination of these; which is undoubtedly the most common Temperature of human Kind.
NOW to the first of these Tempers, how can we affirm with Truth, that there is a natural Motive or Obligation to Virtue? On the contrary, it should seem, that, if there be any Motive, it must be to
Vice.
For 'tis plain, that from the Losses, Disappointments, and Miseries of Mankind, such vile Tempers draw their chief Felicity. The noble Writer indeed, in his Zeal for Virtue, considers these black Passions as
unnatural,
and brands them as a Source of
constant Misery
Enquiry.
. And sure it would be matter of Joy to all good Men, to find his Proofs convincing. But if indeed this be not a true Representation of the Case, I see not what Service can be done to the Interests of
Virtue,
by
disguising
Truth. 'Tis not the Part of a Philosopher to write
Panegyrics,
but to
investigate
the real State of human Nature; and the only Way of doing this to any good Purpose, is to do it
impartially:
For with regard to human Nature, as well as Individuals,
"Flattery is a Crime no less than Slander."
WHEN therefore the noble Writer calls these Affections
unnatural,
he doth not sufficiently explain himself. If indeed by their being unnatural, he means, that
"they are such in their Degrees or Objects as to violate the public Happiness, which is the main Intention of Nature;"
in this Sense, 'tis acknowledged, they are
unnatural.
But this Interpretation is foreign to the Question; because it affects not the
Individual.
But if, by their being
unnatural,
he would imply, that they are
"a Source of constant Misery to the Agent;"
this seems a Proposition not easy to be determined in the Affirmative.
FOR the main Proof which he brings in Support of this Assertion is,
"that the Men of
gentlest Dispositions,
and
best of Tempers,
have at some time or other been sufficiently acquainted with those Disturbances, which, at ill Hours, even small Occasions are apt to raise. From these slender Experiences of Harshness and ill Humour, they fully know and will confess the ill Moments which are passed, when the Temper is ever so little galled and fretted. How must it fare therefore with those, who hardly know any better Hours in Life; and who, for the greatest Part of it, are agitated by a thorow
active Spleen,
a close and settled Malignity and Rancour
Enquiry,
B. ii. Part ii. § 3.
?"
NOW, this Instance is by no means sufficient to support the Affirmation. For 'tis plain, that in the Case of the
"Men of gentlest Dispositions, and best of Tempers, occasionally agitated by ill Humour,"
there must be a strong Opposition and Discordance, a violent Conflict between the habitual Affections of Benevolence, and these accidental Eruptions of Spleen and Rancour which rise to obstruct their Course. A Warfare of this Kind must indeed be a State of complete Misery, when all is Uproar within, and the distracted Heart set at Variance with itself. But the Case is widely different, where
"a thorow active Spleen prevails, a close and
settled
Malignity and Rancour."
For in this Temper, there is no parallel Opposition of contending Passions: Nor therefore any similar Foundation for inward Disquiet and intense Misery. So much the noble Writer himself is obliged to own elsewhere.
"Is there that sordid Creature on Earth, who does not prize his own Enjoyment?—Is not
Malice
and
Cruelty
of the
highest Relish
with some Natures
Moralists,
Part i.
?"
Again, and still more fully to the Purpose:
"Had we Sense, we should consider, 'tis in Reality the
thorow
Profligate, the very
complete unnatural Villain
alone, who can any way
bid
for
Happiness
with the honest Man. True Interest is wholly on the one Side or the other. All between is Inconsistency, Irresolution, Remorse, Vexation, and an Ague-fit
Wit and Hum.
Part iv. § 1.
."
Neither is this Acknowledgment peculiar to himself:
"To be
consistent
either in Virtue or in Vice,"
was the farthest that some of the most penetrating among the Ancients could carry the Point of
Morals
See Arrian.
Epict.
lib. iii. c. 15.
. Thus where the
selfish
or
malevolent
Affections happen to prevail, there can be no internal
Motive,
or natural
Obligation
to
Virtue.
ON the contrary, where the amiable Affections of Hope, Candour, Generosity, and Benevolence predominate, in this best and happiest of Tempers, Virtue hath indeed all the Force and Energy, which the noble Writer attributes to her Charms. For where the Calls of Sense are weak, the Imagination active and refined, the public Affections predominant; there the
moral Sense
must naturally reign with uncontrouled Authority; must produce all that Self-Satisfaction, that Consciousness of merited Kindness and Esteem, in which, his Lordship affirms, the very Essence of our Obligation to Virtue doth consist. This shall with Pleasure be acknowledged, nay asserted, as
"the happiest of all Temperaments,"
whenever it can be
found
or
acquired.
To a Mind thus formed, Virtue doth indeed bring an
immediate
and
ample Reward
of perfect Peace and sincere Happiness in all the common Situations of Life. It may therefore be with Truth affirmed, that a Temper thus framed, is indeed naturally and internally obliged to the uniform Practice of Virtue.
THERE are, besides these, an endless Variety of Characters formed from the various Combinations of these essential
Ingredients;
which are not designed as a full
Expression
of all the Tempers of Mankind: They are the Materials only, out of which these Characters are formed. They are no more than the several Species of
simple Colours
laid, as it were, upon the
Pallet;
which, variously
combined
and associated by the Hand of an experienced Master, would indeed call forth every striking
Resemblance,
every changeful Feature of the
Heart
of
Man.
NOW, among all this infinite Variety of Tempers which is found in Nature, we see there cannot be any uniform Motive or Obligation to Virtue, save only
"where the Senses are weak, the Imagination refined, and the public Affections strongly predominant."
For in every other Character, where either the Senses, gross Imagination, or selfish Passions prevail, a natural Opposition or Discordance must arise, and destroy the uniform Motive to Virtue, by throwing the Happiness of the Agent into a different Channel. How seldom this sublime Temper is to be found, is hard to say: But this may be affirmed with Truth, that every Man is not
really
possessed of it in the Conduct of Life, who
enjoys
it in
Imagination,
or
admires
it in his Closet, as it lies in the
Enquiry
concerning Virtue.
A Character of this supreme Excellence must needs be
approved
by most: And the
Heart
of Man being an unexhausted Fountain of
Self-Deceit,
what it
approves,
is forward to think itself possessed of. Thus a lively
Imagination
and unperceived
Self-Love,
fetter the Heart in certain
ideal
Bonds of their own creating: Till at Length some turbulent and furious Passion arising in its Strength, breaks these fantastic Shackles which Fancy had imposed, and leaps to its Prey like a
Tyger
chained by
Cobwebs.
SECTION VIII.
FROM these different Views of human Nature, let us now bring this Argument to a Conclusion.
THE noble Writer's Scheme of Morals therefore, being grounded on a Supposition, which runs through the whole Course of his Argument, that
"all Mankind are naturally capable of attaining a
Taste
or
Relish
for
Virtue,
sufficient for every Purpose of social Life,"
seems essentially defective. For, from the Enquiry already made into the real and various Constitution of Man, it appears, that a great Part of the Species are naturally incapable of this
fancied
Excellence. That the various Mixture and Predominancy of
Sense, Imagination,
and
Passion,
give a different Cast and Complexion of Mind to every Individual: That the
Feeling
or
Prospect
of Happiness can only arise from this Combination: That consequently, where the benevolent Affections and moral Sense are weak, the selfish Passions and Perceptions headstrong, there can be no internal Motive or natural Obligation to the
consistent
Practice of Virtue.
THE most plausible Pretence I could ever meet with, amidst all the Pomp of Declamation thrown out in Support of this
All-Sufficiency
of a
Taste
in Morals, is this.
"That although the Force and Energy of this Taste for Virtue appears not in every Individual, yet the Power lies dormant in every human Breast; and needs only be called forth by a
voluntary Self-Discipline,
in order to be brought to its just Perfection. That the Improvement in our Taste in Morals is parallel to the Progress of the Mind in every other Art and Excellence, in
Painting, Music, Architecture,
Picture:
In which, a
true
Taste, however
natural
to Man, is not born with him, but formed and brought forth to Action by a proper
Study
and
Application.
"
THE noble Writer hath innumerable Passages of this Kind: So many indeed, that it were Labour lost to transcribe them
Charact.
passim.
. And one of his Followers hath affirmed in still more emphatical Expressions, if possible, than his Master, that
"the Height of
Virtuoso-ship
is VIRTUE
Letters of Hydaspes to Philemon,
Let. vi.
."
NOW this State of the Case, though at first View it carries some Degree of Plausibility, yet, on a closer Examination, destroys the whole System. For if, as it certainly is, the
Capacity
for a Taste in
Morals,
be similar to a
Capacity
for a Taste in
Arts;
'tis clear, that the most assiduous Culture or Self-Discipline can never make it even
general,
much less
universal.
One Man, we see, hath a Capacity or Genius for Painting, another for Music, a third for Architecture, a fourth for Poetry. Torture each of them as you please, you cannot infuse a Taste for any, but his own
congenial
Art. If you attempt to make the Poet an Architect, or the Painter a Musician, you may make a pretending
Pedant,
never an accomplished
Master.
'Tis the same in Morals: Where the benevolent Affections are naturally strong,
there
is a
Capacity
for a high
Taste
in Virtue: Where these are
weak
or
wanting,
there is in the same Proportion,
little
or
no Capacity
for a
Taste
in Virtue. To harangue, therefore, on the superior Happiness attending the Exercise of the public Affections, is quite foreign to the Purpose. This superior Happiness is allowed, where the public Affections can be
found
or
made
predominant. But how can any Consequence be drawn from hence, so as to influence those who never felt the Impulse of public Affection? Are not the Pleasures of Poetry, Painting, Music, sublime, pure, and lasting, to those who
taste
them? Doth it therefore follow, that all Mankind, or any of them, can be harangued into a
Taste
and
Love
of these elegant Arts, while the very Capacity of receiving Pleasure from them is
wanting?
Thus in Morals, where a similar Incapacity takes Place through the natural Want of a lively Benevolence, no Progress can ever be made in the
Taste
or
Relish
for virtuous Enjoyment. Though therefore you should prove, as indeed one of Lord SHAFTESBURY's Followers hath done,
"that Virtue is accommodate to all Places and Times, is
durable, self-derived,
and
indeprivable
Three Treat. by
J. H.
Treat. 3d .
On Happiness
,"
whence he concludes, it has the best Title to the Character of the sovereign Good; yet all the while, the main Point in Debate is taken for granted, that is,
"whether the Possession of it be any
Good
at all."
Now to those who receive no Increase of
internal
Happiness from it, it cannot be a
Good:
And where there is a natural
Defect
of benevolent Affection, it can give no
internal
Happiness: Consequently, though it have all the other Characters of the
Sumnium Bonum,
though it be
durable, self-derived,
and
indeprivable,
it can never, by such, be regarded as the
sovereign Good.
'TIS pleasant enough to observe the Argumentation of the Writer last mentioned. After describing
"the fairest and most amiable of Objects, the true and perfect Man, that Ornament of Humanity, that godlike Being, without Regard either to Pleasure or Pain, uninfluenced either by Prosperity or Adversity, superior to the World, and its best and worst Events"
—He then raiseth an Objection—
"Does not this System border a little upon the Chimerical?"
—On my Word, a shrewd Question, and well worth a good Answer; and thus he clears it up.—
"It seems to require, said I, a Perfection to which no Individual ever arrived. That very Transcendence, said he, is an Argument on its behalf. Were it of a Rank inferior, it would not be that Perfection which we seek. Would you have it, said I, beyond Nature? If you mean, replied he, beyond any particular or individual Nature, most undoubtedly I would
Three Treat. by
J. H.
Treat. 3d .
On Happiness,
p. 215.
."
'Tis not therefore to be wondered at, that this Gentleman, wrapped up in
Visions
of ideal Perfection, should express
"his Contempt of those superficial Censurers, who profess to refute what they want even Capacities to comprehend
Ibid. p. 108.
."
Doubtless he means those
groveling
Observers, who draw their Ideas of Mankind
"from particular or individual Natures,"
and have not yet risen to
"the
beatific Vision
Ibid.
of the perfect Man."
Indeed, the Gentleman frankly owns,
"that Practice too often
creeps,
where Theory can
soar
Three Treat. by
J. H.
Treat. 3d .
On Happiness,
p. 108.
."
And this I take to be a true Account of the Matter.
THUS, as according to these Moralists, the
Relish
or
Taste
for Virtue is similar to a Taste for Arts; so what is said of the Poet, the Painter, and Musician, may with equal Truth be said of the Man of Virtue—
Nascitur, non fit.
Hence it is evident, that the noble Writer's System, which supposeth all Men capable of this exalted Taste, is chimerical and groundless.
BUT even supposing all Men capable of this refined Taste in Morals, there would arise an unanswerable Objection against the Efficacy of this refined Theory. Though it were allowed, that all Mankind have the same delicate Perception of
moral,
as some few have of
natural
Beauty, yet the Parallel would by no means hold, that
"as the
Virtuoso
always pursues his Taste in Arts
consistently,
so the Man of
Virtue
must be equally
consistent
in
Action
and
Behaviour.
"
For the
Virtuoso
being only engaged in mere
Speculation,
hath no opposite Affections to counteract his Taste: He meets with no Obstructions in his Admiration of Beauty: His Enthusiasm takes its unbounded Flight, not retarded by any Impediments of a discordant Nature. But the Man of
Virtue
hath a different and more difficult Task to perform: He hath often a numerous Train of Passions, and these perhaps the most violent to oppose: He must labour through the surrounding Demands and Allurements of selfish Appetite: Must subdue the Sollicitations of every the most natural Affection, when it opposes the Dictates of a pure Benevolence. Hence even supposing the most refined Taste for Virtue common to all, it must ever be retarded in its Progress, often baffled and overthrown amidst the
Struggle
of contending
Passions.
THIS seems to be a full and sufficient Reply to all that can be urged in Support of this fantastic System from a View of
human Nature.
But as the noble Writer hath attempted to confirm his Theory by some collateral Arguments of another Kind, it may be proper here to consider their real Weight.
HE urges, therefore, the Probability at least, if not the certain Truth of his Hypothesis from hence,
"That it would be an Imputation on the Wisdom of the Deity to suppose that he had formed Man so imperfect, that the true Happiness of the Individual should not always coincide with that of the whole Kind
Enquiry.
."
And beyond Question, the Assertion is true: But the Consequence he draws from it,
"that therefore human Happiness must always consist in the immediate Feeling of virtuous Enjoyment,"
is utterly groundless. This Inference seems to have been drawn from a View of the
Brute
Creation; in which, we find,
Instincts
or
immediate Feelings
are the only Motives to Action; and in which, we find too, that these immediate Propensities are
sufficient
for all the Purposes of their Being. In this Constitution of Things the Creator's Wisdom is eminently displayed; because, through a Defect of
Reason
or
Reflexion,
no other kind of Principle could possibly have taken Place. But the Conclusion drawn from thence,
"that Man must have a similar Strength of Instinct implanted in him, in order to direct him to his supreme Happiness,"
this is without Foundation: Because the Deity hath given him not only
present
Perceptions, but
Reason, Reflexion,
and a
Foresight
of
future
Good and Evil, together with a sufficient Power to obtain the one, and avoid the other. As therefore Man hath sufficient Notices of the
moral Government
of GOD, which will at length produce a perfect Coincidence between the
virtuous
Conduct and the
Happiness
of every Individual, it implies no essential Defect of Wisdom in the Creator, to suppose that he hath not given this
universal
and
unerring
Biass towards Virtue to the whole human Species. Man is enabled to pursue and obtain his proper Happiness by
Reason;
Brutes by
Instinct.
AGAIN, the noble Writer often attempts to strengthen his Argument, by
"representing the
external Good
which naturally
flows
from
Virtue,
and the
external
Evils which naturally
attend
on Vice
Enquiry,
B. ii. P. i. § 3.
."
But sure this is rather deserting than confirming his
particular
Theory; which is, to prove that Happiness is
essential
to
Virtue,
and
inseparable
from it:
"That Misery is
essential
to
Vice,
and inseparable from it."
—Now, in bringing his Proofs from Happiness or Misery of the
external
Kind, he surely deserts his original Intention: Because these
Externals
are not
immediate,
but
consequential,
not
certain,
but
contingent:
They are precisely of the Nature of
Reward
and
Punishment;
and therefore can have no Part in the Question now before us; which relates solely to
"that Happiness or Misery arising from the inward State of the
Mind, Affections,
and
moral Sense,
on the Commission of Vice, or the Practice of
Virtue.
"
And this hath been already considered at large.
HOWEVER, that nothing may be omitted which can even remotely affect the Truth; we may observe, in passing, that after all the laboured and
well-meant
Declamation on this Subject, 'tis much easier to prove,
"that
Vice
is the Parent of
external
Misery, than that
Virtue
is the Parent of
external
Happiness."
'Tis plain, that no Man can be vicious in any considerable
Degree,
but he must suffer either in his
Health,
his
Fame,
or
Fortune.
Now the Generality of Moralists, after proving or illustrating this, have taken it for granted, as a certain Consequence, that the external Goods of Life are, by the Law of Contraries, in a similar Manner annexed to the Practice of Virtue. But in Reality the Proof can reach no further than to shew the happy Consequences of
Innocence,
which is a very different Thing from
Virtue;
for
Innocence
is only the
abstaining
from
Evil; Virtue,
the actual Production of
Good.
Now 'tis evident indeed, that by
abstaining
from
Evil
(that is, by
Innocence
) we
must
stand clear of the Miseries to which we expose ourselves by the
Commission
of it: And this is as far as the Argument will go. But if we rigorously examine the external Consequences of an
active
Virtue, in such a World as this; we shall find, it must be often maintained at the Expence both of
Health, Ease,
and
Fortune;
often the Loss of Friends, and Increase of Enemies; not to mention the unwearied Diligence of
Envy,
which is ever watchful and prepared to blast distinguished Merit. In the mean time, the
innoxious
Man sits unmolested and tranquil;
loves
Virtue, and
praiseth
it; avoids the
Miseries
of
Vice,
and the
Fatigues
of
active
Virtue; offends no Man, and therefore is beloved by all; and for the rest, makes it up by fair
Words
and civil Deportment.
"Thus
Innocence,
and not
Virtue; Abslinence
from
Evil,
not the
Production
of Good, is the furthest Point to which Mankind in general can be carried, from a Regard to the
external
Consequences of Action."
BUT whenever Appearances grow too strong against the noble Writer's System, he takes Refuge in an—
apage Vulgus!
—As he had before allowed, that
"the Vulgar may swallow any sordid Jest or Buffoonry,"
so here he frequently suggests, that among the same Ranks,
"any kind of sordid Pleasure will go down."
But
"as it must be a finer Kind of Wit that takes with the Men of Breeding,"
so in Morals
"the
Relish
or
Tasle
for Virtue, is what naturally prevails in the higher Stages of Life: That the
liberal
and
polished
Part of Mankind are disposed to treat every other Principle of Action as groundless and
imaginary:
But that among these, the
Taste
in Morals, if properly cultivated, must needs be sufficient for all the Purposes of Virtue
See Misc. 3d . c. 2. and many other detached Passages.
."
IN reply to this, which is perhaps the weakest Pretence of all that the noble Writer hath alledged, we need only observe, that those who are born to
Honours, Power,
and
Fortune,
come into the World with the same
various
Mixture and
Predominancy
of
Sense, Imagination,
and
Affections,
with the
lowest
Ranks of Mankind. So that if they really enjoy better Opportunities of being compleatly virtuous, these must arise not from their internal
Constitution,
but their external
Situation
in Life. Let us examine how far this may give a Biass either towards Vice or Virtue.
NOW 'tis plain that, with regard to the
Senses
or bodily
Appetites,
the Possession of Power and Fortune must be rather hurtful than favourable to Virtue. Wealth gives Opportunity of
Indulgence,
and Indulgence naturally
inflames.
Hence the Habits of
sensual
Inclination must in general be stronger in the
Lord
than the
Peasant:
Therefore, as nothing tends so much to imbrute the Man, and sink every nobler Affection of the Mind, as a servile Attendance on sensual Pleasure; so in this Regard, the Possession of Power and Fortune is rather
dangerous
than savourable to Virtue.
THE same may be affirmed in respect to the
Passions
or
Affections.
Can any thing tend so much to render any Passion ungovernable, as to know that we
need not
govern it? That our Power, Riches, and Authority, raise us
above Controul?
That we can hate, oppress, revenge, with
Impunity?
Are not the
Great,
of all others, most obnoxious to
Flattery?
Does not this tend to produce and nourish an
overweening
Opinion of
themselves,
an unjust
Contempt
of
others?
And is not
true Virtue
more likely to be
lost
than improved, amidst all these surrounding Temptations?
THE
Imagination
indeed is often refined, and
Reason
improved, in the higher Ranks of Life, beyond the Reach of the
mere Vulgar.
But they are little acquainted with human Nature, who think that
Reason
and
Imagination,
among the Bulk of Mankind, are any thing more than the
Ministers
of the
ruling Appetites
and
Passions:
Especially where the Appetites and Passions are inflamed by the
early
and
habitual
Possession of Honours, Power, and Riches.
BUT still it will be urged, that the
Great
are under the Dominion of a powerful Principle, which is almost unknown among the
Vulgar:
—The Principle of HONOUR—which is a perfect
Balance
against all these surrounding Difficulties, and a full
Security
to
Virtue.
WITH regard to this
boasted
Principle, a very material Distinction must be made. By
Honour,
is sometimes meant
"an Affection of Mind determining the Agent to the Practice of what is right, without any Dependence on other Men's Opinions."
Now this is but the
moral Sense,
under a new Appellation: It ariseth too, not from any particular
Situation
of Life, but from the natural
Constitution
of the Mind. Accordingly, it is not confined to any one Rank of Men, but is seen promiscuously among the
Great
and
Vulgar.
'Tis therefore entirely beyond the present Question, which only relates to such Circumstances as are peculiar to
high Life.
THE other, and more common Acceptation of the Word
Honour,
and in which alone it belongs peculiarly to the
Great,
is
"an Affection of the Mind determining the Agent to such a Conduct, as may gain him the
Applause
or
Esteem
of those whose good Opinion he is fond of."
Now this Love of
Fame,
and Fear of
Disgrace,
though, as a
secondary
Motive to Action, it be often of the highest Consequence in Life; though it often
counterfeits,
sometimes even
rivals
Benevolence itself; yet as a
principal
Motive, there cannot be a more
precarious
Foundation of Virtue. For the
Effects
of this Principle will always depend on the
Opinions
of others: It will always take its particular Complexion from
these,
and must always
vary
with them. Thus 'tis a Matter of mere
Accident,
whether its Consequences be
good
or
bad, wholesome
or
pernicious.
If the
applanded Maxims
be founded in
Benevolence,
the Principle will so far lead to
Virtue:
If they be founded in
Pride, Folly,
or
Contempt,
the Principle will lead to
Vice.
And, without any designed Satire on the
Great,
it must be owned, the latter of these hath ever been the
predominant
Character of
Honour.
It were false indeed to affirm, that the Principle hath no Mixture of
benevolent
Intention; yet 'tis equally clear, that its
chief
Design is not so much to secure the
Happiness
of
all,
as to maintain the
Superiority
of a
few:
And hence this Principle hath ever led its Votaries to abhor the Commission, not so much of what is
unjust,
as of what is
contemptible.
Thus it is clear, that the Principle of
Honour,
as distinguished from
benevolent
Affection and the
moral Sense,
can never be a sufficient Foundation for the
uniform
Practice of
Virtue.
THESE are the main Arguments by which the noble Writer hath attempted to support this imagined
All-sufficiency
of the
Relish
or
Taste
in
Morals.
Had human Nature been indeed that
uniform
and
noble
Thing, which he seems to have
thought
it, he had surely been right in fixing the
Obligations
of
Man
to
Virtue,
on so generous and amiable a Principle. But as on Examination it appears, that he hath all along supposed this human Nature to be
what it is not,
his System is
visionary
and
groundless;
and his applauded Theory only fit to find a Place with the boasted Power of the great old
Geometer,
when he said—
Give me but a
Place
to set my Foot on, and I will move the whole Earth.
.
MOST full indeed and clear to this purpose are the Words of the noble Writer himself: Who, in his
miscellaneous
Capacity, and in a
merry
Mood, seems to have spoken more of Truth, than I believe he would care to stand to.—
"Such has been of late our dry Task. No wonder if it carries, indeed, a
meagre
and
raw
Appearance. It may be looked on in Philosophy, as worse than a mere
Egyptian
Imposition. For to make Brick without Straw or Stubble, is perhaps an easier Labour, than to prove Morals without a World, and establish a Conduct of Life, without the Supposition of any thing living or extant besides our
immediate Fancy,
and World of
Imagination
Misc. iv. c. 2.
."
THESE Sallies might possibly have seemed difficult to account for, had not the noble Writer himself saved us the Labour of this Task. For he elsewhere tells us, that
"all sound
Love
and Admiration is ENTHUSIASM: The Transports of Poets, Orators, Musicians, Virtuosi; the Spirit of Travellers and Adventurers; Gallantry, War, Heroism; all, all Enthusiasm! 'Tis enough: I am content to be this new ENTHUSIAST
Moralists,
sub sin.
."
—And thus in another Place he describes the Effects of this high Passion: That
"
Enthusiasm
is wonderfully powerful and extensive:—For when the Mind is
taken up in Vision,
—its Horror, Delight, Confusion, Fear,
Admiration,
or
whatever Passion
belongs to it, or is uppermost on this Occasion, will have something
vast,
immane,
and, as Painters say, BEYOND LIFE. And this is what gave Occasion to the Name of
Fanaticism,
as it was used by the Ancients in its original Sense, for
an
APPARITION
transporting the
MIND
Letter on Enthusiasm.
."
SECTION IX.
HAVING sufficiently evinced the
flimzy,
though curious, Contexture of these
Cobweb
Speculations
spun
in the
Closet,
let us now venture abroad into the World; let us proceed to something applicable to Life and Manners; and consider what are the real Motives, by which Mankind may be sway'd to the
uniform
Practice of
Virtue.
AND first, in Minds of a
gentle
and
generous
Disposition, where the sensual Appetites are weak, the Imagination refined, and the benevolent Affections naturally predominant; these very Affections, and the
moral Sense
arising from them, will in all the common Occurrences of Life secure the Practice of Virtue. To these fine Tempers thus happily formed, the inward Satisfaction of a virtuous Conduct exceeds that of every outward Acquisition; and affords to its Possessor a more true and lasting Happiness, than Wealth, or Fame, or Power can bestow.
SECONDLY, Where the same Degrees of public Affection subsist, but stand opposed by sensual or selfish Passions of equal Violence, even here the Agent may rise to very high Degrees of Virtue, but not without the Aids of
Discipline
and
Culture.
Yet 'tis observable, that the Virtues of such a Temper are rather
conspicuous
than
consistent:
Without some strengthening Assistance, the Progress of the Mind towards Perfection is often broke by the Sallies of disordered Passion.
THERE is yet another Character, essentially different from these, but seldom distinguished, because generally taken for the
first.
Many esteem themselves, and are esteemed by others, as having arrived at the most
consummate Virtue,
whose Conduct never merits a higher Name than that of being
innoxious.
This is generally the Case of those who love
Retreat
and
Contemplation,
of those whose Passions are naturally
weak,
or carefully
guarded
by what the World calls
Prudence.
Now, as in the last mentioned Character, a
Curb
from
Irregularity
was requisite, so here a
Spur
to
Action
is equally necessary for the Support and Security of Virtue.
AS we descend through more common and inferior Characters, the internal Motives to virtuous Action grow less and less effectual.
Weak
or
no
Benevolence, a moral Sense proportionably
dull,
strong sensual
Appetites,
a clamorous Train of
selfish
Affections, these mixed and varied in endless Combinations, form the real Character of the
Bulk
of Mankind: Not only in
Cottages,
but in
Cities, Churches, Camps,
and
Courts.
So that some stronger Ties, some Motives more efficacious are necessary, not only for the Perfection of
Virtue,
but the Welfare, nay, the very Being of
Society.
'TIS not denied, nay, 'tis meant and insisted on, that among all these various Characters and Tempers, the Culture of the benevolent Affections ought to be assiduously regarded. For though we have seen that the Design of introducing an universal high
Relish
or
Taste
for Virtue be
visionary
and
vain,
yet still a lower, or a lower Degree may
possibly
be instilled. We have only attempted to prove, that the Capacity for this high Taste in Morals is not universally or essentially interwoven with the human Frame, but dispensed in various Degrees, in the same Manner as the Capacity for a Taste in
inferior
Beauties, in
Architecture, Painting, Poetry,
and
Music.
TO remedy this
Defect
of
unerring
Instinct in Man, by which he becomes a Creature so much less consistent than the Brute Kinds, Providence hath afforded him not only a Sense of
present,
but a Foresight of
future Good
and
Evil.
HENCE the Force of human Laws, which being established by common Consent, for the Good of all, endeavour, so far as their Power can reach, by the Infliction of Punishment on Offenders, to establish the general Happiness of Society, by making the
acknowledged Interest
of every
Individual
to coincide and unite with the
public
Welsare.
BUT as human Laws cannot reach the
Heart
of Man; as they can only inflict
Punishment
on Offenders, but cannot bestow
Rewards
on the Obedient; as there are many Duties of
imperfect
Obligation which they cannot recognize; as
Force
will sometimes
defy,
and
Cunning
often
elude
their Power; so without some further Aids, some Motives to Action more
universally
interesting, Virtue must still be left betrayed and deserted.
Now as it is clear from the Course of these Observations, that nothing can work this great Effect, but what can produce
"an entire and universal Coincidence between private and public Happiness;"
so is it equally evident, that nothing can effectually convince Mankind, that their own Happiness universally depends on
procuring,
or at least
not violating
the Happiness of others, save only
"the lively and active Belief of an all-seeing and all-powerful GOD, who will hereafter make them happy or miserable, according as they designedly promote or violate the Happiness of their Fellow-Creatures."
And this is the
Essence
of RELIGION.
THIS, at first View, should seem a Motive or Principle of Action, sufficient for all the Purposes of Happiness and Virtue. Indeed the Bulk of Mankind seem agreed in this Truth. Yet refining Tempers, who love to quit the common Tracks of Opinion, have been bold enough to call even this in Question. Among these, the noble Writer hath been one of the most diligent: It will therefore be necessary to consider the Weight of his Objections.
TO prevent Misinterpretation, it may be proper to observe, that Lord SHAFTESBURY sometimes talks in earnest of the
Nobleness
and
Dignity
of
Religion.
But when he explains himself, it appears, he confines his Idea of it to that Part which consists solely in Gratitude to, and Adoration of the supreme Being, without any Prospect of future Happiness or Misery. Now, though indeed this be the noblest Part, yet it is beyond the Reach of all, save only those who are capable of the most
exalted
Degrees of Virtue. His Theory of
Religion
therefore is precisely of a Piece, with his Theory of the
moral Sense;
not calculated for Use, but Admiration; and only existing in the Place where they had their Birth; that is, as the noble Writer well expresseth it, in
a Mind taken up in Vision.
HE sometimes talks, or seems to talk, in earnest too, on the
Usefulness
of
Religion,
in the common Acceptation of the Word. With Regard to which 'tis only necessary to observe, that whatever he hath said on this Subject I readily assent to: But this is no Reason why it may not be necessary to obviate every thing he hath thrown out to the contrary, to prejudice common Readers against Religion, through the Vanity of being thought
Original.
To
invent
what is
just
or
useful,
is the Character of
Genius:
'Tis
Folly
only and
Impertinence
to broach
Absurdities.
FIRST, therefore, he often asserts, that
"the Hope of future Reward and Fear of future Punishment is utterly unworthy of the free Spirit of a Man, and only fit for those who are destitute of the very first Principles of common Honesty: He calls it
miserable, vile, mercenary:
And compares those who allow it any Weight, to
Monkies
under the Discipline of the Whip
Wit and Humour—Enquiry—&c.
."
IN Answer to these general Cavils (probably aimed principally at
Revelation
) which are only difficult to confute, as they are vague and fugitive, let it be observed, first; that whatever can be objected against
religious
Fear, holds good against the Fear of
human
Laws. They
both
threaten the Delinquent with the Infliction of Punishment, nor is the Fear of the one more unworthy, than of the other. Yet the noble Writer himself often speaks with the highest Respect of
Legislators,
of the Founders of
Society
and
Empire,
who, by the Establishment of wise and wholesome Laws, drew Mankind from their State of natural Barbarity, to that of cultivated Life and social Happiness: Unless indeed he supposes that ORPHEUS and the rest of them did their Business
literally
by
Taste
and a
Fiddle.
If therefore the just Fear of
human
Power might be inforced without insulting or violating the
Generosity
of our Nature, whence comes it, that a just Fear of the
Creator
should so miserably degrade the Species? The religious Principle holds forth the same Motive to Action, and only differs from the other, as the Evil it threatens is infinitely greater, and more lasting.
FURTHER: If we consider the religious Principle in its true Light, there is nothing in it either
mean, slavish,
or
unworthy.
To be in a
Fright
indeed, to live under the Suggestions of
perpetual Terror
(in which, the noble Writer would persuade us, the religious Principle consists) is far from an amiable Condition. But this belongs only to the
Superstitious
or the
Guilty.
The first of these are
salsely
religious; and to the last, I imagine the noble Writer's most zealous Admirers will acknowledge, it
ought
to belong. But to the rest of Mankind, the
religious
Principle or
Fear
of GOD is of a quite different Nature. It only implies a lively and habitual Belief, that we shall be hereafter miserable, if we disobey his Laws. Thus every wise Man, nay, every Man of common Understanding, hath a
like Fear
of every
possible Evil;
of the destructive Power of natural Agents, of
Fire, Water, Serpents, Poison:
Yet none of these Fears, more than the religious one, imply a State of
perpetual
Misery and Apprehension: None of them are inconsistent with the most generous Temper of Mind, or truest Courage. None of them imply more than a
rational Sense
of these several Kinds of Evil; and from that Sense,
a Determination to avoid them.
Thus the noble Writer himself, when it answers a different Purpose, acknowledges that
"a Man of Courage may be
cautious
without real Fear
Inquiry,
B. ii. Part ii. § 3.
."
Now the Word
Caution,
in its very Nature, implies a Sense of a Possibility of Evil, and from that Sense a Determination to avoid it: Which is the very Essence of the religious Principle or the
Fear
of GOD.
AND as to the other Branch of religious Principle,
"the Hope and Prospect of higher Degrees of future Happiness and Perfection:"
—What is there of
mean, slavish,
or
unworthy
in it? Are all Mankind to be blown up into the
Mock-majesty
of the
kingly
STOIC, seated on the Throne of
Arrogance,
and
lording
it in an
empty
Region of CHIMAERA's? Is not the Prospect of Happiness the great universal Hinge of human Action? Do not all the Powers of the Soul centre in this one Point? Doth not the noble Writer himself elsewhere acknowledge this
See above, Sect. VI. of this Essay.
? And that our Obligations to Virtue itself can only arise from this one Principle, that it gives us real Happiness? Why then should the Hope of a happy Immortality be branded as
base
and
slavish,
while the Consciousness or Prospect of a happy Life on Earth is regarded as a just and honourable Motive?
THE noble Writer indeed confesseth, that
"if by the Hope of Reward, be understood the Love and Desire (he ought to have said, the
Hope
) of
virtuous Enjoyment,
it is not derogatory to Virtue."
But that in every other Sense, the indulged Hope of Reward is not only mean and mercenary, but even
hurtful
to Virtue and common
Humanity:
"For in this religious Sort of Discipline, the Principle of
Self-Love,
which is
naturally so prevailing
in us
(indeed?)
being no way moderated or restrained, but rather improved and made stronger every Day, by the Exercise of the Passions in a Subject of more extended Self-Interest; there may be reason to apprehend lest the Temper of this kind should extend itself in general through all the Parts of Life."
THIS, to say the best of it, is the very
Phrenzy
of Virtue. Religion proposeth true Happiness as the End and Consequence of virtuous Action: This is granted. It proposeth it by such Motives as must influence Self-Love, and consequently hath given the best Means of procuring it. Yet, it seems, Self-Love being not restrained, but made stronger, will make Man kind miss of true Happiness. That is, by leading Self-Love into the Path of
true
Happiness, Religion will inevitably conduct it to
false;
by commanding us to
cherish
our
public
Affections, it will certainly
inflame
the
private
ones; by assuring us, that if we would be happy hereafter, we must be
virtuous
and
benevolent,
it will beyond Question render us
vile
and
void
of
Benevolence.
But this Mode of Reasoning is common with the noble Writer.
HOWEVER, at other Times his Lordship can descend to the Level of common Sense; and prosecute his Argument by Proofs diametrically opposite to what he here advanceth. For in proving the Obligations of Man to Virtue, after having modelled the inward State of the human Mind according to his own Imagination, he proceeds to consider the
Passions
which regard
ourselves,
and draws another, and indeed a stronger Proof from
these.
—He there proves
Inquiry,
B. ii. Part ii. § 3.
the Folly of a vicious Love of Life,
"because Life itself may often prove a Misfortune."
So of
Cowardice,
"because it often robs us of the Means of Safety."
—Excessive
Resentment,
"because the Gratification is no more than an Alleviation of a racking Pain."
—The Vice of Luxury
"creates a Nauseating, and Distaste, Diseases, and constant Craving."
He urges the same Objections against intemperate Pleasure of the amourous kind. He observes that Ambition is ever
"suspicious, jealous, captious, and uncapable of bearing the least Disappointment."
He then proceeds thro' a Variety of other Passions, proving them all to be the Sources of some internal or external Misery. Thus he awakens the same Passions of
Hope
and
Fear,
which, in a religious View, he so bitterly inveighs against. Thus he exhibits a Picture of future
Rewards
and
Punishments,
even of the most
selfish
Kind: He recommends the Conformity to Virtue, on the Score both of present and future
Advantage:
He
deters
his Reader from the Commission of Vice, by representing the Misery it will produce. And these too, such
Advantages
and such
Miseries,
as are entirely distinct from the mere Feeling of virtuous Affection or its contrary: From the Considerations of Safety, Alleviation of
bodily
Pain, the Avoidance of
Distaste,
and
Diseases.
Now doth not his own Cavil here recoil upon him?
"That in this Sort of Discipline, and by exhibiting such Motives as these, the Principle of Self-Love must be made stronger, by the Exercise of the Passions in a Subject of more extended Self-Interest: And so there may be Reason to apprehend, lest the Temper of this Kind should extend itself in general through all the Parts of Life."
Thus the Objection proves equally against both: In Reality, against neither. For, as we have seen, the
Sense
or
Prospect
of Happiness, is the only possible Motive to Action; and if we are taught to believe that
virtuous Affection
will produce
Happiness,
whether the expected Happiness lies in
this
Life, or
another,
it will
tend,
and
equally
tend, to produce
virtuous
Affection. The noble Writer, therefore, and his Admirers, might as well attempt to remove Mountains, as to prove that the
Hope
and Prospect of a happy Immortality, can justly be accounted more servile, mercenary, or
hurtful,
than the View of those transient and earthly Advantages, which his Lordship hath so rhetorically and honestly display'd, for the Interest and Security of
Virtue.
In Truth, they are precisely of the same Nature, and only differ in Time, Duration, and Degree. They are both established by our Creator for the same great End of Happiness. And what GOD hath thus
connected,
it were
absurd,
as well as
impious,
to attempt to
separate
Hence we may see the Weakness and Mistake of those
fulsely religious,
who fall into an
Extreme
directly
opposite
to this of the noble Writer; who are
scandalized
at our being determined to the Pursuit of Virtue through any Degree of Regard to its happy Consequences in this Life; which Regard they call
worldly, carnal, prophane.
For it is evident, that the religious Motive is precisely of the same Kind; only
stronger,
as the Happiness expected is
greater
and more
lasting.
While therefore we set the
proper
and
proportioned
Value upon each, it is impossible we can act irrationally, or offend that GOD who established
both.
This naturally leads to a further Observation, which shews the Danger, as well as Folly, of
groveling
in
Systems.
Virtue, we see, comes recommended and enforced on three Principles. It is attended with
natural
and immediate
Pleasure
or Advantage:—It is commanded by human
Laws:
—It is enjoined by
Religion.
—Yet the
Religionists
have often decry'd the first of these Sanctions: The
fanatical Moralists,
the
last:
And even the
second
hath not escaped the Madness of an
enthusiastic
Party; which however, never grew considerable enough in this Kingdom, to merit Consutation.
.
THERE is yet another Circumstance observable in human Nature, which still further proves, that the Hope of a happy Immortality hath no Tendency to produce selfish Affection, but its contrary. For let the
stoical
Tribe draw what Pictures they please of the human Species, this is an undoubted Truth,
"that
Hope
is the most universal Source of human
Happiness:
And that Man is never so sincerely and heartily
benevolent,
as when he is truly
happy
in himself."
Thus the high Consciousness of his being numbered among the Children of GOD, and that his Lot is among the Saints; that he is destined to an endless Progression of Happiness, and to rise from high to higher Degrees of Perfection, must needs inspire him with that Tranquillity and Joy, which will naturally diffuse itself in Acts of sincere Benevolence to all his Fellow-Creatures, whom he looks upon as his Companions in this Race of Glory. Thus will every noble Passion of the Soul be awakened into Action: While the joyless Infidel, possessed with the gloomy Dread of Annihilation, too naturally contracts his Affections as his Hopes of Happiness decrease; while he considers and despiseth himself, as no more than the Beasts that perish.
THE noble Writer indeed insinuates, that there is
"a certain Narrowness of Spirit, occasioned by this Regard to a future Life, peculiarly observable in the
devout
Persons and
Zealots
of almost every religious Persuasion
Enquiry,
B. i. Part iii. § 3.
."
In reply to which, 'tis only necessary to affirm, what may be affirmed with Truth, that with Regard to
devout
Persons the Insinuation is a
Falsehood.
It was prudently done indeed, to join the
Zealots
(or
Bigots
) in the same Sentence; because it is true, that
these,
being under the Dominion of
Superstition,
forget the true Nature and End of
Religion;
and are therefore scrupulously exact in the Observation of outward
Ceremonies,
while they neglect the superior and
essential
Matters of the Law, of
Justice, Benevolence,
and
Mercy.
AND as to the Notion of confining the Hope of future Reward to
"that of virtuous Enjoyment only:"
This is a
Refinement
parallel to the rest of the noble Writer's System; and, like all Refinements, contracts instead of enlarging our Views. 'Tis allowed indeed, that the Pleasures of Virtue are the highest we know of in our present State; and 'tis therefore commonly supposed, they may constitute our chief Felicity in another. But doth it hence follow, that no other Sources of Happiness may be dispensed, which as yet are utterly unknown to us? Can our narrow and partial Imaginations set Bounds to the Omnipotence of GOD? And may not our Creator vouchsafe us such Springs of yet untasted Bliss, as shall exceed even the known Joys of Virtue, as far as
these
exceed the Gratifications of Sense? Nay, if we consider, what is generally believed, that our Happiness will arise from an Addition of new and higher Faculties; that in the present Life, the Exercise of Virtue itself ariseth often from the
Imperfection
of our State; if we consider these Things, it should seem highly probable, that our future Happiness will consist in something quite beyond our present Comprehension: Will be
"such as Eye hath not seen, nor Ear heard, neither hath it entered into the Heart of Man to conceive."
SECTION X.
BUT beyond these Objections, the noble Writer hath more than once touched upon another, which merits a particular Consideration. For he affirms, that
"after all, 'tis not merely what we call
Principle,
but a
Taste,
which governs Men."
That
"even Conscience, such as is owing to religious Discipline, will make but a slight Figure, where this Taste is set amiss
Misc.
iii. c. 2.
."
THE Notion here advanced is not peculiar to himself. He seems to have drawn it from a much more considerable Writer, who hath endeavoured to support the same Proposition by a great Variety of Examples
BAYLE,
Pens. sur une
Comete.
. Several Authors of inferior Rank have borrowed the same Topic, for popular Declamation. Nay, one hath gone so far as to assert,
"that Man is so unaccountable a Creature, as to act most commonly against his Principle
Fable of the Bees.
."
THE Objection, indeed, carries an Appearance of Force: Yet on a near Examination it entirely vanisheth.
IT must be owned, that in most Countries, a considerable Part of what is called
Religion,
deserves no other Name than that of
Absurdity
made
sacred.
And it were strange indeed, should
Bigotry
and
false
Religion produce that Uprightness of Heart, that Perfection of Morals, which is the genuine Effect of
Truth.
IT must be owned, that with Regard to religious Principle, as well as moral Practice, every Man has the Power of being a
Hypocrite.
That Knaves, in order to be accounted
honest,
may appear
devout.
And we may reasonably suppose, if we consider the innumerable Artifices of Villainy, that the outward Profession of Religion becomes a frequent
Disguise
to an
atheistical
and
corrupted
Heart.
BUT though these Circumstances may sufficiently account for the Appearance in many particular Cases, yet, with Regard to the
general
Fact,
here
seems to lie the proper Solution of the Difficulty.
"That even where true Religion is known, professed, and in Speculation
assented
to, it is seldom so thoroughly
inculcated
as to become a Principle of Action."
We have seen that Imagination is the universal Instrument of human Action; that no Passion can be strongly excited in the Soul by mere Knowledge or Assent, till the Imagination hath formed to itself some kind of Picture or Representation of the Good or Evil apprehended
See above, Essay I. § 3.
. Now the Senses and their attendant Passions are continually urging their Demands, through the immediate Presence of their respective Objects: So that nothing but the
vivid Image
of some greater Good or Evil in Futurity can possibly resist and overbalance their Sollicitations. The
Idea
therefore of future Happiness and Misery must be strongly impressed on the Imagination, ere they can work their full Effects, because they are
distant
and
unseen:
But this
Habit
of
Reflexion
is seldom properly fixed by
Education;
and thus for want of a proper Impression,
"religious Principle is seldom
gained,
and therefore seldom operates."
BUT where a sincere and lively Impression takes Place; where the Mind is convinced of the Being of a GOD; that he
is,
and is a
Rewarder
of them that diligently seek him; where the
Imagination
hath gained a Habit of connecting this great Truth with every Thought, Word, and Action; there it may be justly affirmed, that Piety and Virtue cannot but
prevail.
To say, in a Case of this Nature, that Man will not act according to his Principle, is to contradict the full Evidence of known Facts. We see how true Mankind commonly are to their Principle of
Pride,
or mistaken Honour; how true to their Principle of
Avarice,
or mistaken Interest; how true to their Principle, of a Regard to
human
Laws. Why are they so? Because they have strongly and habitually connected these Principles in their Imagination with the Idea of their own Happiness. Therefore, whenever the religious Principle becomes in the same Manner habitually connected in the Imagination, with the Agent's Happiness; that is, whenever the religious Principle takes Place at all, it must needs become infinitely more powerful than any other; because the
Good
it promiseth, and the
Evil
it threatens, are infinitely greater and more lasting. Hence it appears, that the Corruption of Mankind, even where the purest Religion is
professed,
and in Theory
assented
to, doth not arise from the
Weakness
of religious Principle, but the
Want
of it.
AND indeed on other Occasions, and to serve different Purposes, the noble Writer and his Partisans can allow and give Examples of all that is here contended for. Nothing is so common among these Gentlemen, as to declaim against the terrible Effects of
priestly Power.
'Tis their favourite Topic, to represent Mankind as groaning under the Tyranny of the
sacred Order.
Now what does this Representation imply, but
"the Force of religious Principle improperly directed?"
If Mankind can be swayed by religious Hope and Fear, to resign their Passions and Interests to the
Artifice,
or Advantage of the
Priest,
why not to the
Benefit
of
Mankind?
'Tis only impressing a different Idea of
Duty:
The Motive to Action is in both Cases the same, and consequently must be of equal Efficacy. Thus if religious Principle were void of
Force,
the Priesthood must be void of
Power.
The Influence therefore of the Priesthood, however dishonestly applied, is a Demonstration of the Force of
religious Principle.
This therefore seems to be the Truth. Although, by timely and continued Culture, the religious Principle might be made more universally predominant; yet even as it is, though not so thoroughly inculcated as to become generally a consistent Principle of Action; in Fact it hath a frequent and
considerable,
though
partial
and imperfect Influence. None but the thoroughly Good and Bad act on continued or consistent Principles; all the intermediate Degrees of Good and Bad act at different Times on various and inconsistent Principles; that is, their
Imaginations
are by turns given up to
Impressions
of a
different,
or even
contrary
Nature. This explains the whole Mystery: For, hence it appears that the consistent or inconsistent Conduct of Men depends not on the Nature of their Principles, but on having their Principles, whatever they are,
counteracted
by opposite ones. Although therefore, through a Failure of timely Discipline, Numbers of Men appear to be of that capricious Temper as not to be steddy to any Principle, yet still the religious one will
mix
with the rest, and naturally
prevail
in its
Turn.
This is certainly a common Circumstance among the
looser
and more
inconsiderate
Ranks of Men; who, although by no Means uniformly swayed by the Precepts of Religion, are yet frequently struck with Horror at the Thought of Actions
peculiarly
vile, and deterred by the Apprehension of an all-seeing GOD from the Commission of Crimes
uncommonly atrocious.
HERE then lies the essential Difference between the Efficacy of
Taste,
and
religious
Principle: That the first, being a Feeling or Perception dispensed in various Degrees, and in very weak ones to the Bulk of Mankind, is incapable, even through the most assiduous Culture, of becoming an universal or consistent Motive to Virtue: But the religious Principle, arising from such Passions as are common to the whole Species, must, if properly inculcated,
universally
prevail.
'Tis evident therefore, that in the very first Dawns of Reason, religious Principles ought to be impressed on the Minds of Children; and this early Culture continued through the succeeding Stages of Life. But as the noble Writer hath strangely attempted to ridicule and dishonour Religion in every Shape; so here, he hath endeavoured to throw an Odium on this Method of religious Discipline, by representing it as the Enemy to true Morals and practical Philosophy, as it fetters the Mind with early Prejudices.
"Whatever Manner in Philosophy happens to bear the least Resemblance to that of
Catechism,
cannot, I am persuaded, of itself seem very inviting. Such a smart Way of questioning ourselves in our Youth, has made our Manhood more averse to the
expostulatory
Discipline: And though the metaphysical Points of our Belief, are by this Method with admirable Care and Caution instilled into tender Minds; yet the Manner of this
anticipating
Philosophy may make the After-work of Reason, and the inward Exercise of the Mind at a riper Age, proceed the more heavily, and with greater Reluctance.—'Tis hard, after having by so many pertinent Interrogatories and decisive Sentences, declared
who
and
what
we are; to come leisurely in another, to enquire concerning our
real Self
and
End,
the Judgment we are to make of
Interest,
and the Opinion we should have of
Advantage
and
Good:
Which is what must necessarily determine us in our
Conduct,
and prove the leading Principle of our Lives
Advice, &c.
Part iii. § 2.
."
IN reply to this
most philosophical
Paragraph, let it be observed; that it is not the Design of Religion to make
Sophists,
but
good Subjects
of Mankind. That Man being designed, not for
Speculation,
but
Action,
religious Principle is not to be instilled in a
philosophical,
but a
moral
View: Therefore with Regard to
Practice,
nothing can be more fit and rational than to impress acknowledged
Truths
at an Age when the
Recipient
is incapable of their
Demonstrations;
in the same Manner as we teach the
Mechanic
to
work
on
Geometric
Principles, while the Proofs are
unknown
to him.
BUT then, the
Prejudices of Education
—yes, these are the great
Stumbling-block
to a modern
Free-thinker:
It still runs in his Head, that all Mankind are born to dispute
de omni scibili
On all Subjects.
. Let therefore this
minute
Philosopher reflect, first, that a
Prejudice
doth not imply, as is generally supposed, the
Falsehood
of the Opinion instilled; but only that it is taken up and held without its proper
Evidence.
Thus a Child may be prejudiced in Favour of Truth, as well as Falsehood; and in him neither the one nor the other can properly be called more than an
Opinion.
Further: The human Mind cannot remain in a State of
Indifference,
with regard either to
Opinion
or
Practice:
'Tis of an
active
Nature; and, like a
fertile
Field, if by due Cultivation it be not made to produce good
Fruit,
will certainly spring up in
Tares
and
Thislles.
Impressions, Opinions,
Prejudices,
of one kind or other a Child will inevitably contract, from the Things and Persons that
surround
him: And if rational Habits and Opinions be not infused, in order to
anticipate
Absurdities; Absurdities will rise, and
anticipate
all rational Habits and Opinions. His
Reason
and his
Passions
will put themselves in
Action,
however untoward and inconsistent, in the same Manner as his
Limbs
will make an Effort towards progressive
Motion,
however awkward and absurd. The same Objection therefore that lies against instilling a
salutary Opinion,
will arise against
teaching
him to walk
erect:
For this, too, is a kind of
"
anticipating
Philosophy:"
And sure, a Child left to his own
Self-Discipline,
"till he could come
leisurely
to enquire concerning his
real Self
and
End,
"
would stand as fair a Chance to
grovel
in Absurdity, and bring
down
his Reason to the sordid
Level
of Appetite, as to
crawl
upon all
four,
and dabble in the
Dirt.
Thus the noble Writer's Ridicule would sweep away the whole System of Education along with the religious Principle: Not an Opinion or Inclination must be controuled, or so much as controverted;
"lest by this
anticipating
Philosophy, the Work of Reason, and the inward Exercise of the Mind, at a
riper
Age, should proceed the more heavily, and with greater Reluctance."
The Caprice of Insancy must rule us, till the very
Capacity
of Improvement should be
destroyed;
and we must turn
Savages,
in order to be made perfect in the
sovereign Philosophy!
'TIS no difficult Matter therefore to determine, whether a Child should be left to the Follies of his own
weak
Understanding and
nascent
Passions; be left to imbibe the Maxims of corrupt Times and Manners; Maxims which, setting aside all Regard to their speculative Truth or Falsehood, do lead to certain Misery; or, on the other hand, shall be happily conducted to embrace those religious Principles, which have had the Approbation of the best and wisest Men in every Age and Nation; and which are known and allowed to be the only Means of true Happiness to Individuals, Families, and States.
THIS therefore ought to be the early and principal Care of those who have the Tuition of Youth: And they will soon find the happy Effects of their Instruction. For as the Child's Understanding shall improve, what was at first instilled only as an
Opinion,
will by Degrees be embraced as
Truth:
Reason will then assume her just Empire; and the great, universal, religious Principle, a rational Obedience to the Will of GOD, will raise him to his utmost Capacity of moral Perfection; will be a wide and firm Foundation, on which the whole Fabric of Virtue may rise in its just Proportions; will
extend
and
govern
his
Benevolence
and
moral Sense;
will strengthen them, if weak; will confirm them, if strong; will supply their Want, if naturally defective: In fine, will direct all his
Passions
to their proper
Objects
and
Degrees;
and, as the great
Master-spring
of Action, at once
promote
and
regulate
every Movement of his
Heart.
IT must be owned, the noble Writer's Caution against this
"anticipating Philosophy"
hath of late been deeply imbibed. In Consequence of it, we have seen
religious Principle
declaimed against, ridiculed, lamented. The Effect of this hath been, an abandoned Degree of Villainy in one Class of Mankind; a lethargic Indifference towards Virtue or Vice in another; and in the third, which boast the Height of modern Virtue, we seldom see more than the first natural Efforts, the mere
Buddings
of Benevolence and Honour, which are too generally blasted ere they can ripen into
Action.
This Contempt of Religion hath always been a fatal
Omen
to
free
States. Nor, if we may credit Experience, can we entertain any just Hope, that this fantastic Scheme, this boasted
Relish
for Beauty and Virtue, can ever give Security to Empire, without the more solid Supports of religious Belief. For it is remarkable, that in the Decline of both the
Greek
and
Roman
States, after Religion had lost its Credit and Efficacy, this very
Taste,
this
sovereign Philophy
usurped its Place, and became the common Study and Amusement (as it is now among ourselves) both of the
Vile
and
Vulgar.
The Fact, with Regard to
Greece,
is sufficiently notorious; with Regard to
Rome,
it may seem to demand a Proof. And who would think, that QUINTILIAN in the following Passage was not describing our own Age and Nation?
"Nunc autem quae velut propria philosophiae asseruntur, passim tractamus
omnes:
Quis enim modo de JUSTO, AEQUO, AC BONO, non et VIR PESSIMUS loquitur
Quint. Proaemium.
?"—
What was formerly the Philosopher's Province only, is now invaded by all: We find every wicked and worthless Fellow, in these Days, haranguing on
VIRTUE, BEAUTY,
and
GOOD."
What this
Leprosy
of
false
Knowledge may end in, I am unwilling to say: But this may be said with Truth, because it is justified by Experience; that along with the Circumstance now remarked, every other
Symptom
is rising among us, that hath generally attended the dark and troubled
Evening
of a
Commonwealth.
DOUBTLESS, many will treat these Apprehensions with
Derision:
But this
Derision
is far from being an Evidence of their Falsehood. For no People ever fell a Sacrifice to themselves, till
lulled
and infatuated by their own Passions.
Blind Security
is an essential Characteristic of a People devoted to Destruction. The Fact is equally undeniable, whether it ariseth from the moral Appointment of Providence, or the Connexion of natural Causes. Though this is seen and acknowledged by those who are conversant with the History of Mankind; yet 'tis hard to convey this Evidence to those who seldom extend their Views beyond their own short Period of Existence; because they see the Prevalence of the
Cause
assigned, while yet the pretended
Consequence
appears not. But they who look back into ancient Time are convinced, that the
public
Effects of
Irreligion
have never been sudden or
immediate.
One Age is
falsely
polite,
irreligious,
and
vile;
the next is sunk in
Servitude
and
Wretchedness.
This is analogous to the Operation of other Causes. A Man may be intemperate for twenty Years, before he feels the Effects of Intemperance on his Constitution. The Sun and Moon raise the Tides; yet the Tides rise not to their Height, till a considerable Time after the Conjunction of these two Luminaries. We cannot therefore justly decide concerning the future
Effects
of Irreligion, from its present State. The
Examples
of former Times are a much better
Criterion:
And these are such, as ought to make every Man among us, that regards Posterity, tremble for his Posterity while he reads them.
FOR this is but too just an
Epitome
of the Story of Mankind. That TYRANNY and SUPERSTITION have ever gone Hand in Hand; mutually supporting and supported; taking their Progress, and fixing their Dominion over all the Kingdoms of the Earth; overwhelming it in one general Deluge, as the Waters cover the Sea. Here and there a happy Nation
emerges;
breathes for a while in the enlightened Region of KNOWLEDGE, RELIGION, VIRTUE, FREEDOM: Till in their appointed Time, IRRELIGION and LICENTIOUSNESS appear;
mine
the Foundations of the
Fabric,
and sink it in the general Abyss of IGNORANCE and OPPRESSION.
POSSIBLY the fatal Blow may yet be averted from us. 'Tis surely the Duty of every Man, in every Station, to contribute his Share, however
inconsiderable,
to this great End. This must be my Apology for opposing the noble Writer's fantastic System; which by exhibiting a false Picture of human Nature, is, in Reality an
Inlet
to
Vice,
while it seems most
favourable
to
Virtue:
And while it pretends to be drawn from the
Depths
of
Philosophy,
is, of all others,
most unphilosophical.
ESSAYS ON THE Characteristics, etc.
ESSAY III. On revealed RELIGION, and CHRISTIANITY.
SECTION I.
IN the Course of the preceding
Essay,
we have seen the noble Writer assuming the Character of the professed
Dogmatist,
the
Reasoner
in
Form.
In what remains to be considered, concerning
revealed Religion
and CHRISTIANITY, we shall find him chiefly affecting the
miscellaneous
Capacity; the Way of
Chat, Raillery, Innuendo,
or
Story-telling:
In a Word, that very Species of the present modish Composition, which he so contemptuously ridicules;
"where, as he tells us, Justness and Accuracy of Thought are set aside as too constraining; where Grounds and Foundations are of no Moment; and which hath properly neither
Top
nor
Bottom, Beginning
nor
End
See above,
Essay
i. § 2.
."
In this, however, his Lordship is not quite so much to blame as might be imagined. In his Critical Progress, he had treated this
dishabille
of Composition, as the Man in the Fable did his Pears; unconscious he should be ever afterwards reduced to diet on them himself. The Truth of the Matter is, that the broken Hints, the ambiguous Expression, and the Ludicro-serious of the gentle Essayist, perfectly secure him from the rough Handling of the Logical-Disputer.
INDEED the noble Author has a double Advantage from this
Cloud,
in which the
Graces
so frequently secure their Favourite. He not only eludes the Force of every Argument the Defenders of Christianity alledge in it's Support, but even pleads the Privilege of being ranked in the Number of
sincere
Christians. He takes frequent Occasions of expressing his Abhorrence of
idle Scepticks
and
wicked Unbelievers
in Religion: He declares himself of a more resigned Understanding, a ductile Faith, ready to be moulded into any Shape that his spiritual Superiors shall prescribe. At other Times, and in innumerable Places, he scatters such Insinuations against
Christianity,
and that too with all the Bitterness of
Sarcasm
and
Invective,
as must needs be more effectual in promoting
Irreligion,
than a formal and avowed Accusation. For in the Way of open War, there is fair Warning given to put Reason upon Guard, that no pretending Argument be suffered to pass without Examination. On the contrary, the noble Writer's concealed Method of
Raillery,
steals insensibly on his Reader; fills him with endless Prejudice and Suspicion; and, without passing thro' the
Judgment,
sixeth such Impressions on the Imagination, as
Reason,
with all its Effects, will be hardly able afterwards to efface.
THESE inconsistent Circumstances in his Lordship's Conduct, have made it a Question among some, what his real Sentiments were concerning Religion and
Christianity.
If it be necessary to decide this Question, we may observe, that a disguised Unbeliever may have his Reasons for making a formal Declaration of his Assent to the Religion of his Country: But it will be hard to find what should tempt a real
Christian
to load
Christianity
with Scorn and
Infamy.
Indeed, the noble Writer, to do him Justice, never designed to leave us at a Loss on this Subject. For he hath been so good, frequently to remind his Reader, to
look out
for the true Drift of his
Irony,
lest his real Meaning should be mistaken or disregarded.
HERE then lies the Force of his Lordship's Attack on
Christianity;
"In exciting Contempt by Ridicule."
A Method which, as we have already seen
Essay
i. passim.
, tho' devoid of all rational Foundation, is yet most powerful and efficacious in working upon vulgar Minds. Thus the Way of
Irony,
and false Encomium, which he so often employs against the blessed Founder of our Religion, serves him for all Weapons; the deeper he strikes the Wound, the better he shields himself.
WE are not therefore to be surprized, if we find the noble Writer frequently affecting a Mixture of
solemn Phrase
and
low
Buffoonry;
not only in the same
Tract,
but in the same
Paragraph.
In this Respect, he resembles the facetious Drole I have somewhere heard of, who wore a
transparent Masque:
Which, at a Distance, exhibited a Countenance wrap'd up in profound Solemnity; but those who came nearer, and could see to the Bottom, found the native Look distorted into all the ridiculous Grimace, which Spleen and Vanity could imprint.
SECTION II.
BUT as
natural
Religion is the only Foundation of
revealed;
it will be necessary, e'er we proceed to the last, to obviate any Insinuations which the noble Writer may have thrown out against the Former.
AS to the Expectation of future Happiness considered, as the natural Consequence of virtuous Action; his Lordship hath not, that I know of, either assirmed, or insinuated any thing against it's Reasonableness. But with Regard to the other Branch of Religion,
"the Belief of a future State of Misery or Punishment, considered as the appointed Consequence of Vice,"
this he hath frequently endeavoured to discredit in such a Manner, as would be no small Degree of Guilt to transcribe, were it not to shew at once the Impiety and Falsehood of his Affirmations.
IN his Letter on
Enthusiasm,
he hath obliged us with several Passages of this Kind. These, it must be owned, are so obscure, that we must be content, to refer them rather to the Reader's equitable Construction, than urge them as direct Proofs.
THE Apprehension and
Fear
of something
supernatural,
so universal among Mankind, he seems all along to deride, as a visionary and
groundless Pannic
Let. on Enthus.
passim.
. He adds that,
"while some Sects, such as the
Pythagorean
and latter
Platonick,
joined in with the Superstition and Ethusiasm of the Times; the
Epicurean,
the
Academic
and others, were allowed to use all the Force of Wit and Raillery against it
Ib.
."
To convince us how much he approves the Conduct of these libertine Sects, he boldly follows their Example. He assures us that
"such is the Nature of the liberal, polished and refin'd Part of Mankind; so far are they from the mere Simplicity of Babes and Sucklings; that, instead of applying the Notion of a future Reward or Punishment, to their immediate Behaviour in Society; they are apt much rather, thro' the whole Course of their Lives, to shew evidently, that they look on the pious Narrations to be indeed no better than Children's Tales, and the Amusement of the mere Vulgar
Misc.
iii. c. 2.
."
He confirms these Opinions by assigning the Reason why Men of Sense should stand clear of the Fears of a Futurity:
"GOD is so
good,
as to exceed the very best of us in
Goodness:
And after this Manner we can have no Dread or Suspicion
to render us uneasy;
for it is
Malice only,
and
not Goodness,
which can make us afraid
Let. on Enthus.
."
IS this the
Philosopher
and
Patriot,
the Lover of his Country and Mankind!
This
the Admirer of ancient Wisdom, of venerable Sages, who founded
"Laws, Constitutions, civil and religious Rites, whatever civilizes or polishes Mankind
Moralists,
P. i. § 3.
."
Tu Pater et Rerum inventor! Tu patria nobis
Suppeditas praecepta!
THIS, sure, is unhinging Society to the utmost of his Power: For the Force of
religious Sanctions
depends as much on their being believed, as the Force of
human Laws
depends on their being executed. To
destroy
the
Belief
of the
one
therefore, is equivalent to suspending the
other.
BUT as the present Debate concerns not the
Utility,
but the
Truth
of
Religion;
'tis chiefly incumbent on us, to shew, that the noble Writer's
Opinion
and
Reasoning,
on this Subject, are void of all Foundation.
'TIS observable therefore, First, that his Lordship, in other Places, allows that
"If there be naturally such a Passion as Enthusiasm, 'tis evident, that Religion itself is of the Kind, and must be therefore natural to Man
Misc.
ii. c. 1.
."
And in his
Letter on Enthusiasm,
even while he derides the Proneness of Mankind to the
conscientious Fear,
he adds,
"that tho' Epicurus thought these Apprehensions were
vain,
yet he was forced to allow them in a Manner
innate:
"—"From which Concession, a
Divine,
methinks, might raise a
goood Argument
against him, for the
Truth
as well as
Usefulness
of Religion."
Now as some may possibly be at a Loss to determine here, whether the noble Writer be in
Jest
or
Earnest,
the Argument he hints at is plainly this: That if we look round the Works of Nature, we shall find an Analogy established, which seems a Proof, that this natural Fear which
presseth
so universally on the human Mind, hath a real and proportioned Object. The Argument hath been urged by many of great Name, in Favour of the
Hope
of future
Good;
and 'tis surely of equal Force, whatever that Force may be, when apply'd to the
Fear
of future
Ill.
For we see thro' the whole Creation, every Animal of whatever Species, directed by it's Nature or the Hand of Providence, to fear and shun it's proper and appointed Enemy. We find these Apprehensions universally suited to the Nature and Preservation of every Species among Birds, Beasts, Fishes, Insects. Nor is there one
Fear,
tho' sometimes
excessive
in it's
Degree,
that is
erroneous
with Regard to it's
Object.
The
religious Fear,
therefore, which
forceth itself
so universally on the human Mind, in every Age and Nation, ignorant or knowing, civilized or barbarous; hath
probably
an Object suited to it's Nature, ordained for the Welfare of the human Species. At least, this Argument must ever be of Weight with those, who draw their Ideas of future Existence from the
Instincts, Hopes,
and
Expectations
of the human Mind.
INDEED, on the noble Writer's refined Scheme of Morals, in which the natural Affections of the Mind are represented, as all-sufficient for the Purposes of human Happiness, this Argument must lose it's Force; because, on this Supposition, the religious Fear is
supernumerary
and
useless:
But then this shews the Supposition itself to be
monstrous, absurd,
and contrary to the established Course of Nature; because Nature gives no Power or Passion, but to some proper and appointed End: The very
Existence
of the Passion, therefore, is a Proof of it's Necessity.
NOW, if indeed the religious Fear be
necessary,
as, we presume, hath been sufficiently proved in the preceding Essay; then, from hence will arise a strong and convincing Proof, that the Object of religious Fear is
real.
For we find thro' the whole Extent of created Being, that the Author of Nature hath annexed to all his Designs and Purposes, the proper Means or Objects, by which they may be fulfilled. As therefore the religious Fear is not only interwoven with the Frame of Man, but
absolutely necessary
to his
Happiness,
it's Object must be
real;
because, if
not,
you suppose the Creator to have given a NECESSARY
Passion,
without it's
proper
and
appointed Object;
which would be a Contradiction to the
universal
and
known Constitution
of Things.
ON this Occasion, we may observe the Weakness of the
Epicurean
System, concerning
Providence:
For that Sect hath ever deny'd, that the Deity concerns himself with the
moral
Conduct of Man. But from the wise and benevolent Constitution of the natural World itself, a strong Proof ariseth in Support of GOD's
moral
Government of it, and of the Truth of the
Fears
and
Expectations
of the human Mind. For if we allow that he regards and preserves the natural Order and Symmetry of the Creation; that he hath formed this immense System of Being, and secured it's Continuance and Welfare, by certain Laws, necessary to the Happiness of his Creatures; then we must on the same Foundation conclude, that he hath likewise established such
Motives
and
Laws
of
Action,
as may determine
Man
to prosecute the same End. It were an Imputation on the Wisdom of the Deity, to conceive him as
doing
the
one,
and
omitting
the
other:
Unless
Mind
and
Morals
be less worthy of his Regard, than
Matter
and
Motion.
BUT still the noble Writer proceeds in the Spirit of Derision, to expose the Absurdities and Mischiefs this misguided religious Principle hath occasioned; he often expatiates on the
superstitious Horrors,
and
surious Zeal
which have had their Source in this
Principle;
and thence, in the Way of Insinuation, concludes it
irrational
and
groundless.
THE Facts, it must be owned, are notorious and undeniable: But the Consequence is no less evidently chimerical and vain. Lord SHAFTESBURY himself hath observed, that in Failure of a
just Prince
or
Magistrate,
Mankind are ready to submit themselves even to a
Tyrant:
"Like new-born Creatures, who have never seen their
Dam,
they will fancy one for themselves, and apply (as by Nature prompted) to some like Form for Favour and Protection. In the Room of a
true Foster-Father
and
Chief,
they will take after a
false one;
and in the Room of a legal Government and just Prince, obey even a Tyrant
Wit. and H.
P. iii. § 1.
."
And hence he draws a strong Proof of the Force of the
social
or
herding
Principle, even from
despotic
Power itself. Again he hath remarked, that
"
Heroism
and
Philanthropy
are almost one and the same; yet by a small Misguidance of the Affection, a Lover of Mankind becomes a Ravager; a Hero and Deliverer becomes an Oppressor and Destroyer
Ib. §
.
."
'Tis the same in Religion. Where the human Mind (ever restless in it's Search for the great Center of created Being, on which alone it can perfectly repose itself) seeks, but cannot find the
true
GOD, it naturally sets up a
false one
in his Place: Here too, Mankind,
"like new-born Creatures, who have never seen their
Dam,
will fancy one for themselves, and apply (as by Nature prompted) to some like Form for Favour and Protection. In the Room of a
true Foster-Father,
they will take after
a false one;
and in the Room of an
all-perfect
GOD, worship even an
Idol.
"
The religious Principle, thus misguided, breaks forth indeed, into Enormities the most pernicious and destructive: Hence indeed,
"by a small Misguidance of the Affection, a
Lover of Mankind
becomes a
Ravager;
a
Saint,
an
Oppressor
and
Destroyer.
"
But as from the Abuse of the
social
Principle, so here, in that of the
religious
one, no other Consequence can be justly drawn, but that it is
natural
and
strong.
BUT further, the noble Writer finds the Notion of future Punishment,
inconsistent
with his Idea of
divine Goodness.
Therefore, says he,
"We can have no Dread or Suspicion to make us uneasy: For it is
Malice only,
and not
Goodness,
which can make us afraid
Enq.
B. ii. Part ii. § 2.
."
YET, on another Occasion, his Lordship can affirm, and justly, that,
"a Man of
Temper
may resist or
punish without Anger.
"
And if so, why may not divine
Goodness
make us
afraid?
For as divine Goodness regards the greatest Happiness of all it's Creatures; so, if Punishment be
necessary
to that End, divine
Goodness
will
therefore
ORDAIN PUNISHMENT. To this Purpose, a Writer of distinguished Rank and Penetration:
"In Reality, Goodness is the natural and just Object of Fear to an ill Man. Malice may be appeased or satiated: Humour may change: But Goodness is as a fixed, steady immoveable Principle of Action. If either of the Former holds the Sword of Justice, there is plainly Ground for the greatest of Crimes to hope for Impunity. But if it be Goodness, there can be no possible Hope, whilst the Reasons of things, or the Ends of Government call for Punishment. Thus every one sees how much greater Chance of Impunity an ill Man has, in a partial Administration, than in a just and upright one. It is said, that the Interest or Good of the Whole, must be the Interest of the universal Being; and that he can have no other. Be it so. This Author (Ld.
S.
) has proved that Vice is naturally the Misery of Mankind in this World: Consequently it was for the Good of the Whole, that it should be so. What Shadow of Reason then is there to assert, that this may not be the Case hereafter? Danger of future Punishment (and if there be Danger, there is Ground of Fear) no more supposes Malice, than the present Feeling of Punishment does
Dr.
Butler's
Sermons, Preface, p. 21.
."
THUS the noble Writer's Derision and Argumentation are equally chimerical and impious; as it appears, that the natural Fears and Expectations of the human Mind are at least founded in Probability.
SECTION III.
HIS Lordship's Opinions being so little favourable to
natural Religion,
we cannot wonder, if we find him, on every possible Occasion, throwing out Insinuations and virulent Remarks, in Order to disgrace
revealed.
The First that will deserve our Notice, are such as tend to invalidate the
Credibility
of
Scripture History.
HE tells us,
"He who says he believes
for certain,
or is
assured
of what he believes, either speaks
ridiculously,
or says in Effect, he believes strongly, but
is not
sure: So that whoever is not conscious of Revelation, nor has certain Knowledge of any Miracle or Sign, can be no more than
sceptick in the Case:
And the best Christian in the World, who being destitute of the Means of Certainty, depends only on History and Tradition for his Belief of these particulars, is at best but a
sceptick
Christian
Misc.
ii. c. 2.
."
NOW it should seem, that the Dexterity of this Passage lies in a new Application of two or three Words. For, by
"
certain
and
assured
"
he means
more,
by
"
Scepticism
"
he means much
less,
than it is ever used to signify. And thus (as in Dr.
Mandeville's
Philosophy already
See above,
Essay
ii.
criticized) wherever we have not
Demonstration,
'tis plain we must needs be
Sceptics.
BUT if indeed we must be
Sceptics
in
revealed Religion,
on this Account; the same Consequence will follow, with Regard to every other Kind of Knowledge that depends on
human Testimony.
We must be
Sceptics
too, in our Belief of every
past
Transaction; nay of every thing transacted in our own Times, except only of what falls within the narrow Circle of our proper
Observation.
The Manners of
Men,
the Site of
Countries,
the Varieties of
Nature,
the Truths of Philosophy, the very Food we eat, and Liquids we drink, are all received on the sole Evidence of human Testimony. But what Name would he merit among Men, who in these Instances should say,
"he does not believe for certain, or is not assured of what he believes",
till in every Case he should be impelled by the Force of
Demonstration,
or the Evidence of
Sense?
AND indeed, on other Occasions, where
Christianity
is not concerned, the noble Writer can speak in a very different, and much juster Manner. For thus he appeals to Nature, in
Proof
of the Wisdom and Goodness of the Creator.
"Thus too, in the System of the
bigger
World.
See there
the mutual Dependency of things: The Relation of one to another; of the Sun to this inhabited Earth; and of the
Earth
and
other Planets
to the
Sun!
The
Order, Union,
and
Coherence
of the
whole!
And know, my ingenious Friend, that by this
Survey
you will be obliged to own the
universal System,
and
coherent Scheme
of things; to be
established on
ABUNDANT PROOF, capable of
convincing
any fair and just Contemplator of the Works of Nature
Moralists,
P. ii. § 4.
."
His Lordship's Argument is surely just. Yet, is there one to be found among five Hundred of those, who are thus
convinced
of the wise Structure of the Universe, who have ever taken a
Survey
of this immense System, except only in the
Books
and
Diagrams
of
experienced Philosophers?
How few are capable even of comprehending the
Demonstrations,
on which the Truth of the
Copernican
System is established; or receiving, on any other Proof than that of
human Testimony,
"the Relation of the
Earth
and
other Planets
to the
Sun,
the
Order, Union,
and
Coherence
of the
whole?
"
It cannot be supposed, that even the noble writer himself ever went thro' the tedious Process of
Experiment
and
Calculation,
which alone can give absolute
Certainty
in this extensive Subject. Yet we find, he is not in any Degree,
"sceptical in the Case;"
but very rationally determines, that the Wisdom of the Deity in
"this universal System, is
established
on
abundant Proof,
capable of
convincing
any
fair
and
just
Contemplator of the Works of Nature."
IT appears then, that a Confidence in the Veracity of others is not peculiar to the Belief of
revealed Religion:
The same takes Place in almost every Subject. More particularly, we see, that in the
History of Nature,
as in that of
Revelation,
the Evidence of human
Testimony
is the only Sort of Proof that can be given to Mankind: And whoever allows this Proof, as being
"
abundant
and
convincing
"
in the
one,
and disallows or despiseth it in the
other,
how self satisfied soever he may be in his own
Imagination,
is neither a
fair
nor a
just
Contemplator of the Works and the Ways of
Providence.
IF therefore any Objection lies against the Credibility of the
Scripture History,
it must consist in maintaining, not
"that human Testimony is insufficient to support it,"
but
"that in Fact, it is not sufficiently supported by the Evidence of human Testimony."
If so; this Defect must arise, either from a Want of
External Evidence:
Or Secondly, because the Facts, Doctrines, and Composition of the Bible, are such, that no Testimony whatever can convince us that it is a
divine Revelation.
WITH Regard to the first of these,
"the Testimony on which the Authenticity of the Gospel History is founded:"
This the noble Writer hath attacked by a long Chain of Insinuations, in his last
Miscellany
Misc.
v. c. 3.
. Where, in the Way of
Dialogue,
he hath indeed amply repaid the Treatment, which in the preceding Chapter he charges upon the
Clergy.
For here he hath introduced two of that
Order,
who, to use his own Expression,
"are indeed his very legitimate and obsequious
Puppets,
who cooperate in the most officious Manner with the Author, towards the Display of his own proper Wit, and the Establishment of his private Opinion and Maxims
Ib. c. 2.
." "Where after the poor Phantom or Shadow of an Adversary, has said as little for his Cause as can be imagined, and given as many Opens and Advantages as could be desired, he lies down for good and all; and passively submits to the killing Strokes of his unmerciful Conqueror
Ib.
."
TO these Gentlemen the noble Writer assigns the
herculean
Labour, of proving the Necessity of an absolute
Uniformity
in Opinion.
A hopeful Project indeed!
as his Lordship calls it elsewhere. No Wonder he comes off
Conqueror,
in such a Debate. But here lies the Peculiarity of his Conduct: That while he pretends only to prove, that the Scripture cannot be a Foundation for Uniformity of Opinion
in all things;
he hath thrown out such Insinuations, as evidently imply, that there can be no Foundation for believing the Truth of
any thing
the Gospel History contains. He says, he began by desiring them
"to explain the Word
Scripture,
and by enquiring into the Original of this Collection of antienter and later Tracts, which in general they comprehended under that Title: whether it were the
apocryphal
Scripture, or the more
canonical?
the
full
or
half-authorized?
the
doubtful
or the
certain?
the
controverted
or
uncontroverted?
the
singly
read, or that of
various
Reading? the Texts of
these
Manuscripts or of
those?
the Transcripts, Copies, Titles, Catalogues, of
this
Church and Nation, or of
that other?
of this Sect and Party, or of another? of those in one Age called Orthodox, and in Possession of Power, or of those who, in another, overthrew their Predecessor's Authority; and, in their Turn also, assumed the Guardianship and Power of holy things? For how these sacred Records were guarded in those Ages, might easily (he said) be
imagined,
by any one who had the least insight into the History of those Times, which we called
Primitive,
and those Characters of Men, whom we styled Fathers of the Church
Misc.
v. c. 3.
."
HERE, as his Lordship drags us into the
beaten Track
of
Controversy,
the best Compliment that can be paid the Reader, is to carry him thro' it by the shortest Way. The stale Objections here raked together by the noble Author have been so often, and so fully refuted, by a Variety of excellent Writers, that, to many, it may seem a needless Task, even to touch upon the Subject
Du Pin, Le Clerc, Tillemont, Whitby, Lardner, Phil. Lipsiensis,
&c. and very lately Mr.
Jortin,
in his learned Remarks on
Ecclesiastical History.
.
HOWEVER, for the Satisfaction of those who may think it necessary, a summary View of the Evidence is here subjoined,
THE Authenticity, therefore, of the Books of the
new Testament,
appears to be founded on the strongest moral Evidence, because from the earliest Ages, we find them ascribed to the Apostles and Evangelists, whose Names they bear. Thus St PAUL's Epistles are mentioned by St. PETER, and cited by CLEMENS ROMANUS, who lived in the Reign of CLAUDIUS, even before St PAUL was carried Prisoner to ROME. POLYCARP and IRENAEUS were for some Time contemporary with St. JOHN: They both cite the four Gospels, and affirm they were all wrote by the Apostles and Evangelists, whose Names they bear. JUSTIN MARTYR and CLEMENS ALEXANDRINUS, confirm their Accounts in the following Century: And the great ORIGEN, with whom I shall close the Catalogue, and who lived in the Reign of SEVERUS, in his Book against CELSUS hath cited
all
the
Gospels,
and
most,
if not
all
the
Epistles,
under the Names they now bear: And the Words of the several Citations perfectly agree with those of the new Testament, now in Use. Such a full Proof of the Genuineness of these sacred Records, as is not to be parallel'd, concerning any other Book, of
equal
or even of much
less Antiquity.
The
internal
Proof of their Genuineness, arising from their
Style
and
Composition,
is no less eminent and particular. The Genius of every Book, is so perfectly agreeable to the Character and Education of it's respective Author; every Custom described or alluded to, either
Jewish, Greek,
or
Roman,
so entirely suited to the
Times;
every Incident so
natural,
so
occasional,
so
particular,
so perfectly
identify'd,
that it were the very extreme of Ignorance and Folly, to raise a Doubt on this Subject.
THAT the Gospel-History hath been transmitted to us,
pure
and
uncorrupted,
we have no less Reason to believe. 'Tis well known how zealous the primitive Christians were in the Preservation of the Scriptures: We know, they regarded them as their chief and dearest Treasure; and often laid down their Lives, rather than deliver the sacred Records to their Enemies, who used every Art of Terror, to seize and destroy them. Again, the Scriptures were not then locked up from the Laity, as now in the
Roman
Church: But Copies were taken, dispersed, and became immensely numerous. They were universally read at the Times of public Worship, in different Nations of the World. To this we may add, that as
now,
so
then,
different Sects and Parties subsisted, who all appealed to Scripture for Proof of their several Opinions; and these, 'tis evident, must have been so many
Checks
upon each other, to the general Exclusion of Mistake and Fraud
The JEWS and SAMARITANS were
Checks
upon each other in the same Manner, for the Preservation of the Purity of the
Pentatouch.
The
Samaritan Pentatouch
was printed in the last Century: And,
"after
Two thousand Years
Discord between the Two Nations, varies as little from the other, as any
Classic
Author in less Tract of Time has disagreed from itself, by the
unavoidable Mistakes
of so many
Transcribers.
"
See
Phil. Lipsiens.
.
THIS being the real State of the Case; let us now consider the noble Writer's Questions. He asks, whether by Scripture be understood
"the apocryphal or more canonical? the full or half-authorized? the doubtful or the certain? the controverted or uncontroverted?"
These Questions are nearly synonymous, and one short Reply will clear them all. There are many Books, concerning which there never was
any Doubt.
There are some, concerning which the Doubts have been fully
cleared up.
There are others, concerning which the Doubts have been
confirmed.
Of the first Kind are
all
the
Gospels,
and
most
of the
Epistles:
Of the second, are the Epistle to the
Hebrews,
the
second
of
Peter, second
and
third
of
John,
that of
Jude,
and the
Apocalypse:
Of the third Kind, are the
apocryphal
Books; therefore indeed so called.
THE noble Author goes on.
"The
single
read, or that of
various
Reading?"
My Lord, if by single read you mean a Book in which there are no various Readings, there are none
single read:
Nor, probably, was there ever any Book
single read,
that went thro' more than one Edition: at least, before the Invention of
Printing.
And as the Scriptures were oftener transcribed than any other Book, so, a greater Variety of of Readings must naturally take Place. But I must inform your Lordship, from the learned PHILELEUTHERUS LIPSIENSIS, that this is the most illiterate of all Cavils: For that in Fact, we have the
Sense
of those ancient Authors most
entire,
where the various Readings are most numerous: As, of those Authors where the Varieties are
fewest,
the Sense is most mutilated or obscure
For a full View of this Argument,
See
Phil. Lipsiens.
. But if by
single read,
your Lordship means an authentic Text collected and composed out of the various Readings, I beg leave to inform you, there is no such in the Protestant Churches. They have been too modest to attempt any such Thing. Nor does the
Truth
suffer by it: For as the learned Critic, just before quoted, observes, the most faulty Copy of the new Testament now in being, does not obscure one moral Doctrine or one Article of Faith.
AGAIN the noble Writer goes on, in a Profusion of synonymous Terms:
"The Transcripts, Copies, Titles, Catalogues, of this Church or that? of this Sect or Party, or another? of those in one Age called orthodox, or those who in another Age overthrew them?"
What unexperienced Person would not imagine from hence, that
different
Churches, Sects, or Parties, had
each
of them a Bible different from the rest? Yet 'tis certain, that however these Parties differed in Opinions, we find from their Writings now subsisting, that they all appealed to one common Scripture for their Support.
THE noble Writer takes his Leave by paying a Compliment to these primitive Writers called the Fathers of the Church.
"How these sacred Records were
guarded
in those Ages, might be easily
imagined,
" &c.
—But to
imagine,
is a much easier Task than to
prove;
especially when Imagination is helped forward by Inclination.
Guarded
indeed they were, as we have seen, from Interpolation and Falshood. But if he means to insinuate, that they were
guarded
from
Inspection
and
Criticism,
he does great Injustice to Christianity. For whatever Marks of secular Views may be discovered in the Conduct of the ancient Christians in the succeeding Ages, we may safely bid Defiance to the noble Writer's Admirers, to shew any thing of this Kind in the Characters of those to whose Testimony we have here appealed; and on whose Testimony, joined to that of their numerous and ingenuous Contemporaries, the Authenticity of the Gospel-History depends. They were far from acting or writing with a View to temporal Advantage; they were struggling under the Weight of heavy Persecutions; had no Motives to preach or write, but the great Expectation of Happiness hereafter, founded on a firm Belief of that holy Religion, which they propagated with an Effect
almost,
if not
indeed, miraculous.
ON this Occasion I cannot but observe a strange Insinuation thrown out elsewhere by the noble Writer; which, however, is so glaring a Falshood, that he finds himself obliged to disavow it, even while he labours to impress it on his Reader's Imagination, in all the Colours of Eloquence.
"If, saies he, the collateral Testimony of other ancient Records were destroyed, there would be less Argument or Plea remaining against that natural Suspicion of those who are called Sceptical, that the holy Records themselves were no other than the pure Invention or artificial Compilement of an interested Party, in Behalf of the
richest Corporation,
and most
profitable Monopoly
in the World
Misc.
v. c. 1.
."
Now if his Lordship be indeed in earnest in urging this Insinuation, he must believe, that
one Set
of Men
preached,
and
wrote,
and endured
Bonds
and
Imprisonment, Torments
and
Death;
to the End that
another Set
of Men, some
three
or
four Hundred Years
after, might enjoy the
rich Corporations
and
profitable Monopoly
of
Church Preferments.
How far this may be a Proof of the noble Writer's
Sagacity,
I shall leave others to determine. But if he
believes not
the Insinuation, as indeed he seems to
disbelieve
it, then we cannot surely hesitate a Moment concerning the Measure of his
Sincerity.
THE Gentleman therefore who makes so ridiculous a Figure in the supposed Conversation, had he not been a poor
obsequious Puppet,
might have returned one general and satisfactory Answer to all these extraordinary Questions. He might have desired his Lordship
"to chuse which he should like
best
or
worst
among all these controverted Copies, various Readings, Manuscripts, and Catalogues adopted by whatever Church, Sect, or Party."
Nay, he might have desired him to chuse any of the almost infinite Number of Translations made of these Books in distant Countries and Ages: And taking that to be the Scripture he appealed to, might safely have relied on it, as amply sufficient for all the great Purposes of
Religion
and
Christianity.
SECTION IV.
SINCE therefore the
Scripture History
appears to be supported by
higher Degrees
of human Testimony, than any other ancient Writing; the only Objections of real Weight against it, must be drawn from it's
internal Structure:
from the Facts it
relates,
the Doctrines it
inculcates,
or the Form of it's
Composition.
THE
Facts
related, being as it were the Foundation of all, will naturally come first under Consideration.
"Now these, say the Enemies of Christianity, are
miraculous
or
out of Nature,
and therefore absurd: For
as they can prove nothing,
so it is impossible that Accounts of this Kind could be so essentially mingled with a Religion that should come from God."
ON this Foundation the noble Writer hath taken frequent Occasion to deride what he calls the
"Mockery of Miracles
Misc.
ii. c. 2.
;"
particularly those of our Saviour
Ib. c. 3.
. Here we shall find him striking at the very Basis of all revealed Religion, while he asserts, that, even supposing the Truth of the Facts,
"Miracles cannot witness either for God or Men, nor are any Proof either of Divinity or Revelation
Moralists,
Part ii § 5. passim.
."
But that his Argument may be fairly represented, let it appear in his own Words.
"The Contemplation of the Universe, it's Laws and Government, was (I aver'd) the only Means which could establish the sound Belief of a Deity. For what tho' innumerable Miracles from every Part assailed the Sense, and gave the trembling Soul no Respite? What tho' the Sky should suddenly open, and all kinds of Prodigies appear, Voices be heard, or Characters read? What would this evince more, than that there was certain Powers could do all this? But what Powers; whether one or more; whether superior, or subaltern; mortal, or immortal; wise or foolish; just or unjust; good or bad: This would still remain a Mystery; as would the
true Intention,
the
Infallibility
or
Certainty
of whatever
these Powers asserted
Ib.
."
'TIS remarkable, that the noble Writer pretends here only to shew, that Miracles are no Proof of the
Existence
of God: Yet in the Conclusion of his Argument, he brings it home to the Case of
Revelation:
To
"the true
Intention,
the
Infallibility
or
Certainty
of whatever
these Powers
ASSERTED."
This is clearly the Scope of his Argument: And so indeed hath it been understood by his
Under-workmen
in
Infidelity,
who have with great Industry retailed this Objection. As it is a Circumstance of the last Importance in Regard to the Truth of
Christianity,
it cannot be an unseasonable Task, to shew in the fullest Manner the Vanity and Error of this tritc Cavil.
BUT instead, of considering
single Acts
of of supernatural or
miraculous Power,
as being performed in Attestation of any
particular Doctrine,
(which hath been the general Way of treating this Question) 'tis my Design to consider as one Object,
"that vast
Series
and
Concatenation
of miraculous Acts, recorded in the Old and New Testament, wrought thro' a long Succession of Ages, for the
carrying on, Support,
and
Completion
of the
Christian Dispensation.
WITH this View therefore let us first consider the means by which Mankind are justly convinced of the
Being
of a
God.
Now this Conviction, 'tis allowed by all, ariseth from a
Union
of
Power, Wisdom,
ann
Goodness,
displayed in the visible Creation. From this
Union
alone arises the Idea of an
all-perfect Being:
so that a Failure in any of these three essential Circumstances would
destroy
the Idea of a
God.
The
Goodness
of the Deity is seen in the designed End or Purpose of the Creation, which is,
"The Happiness of all his Creatures:"
His
Wisdom
is seen, in the proper Means employed for the Accomplishment of this great End: His
Power
fulfills what Goodness had intended and Wisdom contrived, by putting these Means in Execution. Hence then alone we obtain the Idea of a
Divinity,
from a
Union
of perfect
Goodness, Wisdom,
and
Power.
'TIS likewise, I think, acknowledged by all
Theists,
that, as to the divine Power, it may work it's Intentions, either by a continued and uninterrupted Superintendency, or Agency on Matter, or by impressing certain original and permanent Qualities upon it. Which of these two Kinds of Operation may really prevail in Nature, is perhaps beyond the Reach of human Knowledge, clearly to determine. The
Newtonian
Philosophy indeed renders it highly probable, that the
continued Agency
of
God
prevails. But a Determination in this Subject is indeed of no Consequence; since, which soever of these Methods be ordained, the
divine Power
is equally display'd, while it ministers to the Ends of
Goodness
and
Wisdom.
'TIS equally plain, that, if the divine Goodness should determine to raise Mankind to
higher Degrees
of
Knowledge
and
Virtue,
than what they could attain to by the pre-established Laws of Nature; or to free them from
Defects
and
Miseries,
occasioned by any incidental and
voluntary
Corruptions,
posterior
to their
Creation;
'tis equally plain, I say, that an Exertion of
supernatural Power
for the Accomplishment of
this End,
would be a
Display, Proof,
or
Revelation
of the
Divinity,
entirely similar to that which arises from the Works of Nature. For both
here,
and in the Works of
Nature,
the Proof of the Divinity ariseth, not from mere uniform Acts of Power, but from the
Subserviency
of divine
Power
to this one great End, the
Production
of human
Happiness.
Here then, the noble Writer's Objection is essentially defective: What he affirms is either
false,
or
foreign
to the Question. For if we suppose (and the present Question is put upon this Footing only) that the miraculous or supernatural Effects are evidently subservient to similar Ends of
Wisdom
and
Goodness,
as appear in the Works of the Creation; then sure, we have equal Reason to conclude, and be convinced, that they are the Effects of
one
Power;—of one
superior
and
immortal
Power;—of one Power,
wise, just,
and
good;
—In a Word, of that Power which first brought Nature into Being, established Laws for the Welfare of his Creatures; and when the Happiness of his Creatures requires an Interposition, gives still further Evidences of his
Goodness, Wisdom,
and
Omnipotence,
by controuling those Laws which himself had established.
LET us now apply these Principles to the
Christian
Dispensation.
"This, we say, was a Scheme of Providence, which still continues operating; whereby the Deity determined to raise fallen and corrupted Man to higher Degrees of
Knowledge, Virtue,
and
Happiness,
than what by Nature he could have attained."
In this Design, the
divine
GOODNESS is eminently display'd.
THE Means, whereby this great Design was accomplished, was
"by separating a peculiar People from the rest of Mankind; not for their own Sakes, but for the Sake of all; by preserving them amidst their Enemies; by leading them forth into a distant Country; by establish-there the Worship of the
one
God, in Opposition to the Idolatries of surrounding Nations: 'Till, when the Fulness of Time should come, and Mankind be capable of receiving a more perfect Revelation, a Saviour JESUS CHRIST should be sent, to free Mankind from the Power of Ignorance and Sin; to bring Life and Immortality to Light, and communicate to all Men the most perfect practical Knowledge of the true God, and of every moral Duty."
In this Dispensation is no less eminently displayed the
divine
WISDOM.
BUT what less than Omnipotence itself could secure the perfect Execution of a Plan so
mighty
and
extensive?
Which reaching thro' the Compass of many, and distant Ages, must combat the
Power,
controul the
Prejudices,
and work it's Way thro' the
discordant Manners
and
Opinions
of all the Kingdoms of the Earth. On this Account the immediate Exertion of divine Power was necessary for it's
Proof, Support,
and
Completion.
Accordingly, we find it's omnipotent Author, carrying on this Scheme of
Wisdom
and
Goodness,
with a
mighty Hand,
and an
out-stretched Arm.
"He sent a Man before his People, even JOSEPH, who was sold to be a Bond-Servant: He increased his People exceedingly, and made them stronger than their Enemies. He sent MOSES his Servant, and AARON: And these shewed his
Tokens
among them; and
Wonders
in the Land of
Ham.
He sent Darkness, and it was dark; and turned their Waters into Blood. Their Land brought forth Frogs, yea, even in their King's Chambers. He gave them Hailstones for Rain, and Flames of Fire in their Land. He spake the Word, and the Locusts came innumerable, and devoured the Fruit of their Ground. He smote all the first-born in their Land, even the chief of all their Strength. He brought forth his People from among them: He spread out a Cloud to be a Covering, and Fire to give them Light in the Night-Season. He rebuked the
Red-Sea
also, and it was dried up; so he led them thro' the Deep as thro' a Wilderness. At their Desire he brought Quails, and filled them with the Bread of Heaven. He opened the Rock of Stone, so that Rivers ran in dry Places.—Yet within a while they forgat his Works, and tempted God in the Desert: Then the Earth opened, and swallowed up
Dathan,
and covered the Congregation of
Abiram.
They joined themselves unto
Baal-Peor,
and provoked him with their own Inventions; so the Plague was great among them: Then, being chastised, they turned to their God. He led them over
Jordan;
the Waters divided to let them pass. He discomfited their Enemies: At his Word the Sun abode in the midst of Heaven; and the Moon stood still, and hasted not to go down for a whole Day. So he gave the Kingdoms of
Canaan
to be an Heritage unto his People; that all the Nations of the World might know that the Hand of the Lord is mighty, and that they might fear the Lord continually."
HRRE then we see, that this mighty Series of miraculous Acts recorded in the
Old Testament,
being
the very Means
of
preserving
and
separating
the ISRAELITES from the
rest
of Mankind, and at the same time designed to
impress
them with a
lasting Idea
of the uncontroulable and
immediate Power
of
God;
were generally
awakening
Instances of
Omnipotence,
often of
Justice
and
Terror,
in the Punishment of
cruel
EGYPTIANS,
rebellious
JEWS, and
idolatrous Nations.
IN pursuing this vast Concatenation of divine Power thro' the Series of Miracles recorded in the
New Testament,
and wrought for the same End, the
Completion
of
Christianity,
we shall find them of a very
different
Nature and
Complexion:
Yet still, admirably suited to accomplish the
same
designed
Ends
of
Providence.
For now the
Fulness
of Time
was come, in which the Wisdom of the Deity ordained the immediate Establishment of a Religion of perfect
Purity
and boundless
Love.
Accordingly, the Series of miraculous Acts wrought for this great End, were such as must naturally
engage
Mankind to a
favourable Reception
of
Christianity;
were the very
Image
and Transcript, expressed the very
Genius
of that most
aimable
Religion they were brought to
support
and
establish;
in a Word, were continued Instances of
Omnipotence,
joined with
unbounded Charity,
divine
Compassion
and
Benevolence.
THE Birth of JESUS was proclaimed by a glorious Apparition of superior Beings, who declared the End of his coming in that divine Song of Triumph,
"Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth Peace, Good Will towards Men!"
His Life was one continued Scene of divine Power, Wisdom, and Beneficence. He gave Eyes to the Blind; Ears to the Deaf; and Feet to the Lame: He raised the Dead to Life, rebuked the raging Elements, and made the Winds and Seas obey him. When to fulfill the Decrees of Heaven, and complete the great Work of Man's Redemption, he submitted to an ignominious Death, the Vail of the Temple was rent in twain: A general Darkness involved, and an Earthquake shook, the City. The same Omnipotence by which he wrought his Miracles, raised him from the Grave; and after a short stay on Earth, during which he strengthened and confirmed his desponding Followers, translated him to Heaven. And now, a new and
unexpected
Scene of divine and miraculous Power opened on Mankind, for the full Establishment of
Christianity.
The Spirit of God came down, and dwelt with the Apostles; they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and spake with other Tongues, as the Spirit gave them Utterance. They were invested with supernatural Power to heal Diseases; were impowered to strike dead the deceitful ANANIAS and SAPPHIRA; and when imprisoned, were delivered by the immediate Hand of GOD. By these Means, Christianity gained a numerous Train of Proselytes among the JEWS; but the great Work of converting the Gentiles was not yet begun. To this End the Apostle PAUL was destined; and converted to Christianity by an amazing Act of supernatural and divine Power. In this important Ministry he was frequently preserved by the miraculous Care of Providence; did himself perform stupendous Acts of Power and Beneficence; by these Means converting Multitudes among the Gentiles, and planting Christianity in the most knowing and polished Nations of the Earth.
TO this irresistible Chain of Evidence, arising from the miraculous Exertion of divine Power, we may add another
collateral
Proof, arising from the
miraculous
Emanations of divine
Fore-knowledge,
recorded in the Bible, and delivered in PROPHECY thro' a Series of Ages, all
centering
in the same Point, the foretelling the
Completion
of this immense Plan of
Wisdom
and
Goodness.
These
Predictions
were fulfilled in the Advent, Life, Death, and Resurrection of our
Saviour;
who himself foretold the Success of his Apostles among the Gentiles, and the final Dissolution of the Jewish Polity. This came to pass in the Destruction of the
Temple:
And when a bitter Enemy to Christianity attempted to make void the Decrees of Heaven in rebuilding this
Temple,
(the only Circumstance of Union that could ever make the JEWS
once more a People
) the very Foundations were rent in Pieces by an Earthquake, and the mad Assailants against
Omnipotence
buryed in the Ruins.
FROM this mighty
Union,
therefore, ariseth a Proof similar to that which we obtain from the Works of Nature. For as in
these
we see the Happiness of the Creation
intended, plann'd,
and
produced,
and from hence discover the Agency of the Deity: So in the Progress and Completion of
Christianity
we find a parallel Display of the divine Attributes: We see the Advancement of Man's Happiness
determined
by divine GOODNESS,
plann'd
by divine WISDOM,
foretold
by divine KNOWLEDGE,
accomplished
by divine POWER: and hence, as in
Nature,
obtain a full
Manifestation, Proof,
or
Revelation
of the DEITY.
AS this seems to be the true Light, in which the Evidence arising from the Scripture-Miracles ought to be placed, it may be proper now to add a few Observations on what hath been offered on this Subject, both by the
Defenders
and the
Adversaries
of
Christianity.
I. AS to the Degree of Proof or Evidence arising from a
single Miracle
in Support of any
particular Doctrine;
whatever Force it may carry, 'tis a Point, which we are by no Means at present concerned to determine: Because, as we have seen, in the Progress of the Christian Dispensation, there is a vast
Series
or
Chain,
all
uniting
in one common End. It might be considered, in the same Manner, by those who write in Proof of the Being of a God,
"What Evidence of his Being would arise from a single
Vegetable
or
Animal,
unconnected with the rest of the Creation."
But however satisfying a single Fact of this Kind may be to impartial Minds, it were surely weak to argue on this Foundation
only,
while we can appeal to that mighty
Union of Design
which appears in the Works of Nature. It should therefore seem, that the Defenders of Christianity have generally set this Evidence in too
detached
and
particular
a Light: For tho' the Proof arising from a single Miracle, in Support of a particular Doctrine may be of sufficient Force to convince an equitable Mind; yet sure, 'tis infinitely stronger and more satisfactory, if we
view at once
the whole
Chain
of Miracles, by which the great Scheme of
Christianity
was propagated, as
one
vast
Object:
Because in this View, we discover innumerable Circumstances of
mutual Relation
and
Agreement,
similar to those which are Proofs of
final Causes
in the natural World: In a Word, we discover that
Union of Design,
that Concurrence of infinite
Goodness, Wisdom,
and
Power,
which is the sure Indication of the
Divinity.
II. IF in a Dispensation thus proved to be from God by all these concurring Signatures of Divinity, any
incidental Circumstances
should be found, which are
unaccountable
to
human Reason;
'tis the Part of human Reason to
acquiesce
in this
mysterious
and
unknown
Part, from what is
clear
and
known.
Because in a System or Dispensation planned by
infinite
Wisdom, there
must
of Necessity be something which
finite
Wisdom cannot comprehend. This the noble Writer allows with Regard to the Works of Nature.
"If, saith he, in this
mighty Union,
there be such Relations of Parts one to another as are not easily discovered; if on this Account, the
End
and
Use
of Things does not every where appear, there is
no Wonder;
since 'tis indeed no more than what
must happen
of
Necessity.
Nor could supreme Wisdom have otherwise ordered it. For in an Infinity of things thus relative,
a Mind
which sees not infinitely, can see nothing fully
Moralists,
P. ii. § 4.
."
III. HENCE therefore may be evinced the Vanity of this Cavil,
"that nothing can be proved to be a divine Revelation which is not discoverable by human Reason; since whatever is reasonable needs no Miracle to confirm it, and whatever is beyond the Reach of Reason cannot be made to appear reasonable by any Miracle whatsoever
An Objection urged by
Tindal, Morgan,
and others.
."
Hence, I say, the Vanity of this Cavil is evident. Because, as in Nature, so in Revelation, the full Evidence of Divinity is founded, not on single detached Circumstances, but on a mighty
Union
or
Concatenation
of Facts, implying the most perfect
Wisdom, Power,
and
Goodness.
This Foundation being once laid, if any thing
incidental
in either Case appears unaccountable as to it's
End
or
Use,
it is naturally and properly involved, or taken in as
a Part
of this
immense Design,
which thro' it's vast Extent, must needs be
incomprehensible
to
human Reason.
IV. As to the Objection,
"that Miracles may be wrought by inferior or subaltern baltern Beings:"
This vanishes at once with Regard to the
Christian
Dispensation, on the Evidence as here stated. For as the miraculous Acts of Power recorded in the Bible were wrought for the Support and Accomplishment of a Dispensation full of
Goodness
and
Wisdom,
we have the same Proof that they were the Work of the
supreme God,
as we have,
that Nature is so.
'Tis true, that in either Case, for aught we know,
inferior
or
subaltern
Beings may have been commissioned by the
Supreme,
as
immediate Agents.
But this Possibility, in either Case, can be a Matter of no Consequence to us, while it is manifest that the
delegated
Beings, whatever they might be, acted in full
Subserviency
to the
Goodness, Wisdom,
and
Omnipotence
of the
one eternal
GOD.
V. To the noble Writer's Objection,
"that, while we labour to unhinge Nature, we bring Confusion on the World, and destroy that Order from whence the one infinite and perfect Principle is known
Moral.
P. ii. § 5.
."
—the Reply is easy and convincing. For while the supernatural Power is directed to advance the Happiness of Mankind, 'tis so far from destroying any Principle from whence the one perfect Being is known; that, on the contrary, it gives us still clearer and more satisfying Notices of the divine Providence. 'Tis allowed on all Hands, that there are Imperfections in the Creation: And tho' there may be, and doubtless are, good Reasons unknown to us, why these should not in every Instance be removed by a particular Exertion of supernatural Power; yet when the divine Wisdom sees fit thus to interpose, for the further Advancement of his Creatures' Happiness; can any thing be more irrational than to say, that
"this is bringing Confusion on the World?"
The only Question is, Whether
"
Happiness
shall be destroyed for the sake of a pre-established
Law;
or a pre-established
Law
be
suspended
for the sake of
Happiness?
"
In other Words, whether
Power
shall be subservient to
Goodness,
or
Goodness
yield to
Power?
A Question which no sound
Theist
can be left at a Loss to answer. As therefore the Exertion of divine Power,
in Nature,
is for the Production of
Happiness;
the
miraculous
Exertion of Power, for the further
Advancement
of Man's
Happiness,
is so far from
"bringing Confusion on the World, either the Chaos and Atoms of the
Atheists,
or the Magick and Daemons of the POLYTHEISTS,"
that it is even the clearest
Proof,
or
Revelation
of the DIVINITY.
VI. WITHOUT this apparent Subserviency to the Designs of Wisdom and Goodness, all Accounts of miraculous Facts must be highly improbable. Because we have no Reason to believe that the Deity will ever counteract the established Laws of Nature; unless for the Sake of advancing the Happiness of his Creatures.
VII. ON this Account, most of the pretended Miracles recorded in the
Heathen
Story, are highly
improbable.
For it doth not appear, they were ever said to have been wrought in any
Series
or
Chain:
they never were
directed
to the Accomplishment of any
one End,
thro'
different Periods
of Time: Were frequently far from being
beneficent:
Seldom accommodated even to any
rational
Purpose; but generally, mere pretended Acts of
arbitrary
and
unmeaning Power.
Thus they are essentially distinguished from the Scripture Miracles; and are utterly destitute of that INTERNAL
Evidence
which ariseth from an
Union
of
Design.
VIII. HENCE we may clearly discover the Reason, why the wiser Heathens ridiculed the
Jews,
even to a
Proverb,
for their extravagant Regard to
Miracles.
They knew their own to be
absurd
and
irrational;
this at once prevented them from enquiring into the real Nature of the
Jewish
Miracles; and at the same Time, led them to
deride
and
reject
these boasted
Wonders,
as being no better than their own.
IX. BUT on the Evidence as here stated, the Scripture Miracles become even
probable,
from the Circumstances under which they are recorded. As they are beneficent: As they were wrought thro'
different Periods
of Time in
Support
of
one
Dispensation full of
Wisdom
and
Goodness:
As it is highly improbable that this Dispensation could have been
completed
in all it's immense
Variety
of
Circumstances
without such an immediate
Interposition
of divine
Power.
X. AND now we shall plainly see the Reason why we reject the Accounts of Miracles given by Heathen Writers, while we believe the other Parts of their Story; and yet cannot reject the
Jewish
and
Christian
Miracles, without rejecting at the same Time the whole History in which they are contained. For in the first Case, as the Miracles are
useless, unmeaning,
and
unconnected
with the rest of the Facts, it appears they are merely political. But the
Jewish
and
Christian
Miracles make an essential Part of the several Events related; they are strongly connected with this great HISTORY
of
PROVIDENCE, and are indeed
the very Means
by which
Providence
completed it's gracious
Purpose,
"the Establishment of Christianity."
We cannot therefore reject these
miraculous
Accounts without rejecting all the
natural Events
with which they are thus intimately
interwoven:
And this we cannot do, without destroying every received Principle of Assent, and shaking the Faith of all ancient History.
I cannot conclude this Argument without transcribing a noble Passage from the Book of
Wisdom,
where several of these Truths are finely illustrated: And which may convince us, how just an Idea the JEWS entertained of
miraculous Interposition,
beyond what their Enemies have industriously represented. The Writer, after recounting the stupendous Chain of Miracles wrought for the Deliverence of the chosen People, concludes thus.
"In all things, O Lord, thou hast magnified and glorified thy People, and hast not despised to assist them in every Time and Place.—For every Creature in it's Kind was fashioned a new, and served in their own
Offices enjoyned them,
that thy Children might be kept without Hurt.—For the things of the Earth were changed into things of the Water, and the thing that did swim went upon the Ground. The Fire had power in the Water, contrary to his own Virtue; and the Water forgat his own Kind, to quench.—Thus the Elements were
changed
among themselves by
a Kind of Harmony,
as when one
Tune
is
changed
upon an
Instrument
of Music, and
the Melody still remaineth.
THUS he nobly expresseth the
Subserviency
of the
Elements
to the
divine Will:
And under the Image of a musical Instrument, which the skilful Master
tunes, changes,
and
directs
to the
one
Purpose of
Harmony,
he aptly and beautifully represents the
whole Creation
as an
Instrument
in the Hands of GOD, which he
orders, varies,
and
controuls,
to the
one unvary'd End
of HAPPINESS.
SECTION V.
HAVING vindicated the Scripture
Miracles
from the noble Writer's Objections; and shewn that they are so far from being
useless
or
absurd,
that the grand Scheme of Providence could neither have been
evidenced
nor
accomplished
without them; we have destroyed the chief Foundation on which his Lordship hath attempted to fix his Cavils against Christianity on another Subject; I mean, that of
Enthusiasm;
which naturally offers itself next to our Consideration. As this is the noble Writer's favourite Topic, we may reasonably expect to see him shine in it: And in one Respect indeed he does. He never touches on the Subject, but he riseth above himself: His Imagination kindles; he catches the Fire he describes; and his Page glows with all the Ardors of this high Passion.
IT will, I presume, be unnecessary to make any Remarks on the large and eminent List of
Enthusiasts,
Poets, Orators, Heroes, Legislators, Musicians, and Philosophers, which his Lordship cites from PLATO. He may call them
Enthusiasts,
if it seem good to him; and may justly rank himself in the Number too, if by that Name be understood no more, than a Man of uncommon Strength or Warmth of Imagination; for this indeed is the requisite Foundation of Excellence, in any of the Characters here enumerated.
THE only Circumstance we are concerned
calmly
to examine, is that of
religious Enthusiasm:
Chiefly, to point out the essential Qualities and Characteristics which distinguish
this
from
divine Inspiration:
Hence to prove, that our
Saviour
and his
Apostles
were not
religious Enthusiasts,
as the noble Writer hath suggested.
'TIS indeed, as his Lordship observes,
"a great Work to judge of Spirits, whether they be of God."
We shall willingly join him in this Principle too,
"that in order to this End, we must antecedently judge our own Spirit, whether it be of Reason or sound Sense, free of every byassing Passion, every giddy Vapour, or melancholy Fume. This is the first Knowledge, and previous Judgment; to understand ourselves, and know what Spirit we are of. Afterwards we may judge the Spirit in others, consider what their personal Merit is, and prove the Validity of their Testimony by the Solidity of their Brain."
On this Principle then let the Cause be determined.
IN examining this Subject, therefore, we shall find, First, that in
some
Respects,
Enthusiasm
must, from it's Nature, always resemble
divine Inspiration.
Secondly, that in others it hath generally attempted a further Resemblance, but hath always betrayed itself. Thirdly, that in other Circumstances it is diametrically opposite to divine Inspiration, and void even of all seeming Resemblance.
FIRST,
Enthusiasm
must, from it's very Nature, in some Respects always resemble divine
Inspiration.
They both have the
Deity
for their Object; and consequently must both be attended with a devout Turn of Mind. They must both be subject to strong and unusual Impressions; the one
supernatural;
the other
praeternatural,
that is, beyond the ordinary Efforts of Nature, tho' really produced by Nature;
these,
thro' their uncommon Force, will often resemble, and not easily be distinguished from
those
which are the real Effect of
supernatural
Power. This Circumstance deserves a particular Attention: For these two Qualities which are common to both, have induced many to reject the very Notion of divine Inspiration, as mere Ethusiasm. Whereas we see, that, supposing such a thing as divine
Inspiration,
it cannot but resemble
Enthusiasm
in these two Characters.
BUT tho' it were strange, if
Counterfeits
did not hit off some Features of their genuine
Originals;
yet it were more strange, if they should be able to adopt them all, by such a perfect Imitation as to prevent their being detected.
THERE are, therefore, secondly, other Circumstances in which
Enthusiasm
hath generally attempted a further Resemblance of divine
Inspiration,
but in these hath always betrayed itself
spurious.
The first of this Kind is,
"A Pretence to, and Persuasion of the Power of working
Miracles.
"
This Persuasion must needs be natural to the Enthusiast; because he imagines himself in all things highly favoured of Heaven: The Notion of a Communication of
divine Power
will therefore be among the chief of his
Deliriums.
In this the Enthusiast hath been detected,
sometimes
by the
Absurdity
of the Miracle attempted,
always
by his
Inability
to perform what he proposed. There is scarce an
Absurdity
so great, but what hath some Time or other been aimed at by Enthusiasts, in the Way of miraculous Power. Their Attempts have ever been void of all
rational Intention,
void of
Beneficence,
void of
common Discernment:
And hence manifestly the Effects of a heated Imagination. That they have always failed in their Attempts is no less known. But these are Truths so willingly allowed by the Enemies of Religion, that we need not enlarge on them. On the contrary, we have seen, the Miracles of the Gospel are
rational, beneficent, united
in one great
End;
performed before
Numbers,
before
Enemies;
recorded by
Eye-Witnesses.
His Lordship indeed objects or insinuates, that the Testimony even of Eye-Witnesses cannot in this Case be a Foundation for Assent, unless we know them to have been
"free both from any particular Enthusiasm, and a general Turn to Melancholy."
But with Regard to the Miracles of the Gospel, we know that many were converted by them, from their former Prejudices; and therefore could not possibly be under the Influence of the
Christian
Enthusiasm, supposing it such. And as to their being free from
Melancholy;
for this we may safely appeal to the rational and consistent Accounts given by the sacred Penmen. Melancholy and Enthusiasm must ever produce inconsistent Visions. For a Proof that the Scripture Miracles are not of this Nature, we appeal to what hath been already said on this Subject in the preceeding Section.
BUT there is
one
miraculous Gift,
the Gift of Tongues,
which hath more generally been supposed the peculiar Effect of Inspiration. We have an Account of this Kind recorded in holy Writ
Acts
ii.
. And this Account the noble Writer hath thought it expedient to turn to Ridicule; by representing this supposed miraculous Gift, as the mere Effect of strong
Melancholy,
and natural
Inebriation.
To this Purpose, having observed from Dr. MORE, that
"the Vapours and Fumes of Melancholy partake of the Nature of Wine;"
he adds,
"One might conjecture from hence, that the malicious Opposers of early Christianity were not unversed in this Philosophy; when they sophistically objected against the apparent Force of the divine Spirit speaking in divers Languages, and attributed it
to the Power of new Wine
Misc.
ii. § 2.
."
Agreably to this insinuated Charge, he tells us of
"A Gentleman who has writ lately in Defence of revived Prophecy, and has since fallen himself into the prophetic Ecstasies."
The noble Writer adds,
"I saw him lately under an
Agitation
(as they call it)
uttering Prophecy
in a pompous
Latin Style,
of which, out of his Ecstasy, it seems,
he is wholly incapable
Let. on Enthu.
§ 6.
."
HERE we may see, how ready some People are to strain at a
Gnat,
and yet swallow a
Camel.
The noble Writer ridicules the Gift of Tongues from
divine Inspiration,
as absurd and impossible: Yet he believes, you see, or
affects
to believe, that this Man could speak
Latin
by the sole Force of
Imagination
and
Enthusiasm.
A compendious Method this, of learning Languages! I have somewhere met with a very rational Remark, That whereas it was charged by FESTUS upon St PAUL,
"that
Learning
had made him
mad,
"
this Notion inverts the Charge; for thus
"
Madness
may make a Man
learned.
"
BUT leaving his Lordship's Admirers to determine which is the greater Miracle, a
Gift
of Tongues from
God,
or a Gift of Tongues from
Melancholy;
'tis our Part to shew the essential Characters of Distinction between the
Reality
of
one,
and the
Pretences
of the
other
Now this will appear most evident, if we compare them, both in their
Manner,
and their
End.
As to the
Manner
of this
new prophecying Sect,
the noble Writer himself tells us, it was that of
Ecstacy
and
Convulsion;
and that he saw this Gentleman under an
Agitation
when he had the
Gift of Tongues.
As to the
End
pretended in this miraculous
Gift;
it appears there was really
none:
For the
pompous Latin Style
was uttered among a People who, in general, understood the
English
Language
only:
It could therefore serve to no
rational Purpose.
On the contrary, it appears that the miraculous Gift of Tongues conferred on the Apostles, was
rational
both in its
Manner
and it's
End.
There is not the least Hint of it's having been attended with
Ecstasies
or
Convulsions;
nay, it appears from the Account, that it could not have been so attended: And from the
Occasion
it appears how proper it was, with Regard to it's
End.
The Recital is noble and rational: Let it answer for itself.
"And there were dwelling at Jerusalem, JEWS, devout Men, out of
every Nation
under Heaven.—And they were all amazed, and marvelled, saying one to another, Behold, are not all these which speak,
Galileans?
And how hear we
every
Man in
our own Tongue,
wherein we were born?
Parthians,
and
Medes,
and
Elamites,
the Dwellers in
Mesopotamia,
and in
Judea,
and
Cappodocia,
in
Pontus
and
Asia, Phrygia
and
Pamphylia,
in
Egypt,
and in the Parts of
Libya
about
Cyrene:
And Strangers of
Rome; Jews
and
Proselytes, Cretes
and
Arabians;
we do
hear them speak in our Tongues the wonderful Works of God!
"
How just an Effort of divine Power! which should at once give
Instruction
to those who most wanted it; and be the
natural Means
of conveying and
dispersing
the glad Tydings of the
Gospel,
to
every Nation under Heaven!
—It should seem probable, therefore, that the Men who
"mocked and said, these Men are full of new Wine,"
were the
Natives of
Judea.
For PETER, we find, immediately arose, and addressed himself to these in particular.
"Ye Men of
Judea,
" &c.
And it was natural for them to entertain this Suspicion; because they neither understood what the Apostles uttered, nor could imagine how they should obtain a Knowledge of so many various Tongues. They must, therefore, naturally suspect, that the Apostles were uttering
unmeaning Sounds:
And this they regarded as the Effect of
Wine.
ANOTHER remarkable Circumstance, in which Enthusiasts have often pretended to resemble the divinely inspired, is
"the Gift of Prophecy."
Which, indeed, is no more than another Kind of Miracle. In this too, Enthusiasm hath always betrayed itself. First, and principally, with regard to the Event. The frequent Attempts of this Kind, and their perpetual
Failure,
need not here been umerated: They are known sufficiently. This cannot be charged on the
Apostles
with the least Appearance of Reason: For it is a Gift they hardly ever pretended to. Our
Saviour
indeed foretold many and great Events—the Defection of PETER; his own Sufferings, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension; the Descent of the Holy Spirit, the Persecution of his Disciples, the Propagation of his Religion among the Gentiles, the approaching Miseries and final Destruction of
Jerusalem.
Now all these Events were clearly accomplished: So far, therefore, are they from proving him an
Enthusiast,
that they demonstrate him possessed of
divine Fore-Knowledge.
BUT besides the
Event,
there is a notable Circumstance in the
Manner,
which hath ever distinguished
real
from
pretended, true
from
false
Prophecy: And which the noble Writer's groundless Affirmations have made it necessary to insist on.
HE says,
"I find by present Experience, as well as by all Histories sacred and prophane, that the Operation of this Spirit is every where the
same
as to the
bodily Organ
Let. on Enth.
§ 6.
."
In Confirmation of this he cites a Passage from the Gentleman who was subject to the prophetic Ecstasies, which informs us
"that the ancient Prophets had the Spirit of God upon them under Ecstasy, with divers strange Gestures of Body denominating them Madmen (or Enthusiasts) as appears evidently, says he, in the Instances of
Balaam, Saul, David,
Ezekiel, Daniel
Ib.
," &c.
And he adds, the Gentleman
"proceeds to justify this by the Practice of the apostolic Times, and by the Regulation which the Apostle himself applies to these seemingly irregular Gifts
Ib.
."
In this Instance it is not unpleasant to observe the different Views of his Lordship, and the Gentleman he refers to, in their Endeavours to establish this pretended Fact. The
one
was zealous to fix a Resemblance between the
old
and the
new
prophetic Manner, in order to strengthen the Credit of the
revived
Prophecy: The
other's
Intention plainly was, by that very
Resemblance,
which he was willing should pass for
real,
to destroy the Credit of the
Scripture
Prophecies, well knowing that the other deserved none.
BUT so it happens, that the noble Writer's Friend proves as bad an
Historian,
as he was a
Prophet:
And fails as miserably in relating
past
Events, as in foretelling
future.
The Truth is, that both his Lordship and the Gentleman seem to have been in a
Fit of Enthusiasm,
and have therefore been induced to mingle a little
pious Fraud,
thro' a Zeal for their respective
Theories.
For in Reality, this pretended Resemblance is utterly fictitious. There is not the least Hint in Scripture, that any of the Persons mentioned as true Prophets, were ever subject to these
Ecstatic, convulsive
Motions, which the enthusiastic Gentleman and his Tribe were always seized with. As to the Regulation made by the Apostle PAUL; whoever consults the Place
1
Corinth.
c. xiv.
will find, there is no Mention made of
Ecstasies, Convulsions,
or extraordinary
bodily Motions.
And 'tis clear, that our Saviour always delivered his Prophecies on every
incidental
Occasion, under all the
common Circumstances
of human Life;
calm, serene,
and with
unaffected Deliberation.
So that the whole Charge is a bold, continued Falshood, void of Truth, and even the Appearance of it.
INDEED, from the Instances which the noble Writer cites from VIRGIL and LIVY, 'tis evident that the old
heathen Pretenders
to Prophecy were affected in the same
convulsive
Manner, as the
modern Christian
Enthusiasts. His Lordship might have cited twenty more from ancient Writers. And what can be rationally inferred from them? What but this—
"That this
convulsive
Agitation
of the bodily Organs is a Circumstance that effectually
betrays Enthusiasm;
and distinguisheth it from the real
Inspirations
recorded in
holy Writ.
"
THESE are the Circumstances in which Enthusiasm will generally
seem
to
resemble
real Inspiration: tho' on a nearer Scrutiny, these very Circumstances will always
detect
it. We come now to enumerate those other Qualities peculiar to Enthusiasm, in which it bears no Resemblance to divine Inspiration, and in which they are, at first View, clearly distinguished from each other. And here it is remarkable, that, as the noble Writer
dwells
on the
former,
so he scarce ever
touches
on these following Characters of
clear distinction.
This peculiar Conduct can hardly be judged
accidental:
For a Man of Wit can easily improve a
partial
Resemblance into a
complete
one: But to have added other
Features,
of absolute
Dissimilarity,
would have weakened the
Likeness,
and consequently have disgraced the
intended Representation.
THE chief Qualities, which clearly, and at first View, distinguish
Enthusiasm
from divine
Inspiration,
I find enumerated by the fine Writer of
the Letter on St. Paul's Conversion.
These are,
"
Heat
of Temper,
Melancholy, Credulity, Self-Conceit,
and
Ignorance.
"
So far as these relate to St. PAUL, the Reader is referred to the excellent Work here cited. 'Tis our Part to consider them as they may affect our Saviour, and the rest of his Apostles. And a brief Consideration may suffice: For all (except the last) are so repugnant to their Characters, that the very Mention of them refutes the Imputation.
WITH Regard to the first of these Qualities,
"uncommon Heat of Temper,"
'tis of all others most abhorrent from our
Saviour's
Character. He is every where sedate, cool, and unmoved, even under the most bitter Circumstances of Provocation
See Dr.
Law's
Life of
Christ:
Where his Character is described at large.
: He every where appears a perfect Model of Benevolence, Meekness, and mild Majesty. The same Temper generally prevails among his Apostles: More particularly we may observe of the
Evangelists,
who are the
immediate Evidences,
that in their Writings they discover the most perfect
Coolness.
Had they been of a fiery Disposition, they had not failed to load the Enemies of their crucified Lord, with the bitterest
Sarcasms.
WITH as little Reason can
Melancholy
be charged on the Founders of Christianity. Our
Saviour
came,
"eating and drinking:"
So entirely
open, unreserved,
and
social,
that he was branded by his Enemies, as
a Friend of Publicans and Sinners.
Another Circumstance, besides the Passion for
Solitude,
hath ever distinguished
Melancholy:
That is,
"an
Over-Fondness
and
Desire
to
suffer
in the apprehended Cause of Truth, beyond the just and rational
Ends of Suffering.
"
Now this is diametrically opposite to the Character of our Saviour and his Apostles: For even JESUS himself was in an
Agony
at the Apprehension of his approaching Sufferings. So far were his Disciples from being tainted with this Melancholy, that they discovered
unmanly Fear;
for
they all forsook him and fled.
'Tis true, they afterwards endured the severest Trials with unshaken Constancy; yet still, with the
resigned
Spirit of
Martyrs;
not the
Eagerness
and
fanatic Vaunts
of all known
Enthusiasts
For a remarkable Instance of this, see a Story relating to SAVANOROLA.
Charact. Misc.
ii. c. 1. in the Notes.
.
THE Charge of
Credulity
hath no better Foundation. To our Saviour himself it is in it's very Nature utterly
inapplicable.
His Disciples have been often charged with
Credulity.
But on impartial Examination it will appear, that the Charge is groundless. For this is an unvarying Circumstance in the Credulity of an Enthusiast,
"that it never admits a Doubt."
But it is evident from the united Accounts of the Gospel-History, that they osten, nay always
doubted
of our Saviour's
Death,
tho' himself foretold it. 'Tis equally evident, they not only doubted of, but almost disbelieved his Resurrection, till overcome by irresistible Evidence. These Circumstances afford another collateral Proof, that the Apostles were not Enthusiasts: Because it is essentially of the Nature of Enthusiasm,
"to run on headlong in the
open
Channel of the
First conceived Opinion.
"
Now 'tis evident, they
changed
their
first Opinion
concerning the
temporal
Dominion of CHRIST, into the firm Belief of his
Death, Resurrection,
and
spiritual
Kingdom: We cannot therefore justly charge them with that
Credulity,
which is the Characteristic of
Enthusiasm
See this Point treated with great Particularity of Proof, in a Pamphlet intitled, "
A Discourse proving that the Apostles were no Enthusiasts.
" By
A. Campbel,
S. T. P.
.
THE next Circumstance,
Self-Conceit,
which hath ever been one of the most distinguishing Qualities of Enthusiasm, is so distant from the Character of JESUS and his
Apostles,
that it hath never, I believe, been laid to their Charge. The Enthusiast is perpetually boasting of immediate
Converse
and
Communication
with the
Deity;
and overflows with a Contempt of all, who are not of his own System. In our Saviour we discover the most unfeigned
Humility
and
Compassion
towards all Men. When urged to shew his
Pretensions
to a divine Mission, so far is he from resolving them into
inward Feelings, Impulses,
or
Notices
from God (the constant Practice of every Enthusiast) that, on the contrary, he calmly appeals to his Works and Doctrines
Mat.
vii. 16.
; adding, in a Strain the
Reverse
of all
Enthusiasm,
that
"in what we bear Witness only to ourselves, our Witness cannot be established as a Truth
John
v. 31.
."
The same Turn of Mind appears in the Apostles. They affect no Superiority themselves, nor express or discover any Contempt or
spiritual Pride
with Regard to others.
THE last Quality common to Enthusiasts, is that of
Ignorance.
This hath been sometimes charged on our Saviour himself: often on his Apostles with an Air of Triumph. But so it is, that
seeming Objections
against Truth become often the
strongest Evidence
in Support of it. This will eminently appear in the present Case, if we consider
"that Ignorance or Want of Letters, when joined with Enthusiasm, must always produce the most
inconsistent
Visions,
whimsical
Conduct, and
pernicious
Doctrines."
These Effects,
Ignorance
and
Enthusiasm
have wrought wherever they appeared, in every Age and Nation. Nor can it indeed be otherwise: For a
lettered
Enthusiast may be supposed to have an
internal Balance,
which must in some Degree
counteract
and
regulate
his Visions; while the
unlettered
is subject to no Controul, but must become the Sport and Prey to the
delirious
Flights of an
unreined Imagination.
NOW, that the Apostles and Evangelists were
unlearned,
must needs be granted: And tho' the noble Writer hath taken upon him to deride them on this Account; yet this very Circumstance, compared with their Conduct and Writings, clears them at once from the Charge of Enthusiasm. So far were they from the
ravings
of this Passion, common to all
ignorant
Enthusiasts, that we may defy the Enemies of
Christianity
to produce any Instance either of Speech or Practice, that hath the smallest Tincture of
Extravagance.
Their Conduct was regular and exemplary; their Words were
the Words of Truth and Soberness.
AS to the Charge of Ignorance against our Saviour, the Enemies of Christianity have been more
cautious:
Yet it hath been insinuated. And indeed, that he had not the common Aids of
human Learning,
is not only
acknowledged,
but
insisted
on. Could
ignorant
and
blind Enthusiasm
then have produced the sublime
religious Doctrines
and
moral Precepts
which the Evangelists have
recorded
from his Mouth? With as much Truth it might be affirmed that the
Creation
is the Produce of
Chance.
With Reason then may we ask the noble Writer this Question,
"Whence then had this Man
such Wisdom,
seeing he spake as never Man spake?"
And the Answer sure is
one
only,
"That as it was not from
Man,
it must have been from GOD."
For even the Enemies of Christianity have born Witness to it's Excellence, even when they intended to disgrace it: While with fruitless Labour they have attempted to prove,
"that the most exalted
Truths
and
Precepts
of the
Gospel
may be found
scattered
among the Writings of the
heathen Sages.
"
FROM these concurrent Circumstances, therefore, we obtain a full
internal Proof,
that the
Founders of Christianity
were not
Enthusiasts,
as the noble Writer hath, by the most laboured and repeated Insinuations, attempted to represent them.
SECTION VI.
SINCE therefore we have appealed to the
religious
and
Moral
Doctrines of
Christianity,
as a concurrent Proof of it's
divine Original;
it will be necessary now to examine what the noble Writer hath alledged or suggested against this most
essential
Part of our Religion.
AND first, it appears from the general Turn of the
Characteristics,
that the noble Author regards
religious Establishments
as being quite at a distance from
Philosophy
and
Truth,
with which he tells us, in ancient Times they never interfered: He therefore derides every Attempt to make them
coalesce.
Thus he tells us,
"Not only
Visionaries
and
Enthusiasts
of all Kinds were tolerated by the Ancients; but, on the other Side, Philosophy had as free a Course, and was permitted as a Balance against Superstition.—Thus Matters were happily balanced; Reason had fair Play; Learning and Science flourished. Wonderful was the Harmony and Temper which arose from all these
Contrarieties
Let. on Enthus.
."
Such therefore being his Lordship's Idea of a
public Religion,
which he ever opposes to
private Opinion
and Philosophy; 'tis no Wonder he should insinuate the Folly of Christianity, which promiseth to all it's Proselytes,
"that they shall know the
Truth,
and the Truth shall make them
free.
"
BUT notwithstanding the noble Writer's Partiality to the System of ancient Paganism, which he had deeply imbibed from his familiar Converse with ancient Writers; no unprejudiced Mind can hesitate a Moment, in determining the superior Excellence of the
Christian
Religion, compared with these
well-meant,
but defective Schemes of
heathen Policy.
For, as gross Error, and Misapprehension of the divine Nature and Attributes, was deeply interwoven with ancient Paganism; so, 'tis well known, that in Fact, the most horrid Enormities were committed
upon Principle,
under the Authority and Example of their pretended Gods. Lord SHAFTESBURY himself owns, what indeed it were folly to deny, that the
Imitation
of the
Deity
is a
powerful
Principle of Action
Enq. on Virtue.
. If so, it follows, that to communicate a just Idea of the divine Perfections to all Mankind, must tend to
secure
their
Virtue,
and
promote
their
Happiness.
'Tis therefore equally
ungenerous
and
impolitic,
to suffer Mankind to live in
Ignorance
and
Idolatry.
Hence 'tis evident, that
Reformations
in Religion are not the ridiculous Things his Lordship would represent them; and that
Christianity,
if indeed it
reveals
the
Truth,
is a Religion in it's Tendency much more
beneficial
to Mankind than ancient
Paganism.
'TIS no difficult Task to assign the original Cause of this so different and even
opposite Genius
of the
pagan
Systems from that of
Christianity.
In early and ignorant Ages, the Necessity of religious Belief and religious Establishments was seen by the Leaders of Mankind: On this Account they instituted the most
salutary
Forms and Doctrines, which their unexperienced Reason could suggest. As Nations grew wiser and more polished, they saw the Weakness and Absurdity of these established Systems; but thro' a Regard, and perhaps a
mistaken
one, to the
public Good,
were unwilling to discover these Defects and Absurdities to the People. Hence probably the Rise of
exoteric
and
esoteric
Doctrines. For the furthest that human Policy dared to go, was to reveal the Truth to a
few initiated;
While the Bulk of Mankind, even in the
wisest
and politest
Ages,
continued the
Dupes
to the
Prejudices
and
Superstitions
of the most
ignorant
ones. On the contrary, it was a main Design of the Christian Dispensation, to dispel this Cloud of Ignorance, which excluded Mankind from all Participation of
divine Truth;
to reveal those just and sublime Ideas of the
Divinity,
which are the noblest, as they are the surest Foundation, not only of
Piety
but of
Morals:
And which, so far as they can affect either
Piety
or
Morals
(such is the Triumph of
Christianity
over the laboured Researches of
false Wisdom
) are no less
intelligible
to the
Peasant
than the
Philosopher.
On this Account, Christianity was perfect (
relatively
perfect) in it's first Delineation: All Attempts to change or add to its Doctrines, have but discovered their own Absurdity: And Experience every Day more and more convinceth us, that the only Method of obtaining a pure and uncorrupt System of practical Religion and moral Precepts, is to search for them in the uncommented Pages of the Gospel.
THUS, what was the Effect of
Necessity
among the
Heathens,
the noble Writer very partially attributes to
Choice:
He mistakes a
Defect
for an
Excellence:
And blindly prefers the Weakness of
Man,
to the Wisdom of GOD.
ANOTHER Cavil frequently urged or insinuated by his Lordship against
Christianity,
seems to have been the natural Consequence of the last-mentioned. He much admires the Pagan Religions, as having been
sociable,
and mutually
incorporated
into each other: And often represents
Christianity,
as of an
unsociable, surly,
and
solitary
Complexion, tending to
destroy
every other but itself. The Consequence of this, he tells us, hath been a
"new Sort of Policy, which extends itself to another World, and hath made us leap the Bounds of natural Humanity; and out of a
supernatural Charity,
has taught us the Way of plaguing one another most devoutly
Let. on Enthu.
."
Now with Regard to this pretended
unsociable
Temper of
Christianity;
it must be owned indeed, that our Religion tends to swallow up and destroy every other, in the same Manner as
Truth
in every Subject tends to destroy
Falsehood:
That is, by
rational Conviction.
The same Objection might be urged against the
Newtonian Philosophy,
which destroyed the
Cartesian Fables:
Or against the
Copernican System,
because the clumsy
Visions
of
Ptolemy and Tycho-Brahe
vanished before it. The same might be urged against the Usefulness, of the great
Source of Day,
because it
dims
and
extinguishes
every inferior Lustre: For the glimmering Lamps of human Knowledge, lighted up by the Philosophers, served indeed to conduct them as
a Light shining in a dark Place;
but these must naturally be sunk in a superior Lustre, when
the Sun of Righteousness should arise.
The Gospel therefore is so far
unsociable,
as to discredit
Error;
and is incompatible with
this,
as
Light
with
Darkness:
But not so
unsociable,
as to
compel
the erroneous. As to the religious Debates, then, which Christianity hath occasioned, and the Wars and Massacres consequent upon them, which the noble Writer so justly detests; Christianity stands clear of the Charge, till it can be shewn that it countenanceth the inhuman Principle of Intolerance: And this, it's bitterest Enemies can never do 'Tis true, that if we be so irrational as to take our Idea of Christianity from the Representations of Enthusiasts and Bigots, nothing can appear more absurd and mischevious: As, in like Manner, if we consider the
Heavens
under the perplexed Revolutions and malignant Aspects of the old Astronomers and Astrologers, nothing can be more unworthy either of divine Wisdom or Goodness. But how can these false
Images
affect the noble
Simplicity,
and
Benignity
of the
Gospel,
or the
Solar System?
To the
Works
and the
Word
of God, we must repair, for a true Idea of their undisguised Perfection: And there we shall read their divine Author, in the brightest Characters of Wisdom and Goodness. So far therefore is Christianity from encouraging Wars and Massacres, on Account of a Difference in Opinion, that it's divine Founder hath expressly warned his Followers against the Suggestions of this horrid Temper
Luke
ix.
: Nor can these fatal Consequences ever arise among
Christians,
till they have divested themselves of
Christian Charity,
and
Ib.
mistaken the very Principles of their Profession.
BUT the noble Writer proceeds to still more bitter Invectives, if possible, against
Christianity.
For he often insinuates, that the Prospect of Happiness and Misery in another Life, revealed in the Gospel, tends to the Destruction of all
true Virtue
Wit and H.
p. ii. § 3.
. Indeed we cannot much Wonder that his Lordship should treat Christianity in this Manner, when we consider what he hath thrown out against Religion in general, in this Respect. These Cavils have already been considered at large: Whatever therefore he hath insinuated against our Religion in
particular,
will naturally be refer'd to, and effectually be refuted by these more
general
Observations
See above,
Ess.
ii. § 9.
. However, there are two or three Passages on this Subject so remarkable, that they may seem to deserve a separate Consideration.
AFTER having ridiculed and branded Christianity, as destroying the
disinterested
Part of Virtue, he tells us
"The
Jews
as well as Heathens were left to their Philosophy to be instructed in the sublime Part of Virtue, and induced by
Reason
to that which was never enjoyn'd them by Command. No Premium or Penalty being inforced in these Cases, the disinterested Part subsisted, the Virtue was a free Choice, and the Magnanimity of the Act was left intire
Wit. and H.
p. ii. § 3.
."
HERE, again, the noble Writer hath got to his
Peculiarities.
What other Title this Passage may deserve, we shall soon discover. For, first, supposing his Assertion true, what he notes in the
Jewish
and
Heathen
Religions as an
Excellence,
had certainly been a
Defect.
For are not
Hottentots,
wild
Indians,
and
Arabs,
"left to their Philosophy, to be induced by Reason to that which was never enjoined them by Command? No Premium or Penalty being inforced in these Cases, the disinterested Part subsists, the Virtue is a free Choice, and the Magnanimity of the Act is left entire."
Thus the noble Writer would again debase us into Savages
See above,
Essay
ii. § 10.
; and, rather than not disgrace Christianity, would put the State of
Palestine, Greece,
and
Rome,
on a Level with that of the
Cape of Good Hope: Blindly
(or shall we say,
knowingly?
) disparaging, what he elsewhere so justly applauds,
"Laws, Constitutions, civil and RELIGIOUS Rites, whatever
civilizes
or
polishes
rude Mankind
Moralists,
Part i. § 3.
."
BUT in Fact, neither the JEWS nor
civilized Heathens
were ever tainted with this
Phrenzy.
They saw the Necessity of religious Belief; and as they saw it's Necessity, so they inforced it. With Regard to the JEWS, the noble Writer contradicts himself within the Compass of ten Lines: For there he says,
"their Religion taught no future State, nor exhibited any Rewards or Punishments,
besides such as were temporal.
"
This is the very Truth. Here then he owns a
temporal Sanction
of Premium and Penalty,
Reward
and
Punishment:
Yet in the Passage above cited, and which stands close by the other in the Original, he says,
"there was no Premium or Penalty inforced, no Reward or Punishment!"
His Lordship deals as
fairly
and
consistently
by the civilized Heathens: For, could he indeed have forgot the distinguished Rank, which, in the
Elysian Fields,
was assigned to those who
fell
to save
their Country?
Hic
Manus
ob PATRIAM pugnando vulner a passi—
Omnibus his nivea cinguntur tempora vitta
Eneid.
lib. vi.
.
AND now let the Impartial determine, whether the noble Writer's Observation hath more of
Sagacity
or of
Truth
in it.
BUT the Christian Doctrines relating to an
hereafter,
are to undergo a yet severer
Inquisition
from the noble Writer: They are to be tortured and
mangled
on the
Rack,
of
Wit
shall I say, or of
Buffoonry?
"The Misfortune is, we are seldom taught to comprehend this SELF, by placing it in a distinct View from it's Representative or
Counterfeit.
In our
holy
Religion, which, for the greatest Part, is adapted to the very meanest Capacities, 'tis not to be expected that a Speculation of this Kind should be openly advanced. 'Tis enough that we have Hints given us of a
nobler
SELF, than that which is commonly supposed the Basis and Foundation of our Actions.
Self-Interest
is there taken as it is vulgarly conceived—In the same Manner as the celestial Phaenomena are in the sacred Volumes generally treated according to common Imagination, and the then current System of Astronomy and natural Science; so the moral Appearances are in many Places preserved without Alteration, according to
Vulgar Prejudice.
—Our real and genuine
Self
is sometimes supposed that
ambitious
one, which is fond of Power and Glory; sometimes that
childish
one, which is taken with
vain Shew,
and is to be invited to Obedience by Promise of
finer Habitations, precious Stones,
and
Metals,
shining
Garments, Crowns,
and other such
dazling Beauties,
by which another Earth, or material City is represented
Solil.
Part iii. § 1.
."
THIS Passage contains two insinuated Charges of a very different Nature. The one is
true,
but no
Objection:
The other would indeed be an
Objection,
but that it is absolutely
groundless.
'Tis true
"that our Religion is for the greatest Part adapted to the very meanest Capacities; and that the celestial Phaenomena are in the sacred Volumes generally treated according to
common Imagination,
" &c.
And would the noble Writer indeed have had it otherwise? Would he indeed have had them spoken of, according to the Philosophical Construction of the Universe, rather than the received Notions of Mankind? With how little Reason, we may soon be convinced, if we consider, First, that the
End
of
Revelation
was not to make Mankind Proficients in Philosophy, since the Situation of the Generality can never admit it: And had the Scriptures supposed this, (as indeed such a Conduct would have supposed it) this very Circumstance had been an Argument of their Falsehood. Secondly, even Philosophers themselves, tho' intimately acquainted with the Construction of the Universe, do still
descend
to the
Level of Mankind,
when they speak of the Phaenomena of Nature: The
Sun sets
and
rises,
as it did three thousand Years ago: The
Moon changes, wains,
is
new,
and
old:
The
Stars
are
in the Firmament,
the
Sun
still
rules the Day,
and the
Moon
the
Night.
The Reason is evident: Because
astronomical Discoveries
have not the least Influence on the
Practice of Mankind:
Because, altho' the
natural Appearances
of things are merely
relative
to the
Imagination only,
yet they are, for that very Reason, necessary to be referred to, as the
Imagination
is the great
universal Instrument
of
Life
and human
Action.
AN Objection therefore to the Scriptures on this Account, betrays either a gross
Misapprehension
of human Nature, or the most unpardonable
Insincerity;
yet we find Objections of this kind frequently urged: as if, because the sacred Penmen were impowered by God to reveal to us a certain Measure of
religious
and
moral
Truth, suited to our present State, they must therefore be endued with
Omniscience;
in order to make all Men not only
good Subjects,
but good
Astronomers
too!
BUT tho' it were
Folly
to object against the
sacred Penmen,
because they appear not to have been
omniscient;
yet I cannot conclude this Argument, without producing a remarkable Instance, wherein their very
Ignorance
of these
speculative
and
unnecessary
Truths
becomes a convincing Proof of their VERACITY: A Circumstance which much more nearly concerns us. We read in the Book of
Joshua,
"And he said in the Sight of
Israel,
SUN, stay thou in
Gibeon,
and
thou
MOON, in the Valley of
Ajalon:
And the
Sun abode,
and THE MOON STOOD STILL,—and hasted not to go down for a whole Day
Joshua
x.
."
Here, the
standing still
of these Luminaries is related in such a Manner as concurs with the common Appearances of things; and yet consists with the best Discoveries in Astronomy, tho' unknown to the Writer. For we are now assured that, if
the Sun stood still,
it must have been by suspending the diurnal Rotation of the Earth: The
standing still of the Moon
was therefore the
necessary Consequence.
This the Writer appears not to have known: Yet he relates the
Fact,
tho' it was of no Importance with Regard to that Event for which the Miracle was wrought. It is therefore of singular Force in proving the
Veracity of the Writer,
because, had it not been true in Fact, it is
a Circumstance which could never have occurr'd to him.
THE noble Writer's other Charge relating to the
moral Representations
of the Scriptures, would indeed be of Weight, if it were founded in Truth: But so far from this, that he hath utterly
reversed
the Fact. For in Reality, these
sensible
Representations of
visible
Beauty and Glory, are only
occasionally
or
accidentally
hinted; while the whole
Weight
and
Energy
of the
Gospel
is employed in inforcing the Idea of
moral Perfection,
of our
nobler
SELF, of
Self-Interest
in the
higher
Sense, of the Necessity of extirpating every meaner Passion, and cherishing the great one of
unbounded Love,
as the necessary and only Discipline that can qualify us for future Happiness. 'Tis evident that the noble Writer lays the principal Stress of his Charge, on the
Apocalypse;
a Work in it's whole Turn
strictly allegorical,
and therefore necessarily conversant in
Imagery
and
visible Representation.
To this he hath most
perversly
added a figurative Expression of St. PAUL, who writing to a People among whom the
Prize-Races
prevailed, represents the Christian
Progress
as a
Contest
of this Kind; and shews it's Superiority over the Former,
"because, saith he, they labour to obtain a
corruptible,
but we an
incorruptible Crown.
"
In the mean Time he hath omitted the many
Discourses, Parables, Maxims,
of our Saviour, in which he perpetually exhorts his Disciples to endeavour after unfeigned Virtue and universal Benevolence, as the only Means that can bring them to future
Perfection.
He hath forgot too the repeated Exhortations of St. PAUL, who sets CHARITY so high above every other Gift or Possession, and adds, the Reason of it's Preheminence,
"because it shall never fail."
'Tis true indeed, as the noble Writer observes (with what Intention, 'tis no difficult Matter to determine)
"that our holy Religion is for the greatest Part adapted to the very meanest Capacities:"
We may add,
"and to the very worst of Dispositions too."
And 'tis one of it's chief Glories, that it is so. Therefore we find it inforcing
every Motive
that can work on
every Mind:
Which must surely be acknowledged as the Character of
the Religion
that should come from him
who knew what was in Man.
But if the noble Writer would further insinuate, that the Idea of future Happiness ought to be
confined
to that of
virtuous
Enjoyment, whereas the
Christian
Religion doth not so
confine
it; we have already seen, that, from the Nature of things, this Refinement is
visionary
and
groundless
See above,
Essay
ii. § 9.
."
WE now come to the Examination of a Passage more
extraordinary
and
original
than any yet produced. The noble Writer tells us,
"I could be almost tempted to think, that the true Reason why some of the most
heroic Virtues
have so little Notice taken of them in our
holy Religion,
is, because there would have been no Room left for
Disinterestedness,
had they been entitled to a Share of that infinite Reward, which Providence has
by Revelation
assigned to other Duties.
Private Friendship,
and
Zeal
for the
Public
and
our Country,
are Virtues purely
voluntary
in a
Christian.
They are no essential
Parts
of his
Charity.
He is not so tied to the Affairs of
this Life;
nor is he obliged to enter into such Engagements with this
lower World,
as are of
no Help
to him in acquiring a
better.
His
Conversation
is in
Heaven.
Nor has he Occasion for such
supernumerary Cares
and Embarrassments here on Earth, as may
obstruct his Way
thither, or retard him in the careful Task of working out his own Salvation
Wit. and H.
Part ii. § 3.
."
WE have already seen, that the real Nature of Virtue consists
"in procuring or promoting the greatest public Happiness:"
And that this Truth is often,
occasionally,
acknowledged by Lord
Shaftesbury
himself. Consequently, the
highest
or most
heroic Virtue,
is that which tends to
accomplish
this great
End:
Nor can any
pretended
Virtue be either
great
or
heroic
that tends to
obstruct
or
destroy it.
ON this plain Principle, self-evident to unbyassed
Reason,
let us examine the Passage now before us. And first, as to
private Friendship,
which, the noble Writer says,
"is a Virtue purely voluntary in a Christian:"
—Let us consider how far it may be regarded as a Virtue
at all.
—Now, on strict Enquiry we shall find, that the extreme Degree of Friendship recommended and applauded by the Ancients, and here patronized by the noble Author, is essentially
repugnant
to
true Virtue:
In
Friendship
they placed the
Chief Happiness:
—And if this consists in the supreme Love of
one,
it must needs
diminish,
if not
extinguish,
the Love of
all;
because our chief or whole
Attention
must be
employed,
our every
View
and
Design centered
in giving Pleasure or
procuring
Happiness
to one
Individual.
And this is the very fairest Light it can be view'd in.
FOR we shall further see, how little it generally partakes of the Nature of true Virtue, if we consider whence it hath it's Rise. This is universally allowed to be
"a Similarity of
Disposition, Will,
and
Manners.
"
This Circumstance demonstrates, that in general it must be
contrary
to Virtue: For hence, the
general
Good must be often sacrificed to gratify the Will of
one.
Of this dreadsul Effect, Instances might be produced almost innumerable. Let one suffice.
"Between TIBERIUS GRACCHUS and C. BLOSIUS, a
dear and perfect Friendship
subsisted: The latter being seized for aiding the former in his Conspiracy, was brought before the
Consuls.
He pleaded his Friendship to GRACCHUS in Excuse for his Crime."
He was then asked,
"What, suppose he had bid you
fire the Capitol,
would you have done it?"
To this he boldly replied,
"He never would have laid me under such a Necessity; but if he had,
I would have obey'd him
Cic.
Laelius.
."
A
thorough Friend
sure: But a
vile Citizen;
notwithstanding the artful Gloss of an ingenious Modern, who hath attempted to make out the Innocence of his Intentions
See Montaigne's
Essay
on this Subject.
.
'TIS true, the Advocates for this
Attachment
sometimes assert, that it cannot consist but with
Virtue.
That it
ought not,
is certain: That it
cannot,
or
doth not,
is a groundless Conceit; unless they chuse to make this Circumstance a Part of the Definition, which were idle Sophistry. But if by Friendship be meant, what indeed is always meant,
"a violent Love and Attachment to another on Account of a Similarity of Manners;"
this, 'tis certain, hath often, nay most commonly subsisted without Virtue: Among
Savages, Robbers, Heroes,
and
Banditti.
In LUCIAN's Tract on Friendship we find, that out of Twelve notable Instances alledged, near half the Number were supported at the Expence of
Justice
or
Humanity;
either by the Commission of Rapine, Adultery, or Murder, or by aiding the Escape of those who ought to have suffered for these enormous Crimes. Will any one alledge the Emperor TIBERIUS or his Favourite SEJANUS as Patterns of Virtue? Yet their Friendship was so remarkable, that, in Honour of it, Altars were dedicated to
Friendship
by a
senatorial Decree.
Nay, some of the applauded Instances appealed to, by the noble Author in his Comment on this Passage, are even notorious in this Respect. Such were THESEUS and PIRITHOUS, equally remarkable for
Friendship, Rapes,
and
Plunder.
And such Instances may still be found in every
savage
Country; where the strongest Friendships are commonly formed: Where Men thus
leagued,
go upon bold Adventures; and hazard and give up Life for each other without Reluctance, while they
ravish
their Neighbours
Wives,
and
carry off
their
Cattle.
With as little Reason can it be urged, that Friendships in general are
disinterested,
so as to aspire to the Name of
Merit.
For
Merit,
if it exists, can only arise from
Virtue:
And Virtue, we have seen, doth not essentially belong to Friendship. Nay, in LUCIAN's Tract, 'tis warmly debated between the contending Parties, whether
Affection
or
private Advantage
hath a more considerable Share in this applauded
Union.
Indeed the
civilized
and haughty
Greek
stands upon the Punctilio of
Honour,
and piques himself on the Notion of
Disinterest:
But the
undisguised Scythian
insists that mutual
Advantage and Support
are the ruling
Motives.
However, in Conclusion they fairly agree, in comparing a set of fast Friends to GERYON with
three Heads
and
six Hands,
enabled thro' this Increase of Strength, to overturn all Opposition
Luciani
Toxaris.
. But suppose
Affection
the ruling Principle, as unquestionably it often is; where is the
Merit,
while
confined
to
one
Person? Nay, it must rather lean towards
Demerit,
because it appears, 'tis rather
dangerous
than
favourable
to
public Affection
and
Virtue.
'Tis evident then, that the
friendly Affection
is no more
meritorious
than the
conjugal, paternal,
or
filial Affection;
which being of a
contracted
Nature, are often consistent with great Baseness of Mind, and destructive of a more enlarged Benevolence
Thus a Writer of distinguished Abilities:
"Many Instances occur in History and daily Experience, of Men, not ashamed to commit base and selfish Enormities, who have retained a Tenderness for their Posterity by the strong and generous Instinct of Nature. The Story of
Licinius Macer,
who was Father to
Calvus
the great Orator, is very remarkable, as related by a Roman Annalist. Having gone thro' the Office of Praetor, and governed a Province, he was accused, upon returning Home, of Extortion and Abuses of his Power. The very Morning of his Tryal he strangled himself, after having sent Word to
Cicero,
who was preparing to plead against him, that, being determined to put an End to his Life before Sentence (tho' the Penalty did not extend to taking it away) the Prosecution could not go on, and his Fortune would be saved to the Benefit of his Son."—
Considerations on the Law of Forfeiture,
p. 32.
. And what Degree of
Merit
or
Disinterest
there is in Regards of this Nature, when separate from more extensive ones, we may learn from the noble Writer himself, who says,
"there is a
Selfishness
in the Love that is paid to a
Wife,
and in the Attendance on a
Family,
and all the little Affairs of it, which, had I my full Scope of Action in the Public, I should hardly have submitted to
Ld. S's
Let. to Mr. Molesworth,
Let. ix.
:"
SO far then is clear, That
Friendship,
or
"a violent Affection founded on a Similarity of Disposition and Manners,"
is more likely to produce
Vice
than
Virtue;
as it tends to fix such Habits of Mind as must lessen our Concern for the
general Good.
And in Fact, every one's Experience will point out to him Numbers of Men, naturally benevolent
to all,
but so strongly byassed and
drawn in
by
particular
Attachments, that their
Regards
and
Beneficence
are centered wholly on a
select Few;
while the rest of Mankind pass unheeded and unassisted, and have no Share in their Benevolence, further than what
Self-Deceit
throws out, in
unmeaning Wishes
for their Welfare.
'TIS no less evident, that, thro' the natural Advantages of this partial Alliance, Mankind must ever be prone to embrace it, in Exclusion of more extensive Affections, where no such Advantages can follow. It would therefore have been a
Defect
in the
Christian
Religion, to have enjoined or even recommended it in this Extreme. Accordingly we find, in the Gospel, every Attachment of this Kind, however natural and alluring it may be, set very little above the
lowest Selfishness,
and justly represented as entirely consistent with it.
"If ye do do good to them which do good to you, what thank have ye? Do not the Publicans even the same
Mat.
v.
?
BESIDES; there is something so extraordinary in the noble Writer's Scheme of
"enjoying Friendship,"
as sufficiently exposeth it's own Weakness. Friendship, his Lordship allows, can only arise
"from a Consent and Harmony of Minds
In the Note.
."
How then could Christianity have
enjoyned
us the Practice of this
supposed
Virtue? What must it have
enjoyned
us? Why, to
go in Quest
of a
Mind
resembling our own. It might with equal Propriety have enjoyned us to go in Quest of a
Face
resembling our own: And with as much Reason, for all the Purposes of
true Virtue.
BUT if by
Friendship
be meant, what indeed is
not
generally meant,
"A particular Love and Esteem for the virtuous or worthy,"
in which Sense alone it can have any Tendency to produce true Virtue; then we may justly affirm, that it is recommended in the Gospel, both by
Example
and by
Precept.
It is naturally involved in that all-comprehensive Command of
universal Charity:
For tho' many have been zealous in their Friendships, while they were insensible to publick Affection; yet, such is the Temperament of human Nature, that no Instance was ever known, of a Man zealous for the Happiness
of all,
yet remiss in or incapable of a
true Friendship
for
the worthy.
It is recommended by St. PAUL, who says, that
"peradventure for a
good Man,
one would even
dare to die.
"
It is recommended by our Saviour's Example, who selected a beloved Disciple as his bosom
Friend,
whose Writings are the overflowings of a Heart filled with the purest and most unbounded Love
St.
John.
." Above all, it is recommended by our Saviour in that noble and divine Passage;
"Who is my Mother or my Brethren? Even
he that doth the Will of my Father
which is in Heaven, he is my
Brother,
and
Sister,
and
Mother
Matt.
xii.
."
SO much for the spurious Virtue of
private Friendship:
Let us next consider the noble Writer's Charge against
Christianity,
on Account of it's not enjoyning
"a Zeal for the
Public
and our Country:"
For this too, it seems,
"is a Virtue purely
voluntary in a Christian.
"
Now all the Absurdities which load his Charge with Regard to
Friendship,
fall with equal Weight on this groundless Imputation. For if by
"Zeal for the Publick and our "Country,"
be meant, a Zeal that is inconsistent with the Rights and common Welfare of Mankind, 'tis so far from being a
Virtue,
that, as in the case of
Friendship,
it is really a
Crime,
because it tends to produce the most fatal Consequences. And an Army of victorious Warriors returning triumphant on this vile Principle, however graced with the flattering Title of
Heroes,
and Ensigns of
Glory,
are in Truth no better than a Band of
publick Robbers:
or, as our
great Poet,
a Christian and a Lover of Mankind, finely expresseth it,
An impious Crew
Of Men conspiring to uphold their State,
By worse than hostile Deeds; violating the Ends
For which our Country is a Name so dear
Sampson Agonistes.
.
Now 'tis evident beyond a Doubt, that at the Time when our Saviour appeared, this destructive
Partiality,
this avowed Conspiracy against the common Rights of Mankind was universally prevalent among the most civilized Nations. The JEWS were not exempted from this common Excess.
"
Inter ipsos Fides obstinata, adversus alios hostile Odium,
"
was their Character among the Heathens. The
Greeks
and
Romans
committed and boasted of the most cruel Enormities, conquered and inslaved innocent Nations, plundered Cities, and laid waste Kingdoms, thro' this absurd and
impious Love
of their
Country;
a Principle no better in many of it's Consequences, than the most horrid and accursed
Bigotry.
It had therefore been an essential Defect, nay rather a mischievous Absurdity, in the Christian Religion, to have enjoyned, encouraged, or countenanced a Partiality unjust in itself; to which, from Views of private Advantage, Mankind must ever be prone; and which, at the Time when Christianity began to spread, was indeed the reigning and
predominant Error.
BUT if by
"Zeal for the Publick and Love of our Country"
be meant, such a Regard to it's Welfare as shall induce us to sacrifice every View of private Interest for it's Accomplishment, yet still
in Subordination
to the
greater Law
of
universal Justice,
this is naturally, nay necessarily involved in the Law of
universal Charity.
The noble Writer indeed affirms,
"it is no essential Part of the Christian's Charity."
On the contrary it is a
chief Part
of the Christian's Charity. It comes nobly recommended by the Examples of JESUS and St PAUL: The one wept over the approaching Desolation of his Country: The other declared his Willingness to be cut off from the Christian Community, if by this Means he might save his Countrymen. And that it necessarily ariseth from the Principle of universal Love will be evident, if we consider the
Nature
and
Situation
of
Man.
His
Nature
is such, that he inevitably contracts the
strongest
Affection for those with whom he converseth most
intimately;
and whose
Manners
and
Relations, civil
and
religious,
are most nearly connected with
his own.
His
Situation
is such, that he seldom hath an Opportunity of doing good Offices to any Society of Men, save only those of his
own Country;
all others being naturally removed beyond the narrow Sphere of private Beneficence. Hence the great Precept of universal Charity doth essentially involve
"a Zeal for the Publick and Love of our Country:"
At once it
curbs
the
Exorbitance
of this natural Partiality, and
carries
it to it's full
Perfection.
THE Necessity of this great
Regulating
Principle will further appear, if we consider, that with Regard to the Conduct of separate States and Kingdoms towards each other, no Sanctions of human Law can ever take place. In this respect all Nations must ever be in a State of Nature. There was therefore a more particular Necessity, on this Account, of regulating their Conduct towards each other, by the great Law of
universal Charity.
IT may seem strange that the noble Writer should be ignorant of these Truths. But after the Imputations he hath here thrown on
Christianity,
it will surely appear
more strange
that he was
not ignorant
of them: And that these bitter Sarcasms were thrown out against the clear Convictions of his own Mind. Yet nothing is more evident, as will now appear. That he understood the Nature of
Christian Charity,
is indisputable: He defines it, and properly, in the Note annexed to the Passage here refer'd to. In another Place, he calls it
"the Principle of
Love,
the greatest Principle of our Religion
Moralists,
Part ii. § 3.
."
In a following Paragraph he calls it
"that divine Love which our Religion teaches
Ib.
."
But what is of all
most remarkable;
he sets it, under the new and whimsical Denominations of
Good-Nature
and
Friendship to Mankind,
far above
private
Friendship and Love of our
Country.
Take the Passages as they lie in the noble Writer.
"Can any
Friendship
be so
heroic,
as that towards
Mankind?
or
particular
Friendship well subsist, without such an enlarged Affection
Ib. § 1.
?"
Again.
"
Theocles
had almost convinced me, that to be a Friend to any one in particular, 'twas necessary first to be a Friend to Mankind
Ib. § 2.
."
Lastly, and above all.
"And can your
Country
and what is
more, your
KIND, require less Kindness from you, or deserve less to be consider'd, than even
one
of these
Chance-Creatures?—O Philocles,
how little do you know the Extent and Power of
Good-Nature,
and to what an
heroic Pitch
a Soul may
rise,
which knows the thorow Force of it;
and distributing it rightly,
frames in itself an
equal, just,
and
universal Friendship
Ib. § 1.
?"
Here then we see the former Paragraph utterly reversed. For
"
universal Love
is now the only
heroic
Principle:"
And
"
private Friendship
and the Love of
our Country
are only commendable, as they make
subordinate Parts
of it."
TO this astonishing and wilful Perversion of the Moral Principles of
Christianity,
we may add the subsequent Part of the same invenomed Paragraph. For he proceeds to
insinuate,
as if
Christian Charity
were no
active
Principle; but such as leads it's Proselytes to a State of mere
Contemplation
and
Inaction,
without Regard to
social
Life, and the Affairs of this
lower World.
We may defy the noble Writer's most zealous Admirers to find any other rational Construction for the following Passage.
"The Christian, he says, is not obliged to enter into such
Engagements
with this
lower World,
as are of no Help to him in acquiring
a better. His Conversation
is
in Heaven.
Nor has he Occasion for such
supernumerary Cares,
and
Embarrassments
here on Earth, as may
obstruct his Way
thither, or
retard
him in the
careful Task
of working out
his own Salvation.
"
Unexampled Prevarication! thrown out against that Religion which enjoyns an
active
Virtue, a
Regard
to the
present
Happiness of Man in
every possible Relation,
as the only Way to obtain Felicity hereafter: Against that Religion, whose
Founder
did not
idly harangue
in a
Closet
upon
Beauty, Virtue,
and
Decorum,
amidst the
Indolence
and
Pride
of Life; but
practised
the Divine
Truths
he
taught,
and
"
went about doing Good,
"
amongst the meanest and most despised of his Fellow Citizens.
TO be unmoved on this Occasion were
Stupidity;
not to confess it,
Cowardice. Error
should be exposed with
Calmness;
but
Dishonesty
merits our Abhorrence.
YET from these Cavils tho' groundless, and Misrepresentations tho'
voluntary,
we may draw an Observation which highly recommends
Christianity.
We may hence see the superior Excellence and Dignity of it's moral Precepts, above the most
applauded
among the Heathen: And how nobly, by one great Principle, it rectifies every little Partiality to which the human Heart is subject. For this is clear; that in one Age or Nation,
Friendship
hath been
idolized
as the supreme Virtue; in another,
Hospitality;
Indeed the noble Writer, pursuing the same kind Intention to Christianity, pretends that the Law of
Hospitality,
or
Regard
to
Strangers,
among the
ancient Heathens,
was
equivalent
(nay he gives a very disingenious Suggestion, as if it was far
superior
) to
Christian Charity.
"Such, says he, was ancient
Heathen Charity,
and pious Duty towards the whole of Mankind; both those of different Nations
and different Worships.
"
(Misc.
iii. c. 1.
in the Notes)
For Instances of this, he is forced to go back as far as
Homer,
who indeed hath given us some fine Pictures of ancient Manners of this kind, in his
Odyssey.
The noble Writer might have found others, in no Respect inferior, in the Old Testament, recorded long before
universal Charity
was ever thought of, in the Stories of
Abraham
and
Lot.
The Truth is the
Guest
or
Stranger
was held
sacred,
because he was under the
Protection
of his
Host:
It was therefore deemed
criminal,
to violate a
Trust
thus
reposed.
But it happens unfortunately for his Lordship's Argument, that in these Old Times
Rapine
and
Plunder
were as much in Vogue as either
Friendship
or
Hospitality,
and equally creditable. These
phantom
Appearances of
Virtue
are still to be seen in the
Arabian Deserts
as frequently as ever. If a Traveller comes to the Door of a wild
Arab's
Tent at Night, he is received with so boundless an
Hospitality,
that the
Host
would expose himself, his Wife, and Children to certain Destruction to save the Life of his
Guest.
Had this
hospitable Savage
met the Traveller in the Deserts at Noon, he would have
strip'd
him to the Skin, and on the least Resistance laid him
dead at his Feet.
And this was the true Extent of the noble Writer's boasted
Heathen Charity.
in a Third, the Love of our
Country;
in a Fourth, enthusiastic
Contemplation;
in a Fifth, the
Austerities
of the Hermit; in a Sixth, the
external Practice
of Religion; in a Seventh, which is the
fashionable
Peculiarity of
our own
Times,
occasional Acts
of Humanity and Compassion, while the more
extensive
and
Publick
Views of Beneficence are
neglected
or even
derided.
How different, how superior, is the great Christian Principle of
universal Love!
Which rising gradually, by a Progress thro' all the less enlarged Affections towards Parents, Children, Friends, Country, and spreading till it embraceth all Mankind, and every Creature that hath Life, forms that
perfect Virtue
in which human Weakness is most prone to be
defective,
and which implies and includes every moral Perfection.
Christianity
alone hath
kindled
in the Heart of Man this
vital
Principle; which
beaming
there as from a
Center,
like the great
Fountain
of
Light
and
Life
that sustains and chears the attendant Planets, renders it's Proselytes indeed
"
burning and shining Lights,
"
shedding their
kindly Influence
on all around them, in that just
Proportion,
which their
respective Distances
may demand.
SECTION VII.
THE preceding Remarks may sufficiently obviate every Cavil of the noble Writer against the
essential
Parts of
Christianity.
But as his Lordship hath casually interspersed several Random Insinuations, we must be content to receive them as they happen to appear, since they are of that disjointed Kind as to be incapable of Connection.
IN a marginal Note, he gives an Account of the Migration of the
Israelites
from
Egypt,
under the Conduct of MOSES. He thinks proper to reject the clear Account which the
Jewish Legislator
himself gives,
"That they departed, in order to worship the true God;"
and preposterously prefers what TACITUS and JUSTIN have said on that Subject; who affirm indeed, but without Proof,
"that the
Jews
were driven out of
Egypt
on Account of their
Leprosy
Misc.
ii. c. 1. Notes.
."
This Partiality might of itself appear
mysterious
enough, when we consider the particular and consistent Account given us by the very Leader of the Expedition: For, what should we think of the Man, who should prefer the random Conjectures of an ignorant Modern, to XENOPHON's
Retreat,
or CAESAR's
Commentaries?
But the noble Writer's Partiality will appear still more unaccountable, if we consider the following Passage of STRABO; a Writer as much beyond TACITUS in Candour, as beyond JUSTIN (if indeed JUSTIN and not TROGUS POMPEIUS, be answerable for this Slander) in true Judgement. This Author, STRABO, second to none in Antiquity, speaks thus:
"MOSES, an
Egyptian
Priest, retreated along with a number of
religious Followers.
For he affirmed and taught, that the
Egyptians
were mistaken, who imaged the Deity under the Forms of the Brute-Creation; as likewise the
Libyans
and
Greeks,
who represented the
Gods
under the
human Shape.
He held that alone to be
God,
which comprehends every living Creature, the Earth, and Sea; which is called
Heaven,
the
World,
or the
universal Nature;
whose
Image,
who that is in his right Mind, would dare to form out of any
earthly
Materials?
Rejecting
therefore all use of
Images,
he determined to dedicate to him a Temple worthy of his Nature, and worship him without Images.—On this Principle he persuaded and brought over many
welldisposed
Men, and led them forth into that Country
where now
Jerusalem
is built
Strabo, 1. xvi.
."
A noble Testimony, sure, from a Heathen Writer:
Less
he could not say, if he was well informed; and, unless he had embraced the
Jewish
Religion, he could not have said
more.
THERE is another Passage (
Misc.
v. c. 1.) which discovers somewhat of unfair dealing in the noble Writer. In the Margin, he prettily enough criticizes the Preface to St. LUKE's Gospel. But in the Text he hath paraphrased the Evangelist's Expression, in a Manner so distant from any thing St. LUKE either wrote or
meant,
as must not a little astonish every candid Reader. St. LUKE says,
"
It seemed good
to him to write in Order the Things that he knew."
To which the noble Writer adds,
"As there were many, it seems, long afterwards, who did; and undertook accordingly, to write in Order and
as seemed good to them, &c.
"
—What shall we say of the noble Writer on this Occasion? Why, this only;
"That inasmuch as it
seemed good to him
to interpret this Preface of St. LUKE, he therefore thought himself at Liberty to interpret it
as it seemed good to him.
"
THERE are three more Subjects which his Lordship hath thought fit to represent in the Manner which
seemed good to him.
These are, first, the divine Foreknowledge communicated to JOSEPH in the Interpretation of PHARAOH's Dreams. Secondly, the Rise of
Bigotry,
or religious
Intolerance
and
Persecution.
Thirdly, and principally, The Relation which the
Jewish
Institutions bear to the
Egyptian
See
Misc.
ii. c. 1.
. In all these, the noble Writer hath employed every Art of
Insinuation
and
Address,
that he might throw an Odium on the
Mosaic
Dispensation. These Passages might well merit a particular Consideration, had I not been happily prevented by my most learned Friend, who hath fully exposed their Weakness in that inestimable Treasure of all true Knowledge,
The divine Legation of
MOSES. Thither the Reader is reserr'd; where he will find these Questions treated with that
Reach
and
Mastery
so peculiar to the Author of that great Work
With Relation to the first of these Points, see the
Div. Leg.
Vol. ii p. 164. For the second, see
ib.
Book ii. § 6. For the third, see Book iv. § 6. passim.
.
IT may now be necessary to examine the third Chapter of the noble Writer's second Miscellany; where he makes it his Pretence,
"to prove the Force of
Humour
in Religion."
Of which it may be said, that it is the truest Piece of
Random-Work,
the most genuine
Farce,
that is perhaps to be met with in any Writer of whatever Age or Nation. He
divides
it (as every
Farce
ought to be
divided
) into three
Acts.
In its Progress we are carry'd into a very
Fairy-Land
of
Thought,
if not more properly a
confused Chaos.
For first, he sets about with great Solemnity to prove,
"that
Wit and Humour
are corroborative of Religion, and promotive of true Faith:"
To prove this, a Story is told, by which it appears, that
not Wit and Humour,
but
good Humour
or
Easiness of Temper
is thus
corroborative
and
promotive:
Then, in Conclusion,
Wit and Humour
come in again, to overturn all that hath been done, and shew that
good Humour
hath suffered itself to be ridiculously
imposed upon.
THO' it doth not appear that our modern Advocates for
Wit and Humour
are so
nearly interested
in their Fate as they seem to
think
themselves; yet it must be owned their Generosity is so much the more to be applauded, in thus
pleading
the Cause of
Clients
who
never employed them.
However, taking for granted what seems to be the real Foundation of their Writings on this Subject,
"that
talking
in Praise of
Wit and Humour
is a Proof of their being
possessed
of them, and that consequently they are
Parties in the Cause;
"
I shall not
envy
the noble Writer
any Man's Admiration,
who may think proper to esteem him a
Wit,
on account of the
grotesque
Appearances he assumes throughout this present
Miscellany.
'Tis my Intention only to convince the plain Reader, that this
supposed Wit
is by no means
Philosophical.
THE first
Head
therefore, he tells us, is
"to make it appear, that Wit and Humour are corroborative of Religion and promotive of true Faith."
To this Purpose he tires us with a Story, not the most elegantly plann'd, in my Apprehension, of a
"Club of
merry
Gentlemen, who in a travelling Expedition meeting with sorry Roads and worse Fare, laugh'd themselves into a Belief, that both Roads, Accommodations, and Cookery, were perfectly good."
What follows is the Moral or Application of this curious Conceit.
"Had I to deal with a malicious Reader, he might perhaps pretend to infer from this Story of my travelling Friends, that I intended to represent it as an easy Matter for People to persuade themselves into what Opinion or Belief they pleased."
NOW without troubling ourselves to enquire how far this Story is a Proof of the noble Writer's fundamental Maxim,
"That Ridicule is a Test of Truth;"
let us proceed to the intended
Moral;
which seems evidently calculated to throw a false Light on
religious Belief;
by representing it as the mere Effect of
Prejudice, Self-Imposition,
and
Deceit.
To rescue it, therefore, from this insinuated Calumny, we need not
deny,
but
insist,
that the Passions, false Interests, and Prejudices of Mankind must indeed for ever hang as a Byass upon their Opinions. But it must be farther observed too, that these Passions and false Interests will at least as often prejudice them
against
Religion, as
in its Favour.
'Tis true, there are Prejudices in Favour of Religion, arising from
Education;
but there are Prejudices against it too, arising from
vicious Passions.
Some are
sanguine
in their
Hopes,
and hence, while their Conduct is virtuous,
wish,
and therefore
believe
Religion to be
true:
Others are
sanguine
in their
Hopes,
but
abandoned
in their Conduct, and therefore
live
themselves into a Belief that Religon is
false.
Some, thro' a Dread of Annihilation, persuade themselves beyond the Strength of Evidence: Others, thro' the Prevalence of a suspicious cast of Mind, reject even what is probable. Thus Passions and Prejudices work powerfully indeed; but they work both
for
and
against Religion.
It should seem then, that the noble Writer's Moral, which he aims at
Religion,
may with equal Force be apply'd to
Infidelity:
For it is but supposing a Man given up to
Vanity
or
Vice,
and we shall soon
"see him enter into such a Plot as this against his own Understanding, and endeavour by all possible Means to persuade both himself and others of what he thinks
convenient
and
useful
to DISBELIEVE."
'Tis idle therefore to insist on the Prejudices either
for
or
against
Religion: they will both naturally arise; and it is the Part of Reason to controul them. But we may safely leave it to any one's Determination, which Temper of Mind is the most
amiable,
that which entertains Prejudices
in Favour
of
Religion,
or
against it.
THE noble Writer proceeds to his
second
Head; but seems at the same time conscious how little it was to any good Purpose. However, in Failure of
Truth
and
Method,
he again hath recourse to what he seems to think
Wit and Humour;
and which, for aught I know, may pass for such among his Admirers.
"However, says he, lest I should be charged for being worse than my Word, I shall endeavour to satisfy my Reader, by pursuing my Method proposed; if peradventure he can call to Mind what that Method was. Or if he cannot, the Matter is not so very important, but that he may safely pursue his Reading, without further Trouble."
BUT tho' it was prudently done in the noble Writer, to throw the Subject of his
second
Head into
Shades;
yet for the Sake of Truth, we must drag it into
Light.
It was therefore to prove
"That
Wit and Humour
are used as the proper Means of promoting true Faith, by the holy Founders of Religion."
But when we come to the Point, for
Wit and Humour,
by Virtue of a certain Dexterity of Hand, the Reader is again unexpectedly presented with
good Humour
in their Stead. This, it will be said, is nimble dealing; but what of that, so long as it may tend to disgrace
Christianity
and its
Founder?
The noble Writer's Application, therefore, is still more Extraordinary.
"The Affection and Love which procures a true Adherence to the new religious Foundation, must depend either on a real or
counterfeit Goodness
in the
religious Founder:
Whatever
ambitious Spirit
may
inspire him;
whatever
savage Zeal
or
persecuting Principle
may lie
in Reserve,
roady to disclose itself when Authority and Power is once obtained; the
first Scene
of
Doctrine,
however, fails not to present us with the agreeable Views of
Joy, Love, Meakness, Gentleness,
and
Moderation.
"
—To speak my inmost Sentiments of this Passage, it is of too black a Nature to deserve a Reply. There are certain Degrees of
Calumny
so
flagrant,
as injured Truth disdains to answer; and this is of the Kind. On this Occasion, therefore, we shall leave the noble Writer to the Reflections of every
honest Man;
in Conformity to the Example of that blessed Person,
"
who, when he was reviled, reviled not again
See above § 3. of this
Essay.
p. 269.
."
THE next Circumstance in holy Writ, that falls under his Lordship's Animadversion, is what he calls
"The famous
Entry
or
high Dance
perform'd by DAVID in the Procession of the sacred Coffer."
In which he hath again represented Things
as it seemed good to him.
Here, by confounding
ancient,
with
modern Manners
(in such a Way as is quite unworthy of his Character, and suited only to the Genius of a
Coffee-house
Freethinker) he hath endeavoured to bring down the
solemn Procession
of a grand
religious Festival,
to a Level with the Merriments of an Apish
Dancing-Master.
This Representation may very probably pass current among many of his Admirers; so that it had been necessary to set the Matter in its true Light; but that here too, I am happily prevented by a judicious Writer, who hath done all imaginable Justice to the Argument; and effectually exposed the noble Writer's Weakness and Insincerity
See Dr. Leland's
Answer to the Moral Philosopher,
p. 291, &c.
.
HIS Lordship now proceeds to the Story of the Prophet JONAH, which he hath burlesqued and turned to Farce with that Delicacy, so peculiar to himself. The Story itself is indeed authenticated by our SAVIOUR's mention of it, as emblematical of his own Death and Resurrection. Its Moral is excellent; being an illustrious Display of the divine Mercy to penitent and returning Sinners, exemplify'd in GOD's remitting the Punishment denounced, and sparing a devoted City on its sincere Repentance; as also of the Frailty and Imperfection of the best of Men, set forth in the Prophet's Behaviour on the Occasion. To this we may add
"the Propriety of the Miracle recorded,"
which was itself an extraordinary and most awakening
"Instance of Punishment
inflicted on Disobedience,
and
remitted on Repentance;
"
and therefore bearing a
strong Relation
to the
Event
for which it was wrought; being peculiarly
adapted,
when made known to the
Ninevites,
to induce them to hearken to the Prophet's Preaching, to
believe
what he
denounced
and
promised,
and rouze them at once into a
Fear
of GOD's
Justice,
and a
Reliance
on his
Mercy.
SUCH then being the real Nature of the Fact; the Secret of the noble Writer's polite Representation lies in his burlesquing the Circumstances of the
supposed Dialogue
between GOD and the Prophet; an easy Task for any one who is disingenuous or ignorant enough to represent as strictly
litteral,
what is evidently
parabolical;
according to the frequent and known Manner of
Composition
in the earliest Ages
See the
Div. Leg.
Vol. ii. where a full Account is given of the Origin and Progress of this kind of Writing.
. This his Lordship seems to have been aware of:
"Whatsoever of this Kind may be
allegorically
understood, or in the Way of
Parable
or
Fable,
&c."
Now had he treated the Scripture Story with the same Candour which he affords to other ancient Writers, he would not have abused this Passage in so unworthy a Manner. A Writer of no Abilities, if provided only with a sufficient Quantity of Spleen and false Conceit, might easily ridicule his favourite Piece, "The Judgment of HERCULES:" And to a raw Imagination, disgrace that instructive Fable, by burlesquing the supposed Conference between the
Goddesses
and the
Heroe.
VIRGIL hath in Fact been so served. And if Works of mere Invention, and of the heroic Kind, studiously contrived to avoid every thing low, obscure, or equivocal, are subject to this Abuse; can we wonder, if the succinct History of an ancient Fact, recording the Dispensations of Providence, a Matter very obscure in itself, and relative to ancient Manners so distant from our own, should be liable to the false and dishonest Lights of Buffoonry? We may further observe that the noble Writer's Ridicule sometimes falls on divine Providence itself:
"His
Tutor had good Eyes,
and a
long Reach;
he
overtook
the Renegade at Sea, &c."
—Could an
Epicurean
have used more indecent Language?
His Lordship goes on, to ridicule
"the
Descriptions, Narrations, Expressions,
and
Phrases
"
of holy Scripture: But these we shall pass over at present, as they will deserve a separate Consideration. He touches once more on the
Patriarch
ABRAHAM; and they who are curious enough to look for the Objection, may find a full Answer to it, in the Place here referred to
Div. Leg.
Vol. ii. p. 620.
.
THE next, and only remaining Circumstance worthy of Notice in this Miscellany, is a
pretended Translation
from PLUTARCH: In which the noble Writer deals as honourably by that Author, as before by GORGIAS or ARISTOTLE
See above,
Essay
i. § ix.
. But here too, I am prevented by the learned PHILELEUTHERUS LIPSIENSIS: However, as his Lordship's Conduct is
remarkable
on this Occasion, it may not be improper to exhibit a View of it in the great Critic's Words; who, it must be owed, hath chastised the noble Writer somewhat
roughly,
and
Aristarchus
like.
"HE (Mr. COLLINS) quotes the Place as it is translated forsooth in the
Characteristics,
a Book writ by an anonymous, but, whoever he is, a very whimsical and conceited Author.
O wretched
Grecians (
so that Author renders
PLUTARCH)
who bring into Religion that frightful Mien of sordid and vilifying Devotion, ill-favoured Humiliation and
Contrition, abject Looks and Countenances, Consternations, Prostrations, Disfigurations, and, in the Act of worship, Distortions, constrained and painful Postures of the Body, wry Faces, beggarly Tones, Mumpings, Grimaces, Cringings, and the rest of this Kind.
—Thus far that nameless Opiniatre: And our worthy Writer (Mr. COLLINS) introduces it with a grave Air,
that
PLUTARCH
thus satirizes the public Forms of Devotion; which yet are such, as, in almost all Countries, pass for the true Worship of God.
—This would partly be true, if those were really the Words of PLUTARCH: But as not one Syllable of them is found there, what must we think of this
Couple
of
Corrupters
and
Forgers?
There is nothing in all this, but their own
Disfigurations
and
Distortions
of the Original; their own
Mumpings,
and
beggarly Tones,
while they pretend to speak in PLUTARCH's Voice.—PLUTARCH having observed, that Superstition alone allows no Ease nor Intermission, even in Sleep; their Dreams, adds he, do as much torment them then, as their waking Thoughts did before;
they seek for Expiations of those
Visions nocturnal; Charms, Sulfurations, Dippings in the Sea, Sittings all Day on the Ground.
O
Greeks,
Inventors of
Barbarian
Ills,
whose Superstition has devised Rowlings in the Mire and in the Kennels, Dippings in the Sea, Grovelings and Throwings upon the Face, deformed Sittings on the Earth, absurd and uncouth Adorations.
This is a verbal Interpretation of that Place—and now I dare ask the Reader, if he has seen a more flagrant Instance of
Unfaithfulness
and
Forgery,
than this of our two Writers?
Humiliation
and
Contrition,
known Words in your
English Liturgy,
are to be traduced here under PLUTARCH's Name. Where do those and their other Phrases appear in the Original? or where do the Rites, he really speaks of, appear in your Form of Worship? who among you
rowl themselves in Mire, or wallow in Kennels?
a Ceremony fit only to be enjoyned to such
crackbrained
and
scandalous
Writers
Phil. Lipsiens.
p. 210
&c.
."
THE remaining Part of this random Essay, is so completely vague and unintelligible, that although it be evidently designed, as a continued Sneer at
Christianity,
'tis impossible to pick so much as an
Objection,
or even an
Idea
out of it. 'Tis therefore below Criticism. To conclude; when I see the noble Writer debase himself in this strange Manner, exercising at once the
lowest Derision,
and inflicting the
deadliest Wounds on Religion and Christianity;
I must own, the Appearance he makes, call up to my Imagination a Remark of his own,
"That there cannot be a Sight more shocking and contemptible, than that of a Man acting at once the Part of a
Merry-Andrew,
and an
Executioner
Wit.
and
H.
Part i. § iii.
."
It may be necessary, finally, to obviate his Lordship's perpetual Sneer at the
Mysteries
of our Religion. These, when particular Topics fail him, are the standing Objects of his Raillery. To cite particular Passages of this Kind, were needless, because they are innumerable. The plain Implication of all his gross Banter, is,
"That because in the
Christian
Dispensation, there are some things, which surpass human Comprehension,
Christianity
is therefore
absurd
and
ridiculous.
"
With Regard to this Cavil, therefore, 'tis not my Intention to insist on proving the
"Difference between Things being
above
Reason and Things being
contrary
to Reason; or that Propositions may be true, though they are
above
our Reason, so long as they are not
contrary
to it."
Full enough has been said on this Subject, and by no body better than by the excellent Mr.
Boyle.
'Tis a Question of more Importance to decide,
"Why any thing
mysterious
should be admitted into a Religion,
revealed
for the
Use
of Man?"
And in Answer to this, we need only observe, that revealed Religion being designed for Man's
Use,
its
essential
Doctrines are plain,
intelligible
to all,
accommodated
to the Nature and Faculties of the
human
Kind. But as this System not only reveals to us our
Duty,
but all
Motives
too which may induce us to practise it; so, in Order to
inforce these,
and
convince
us of the
Truth
of their divine Original, it was necessary, that a
History of Providence,
or GOD's
Dispensation,
should be revealed along with them. Hence something
mysterious
must needs arise; unless you suppose Man
infinite
in Knowledge. For as this System reveals to us several Particulars (so far as they stand connected with
Piety
and
Morals
) which relate to the Nature of GOD, the State of other, and superior Beings, the original Condition of Man, the Interposition of Providence for his Redemption, the Change of his Nature and Faculties, through the future Periods of his Existence; in all which Circumstances, his present Reach of Thought could give him no Information; 'tis evident, that in these Accounts, many Subjects must be
touched upon,
and
other Systems
of
Being
occasionally
glanced at,
the full Knowledge of which, must be far beyond his present Comprehension. Now so far as these Truths and Facts, though
imperfectly revealed,
have any Tendency to
enlighten
his Mind, as to the general
Plan of Providence,
or stand connected in any other Manner with
Religion
and
Virtue,
so as to
encourage
and
promote
them, they must surely be admitted as Circumstances of great
Propriety
and
Use.
Or even supposing some of them to be of
none,
yet if they stand so essentially
connected
with others
which are,
so that the one cannot be destroyed without the other; this very Circumstance of
essential Union,
effectually destroys every Objection against their being of divine Original.
There may be, likewise, and undoubtedly are some few Mysteries of another Kind in the
Mosaic
Dispensation: Such, I mean, as may seem, to some Apprehensions, not so easily reconcileable to the
moral
Attributes of GOD: Of which Kind there are
some
too, in the Constitution of the natural World. Now here in
Revelation,
as in
Nature,
'tis the Part of human Reason to acquiesce in this
mysterious
and
unknown
Part, from what is
clear
and
known
See above, § iv. of this
Essay.
. Of this Kind, perhaps, is the Expulsion of the
Canaanites
under
Joshua,
which the noble Writer hath taken such Pains to vilify
Advice,
P. iii. § iii.
. He might with as much Reason insult the Creator, for the Admission of
Storm, Famine,
or
Pestilence.
For as in Nature, so in
revealed
Religion, we are not to judge of the
whole
Constitution or Dispensation of Things, from
small
and
seeming
Exceptions: On the Contrary, 'tis the Part of Wisdom to determine concerning these
seeming
Exceptions from a full View of the
whole
Dispensation. If
this
evidently tend to Good, the unprejudiced Enquirer into
Nature
and
Revelation
attributes the Doubt and Darkness, which may involve any particular Part, to his own
Incapacity
and
Ignorance.
And justly; for as the noble Writer hath told us on this very Occasion,
"In an
Infinity
of Things thus
relative,
a Mind, which sees not
infinitely,
can see nothing
fully
Mor.
Part ii. § iv.
.
LET us therefore, while as yet we see but
as through a Glass and darkly,
contemplate the Works of God with Reverence and Submission. Let us wait the happier Hour, when
we shall know even as we are known:
when we shall be raised to a more enlarged Comprehension of our Creator's immense Designs; and the whole intelligent Creation shall joyn, in confessing and adoring the unerring Rectitude of all his Dispensations.
SECTION VIII.
HITHERTO we have seen the noble Writer buffooning and disgracing
Christianity,
from a false Representation of its
material
Part: we shall now consider what he hath thrown out against the
Composition, Style,
and
Manner
of the sacred Scriptures; for on this too, he has thought it expedient to
point
his
Raillery.
He tells us, in the
ironical Tone,
"that the Scriptural Descriptions, Narrations, Expressions, and Phrases, are in themselves many Times exceedingly pleasant, entertaining, and facetious.—That our Saviour's Style,—his Parables, Similies, Comparisons,—his Exhortations to his Disciples, the Images under which he often couches his Morals and prudential Rules—carry with them a certain
Festivity, Alacrity,
and good Humour so remarkable, that I should look upon it as impossible not to be mov'd in a
pleasant Manner
at their Recital
Misc.
ii. c. 3.
."
To these general Cavils he hath added a
Simile
in another Miscellany, which, as is usual with all fanciful Writers, is to stand for an Argument. He says
"'tis no otherwise in the grammatical Art of Characters, and
painted Speech,
than in the Art of
Painting
itself. I have seen, in certain Christian Churches, an ancient Piece or two, affirm'd on the solemn Faith of priestly Tradition, to have been angelically and divinely wrought, by a supernatural Hand and sacred Pencil. Had the Piece happen'd to be of a Hand like RAPHAEL's, I could have found nothing
certain
to oppose to this Tradition. But having observed the whole
Style
and
Manner
of the pretended heavenly Workmanship to be so indifferent, as to vary in many Particulars from the Truth of Art, I presum'd within myself to beg Pardon of the Tradition, and assert confidently, that, if the Pencil had been
Heaven-guided,
it could never have been so
lame
in it's Performance
Misc.
v. c. 1.
."
This ingenious Conceit, in the subsequent Paragraph, he very
clearly,
tho'
slyly,
applies to the holy Scriptures.
'TIS the Province of
Wit
to form
Comparisons;
of
Philosophy,
to
detect
their
Weakness,
when they are obtruded on us as a
Test
of Truth. On Examination therefore I will venture to say, the noble Writer's
Parallel
will be found highly irregular and defective.
FOR there is an
essential
Difference between
Paintings
and
Writing,
both in their
End
and
Execution.
Paintings, with Regard to their End, are things of mere
Amusement
and
Taste:
Consequently all their Value lies in the
Exquisiteness
of the
Art,
and the
fine Hand
of the Master. 'Tis likewise a Species of Art, that lies chiefly among the
Few;
the Bulk of Mankind (or in the noble Writer's more elegant Phrase,
the mere Vulgar
) being
incapable,
thro' a Want of
Leisure,
of gaining any Proficiency in this
Taste;
or of acquiring that curious Discernment in
Ordonnance, Drawing,
and
Colouring,
which is at once the Pride and Pleasure of the
Virtuoso-Tribe.
BUT with Respect to Language the Affair is otherwise: It's
Ends
are
various.
From the Four different Kinds of literary Composition, as explained above
See
Essay,
i. § 3.
, there must arise a correspondent Variety of Style, the
Poetical,
the
Oratorial,
the
Historical
and
Didactic.
The First of these Kinds alone partakes of the Nature of
Picture,
and therefore can alone be properly compared with it; as they are both referr'd to the
Imagination,
for the End of
Pleasure:
The other three Species of Composition, tending chiefly to
Utility,
by the Means of
Persuasion
or
Instruction,
draw their prime Value from
Plainness, Clearness,
and
Precision:
From being adapted, not to the
Taste
of the
fastidious Critic,
but to the
Capacities
of those who are the intended Objects of
Perswasion
or
Instruction.
Here then, the noble Writer's Parallel is essentially defective: Since it was the Intention of
Providence,
in the sacred Scriptures, to condescend to what his Lordship's Quality and refined Wisdom intitle him to disdain, even
to instruct the mere Vulgar:
Whereas the End of
Painting,
is only
the Amusement of the Few.
IN Regard to the
Execution,
we shall find as wide a Difference. There is, in Philosophical strictness, but one
unvary'd Language
or
Style
in
Painting;
which is
"such a Modification of
Light
or
Colours
as may imitate whatever Objects we find in Nature."
This consists not in the
Application
of
arbitrary Signs;
but hath it's Foundation in the
Senses
and
Reason
of Mankind; and is therefore
the same
in every Age and Nation. But in the literary
Style
or
Language,
the Matter is far otherwise. For Language being the
voluntary
Application of
arbitrary
Signs, according to the Consent of different Men and Nations, there is no
single uniform Model of Nature
to be followed. Hence
Gracefulness
or
Strength
of Style,
Harmony
or
Softness, copious
Expression,
terse
Brevity, or
contrasted
Periods, have by turns gained the Approbation of particular Countries. Now all these
supposed
Beauties of Speech are
relative, local,
and
capricious;
and consequently unworthy the Imitation of a divine Artist; who, to fit the Speech he
ordains,
to the great Work of
universal Instruction,
would, we may reasonably suppose, strip it of every
local, peculiar,
and
grotesque
Ornament; and convey it unaccompany'd by all, but the more
universal
Qualities common to every Tongue.
THE noble Writer, then, might with some shew of Reason have objected to the
Style
of Scripture, had the Writers boasted it's
Elegance,
as MAHOMET did that of his
Koran,
and defy'd all his Opposers to write any thing approaching it in this Respect. But the sacred Penmen discover no
Design
or
Desire
of excelling as
fine
Writers: On the contrary, St. PAUL says,
"they came not with the Power of human Speech,"
and gives a Reason for it which does Honour to his Mission.
THO' this Scrutiny alone might be sufficient to detect and discredit the Wantonness of the noble Writer's Comparison; yet it will further lead us to a full Disclosure of the Truth; by shewing
that
to be the peculiar Characteristic of the Scripture
Composition,
which hath ever held the first Rank among the Qualities of human Writings; I mean, that of
unadorned
SIMPLICITY.
AS much hath been said by many Writers on the Subject of
Simplicity,
with very little Precision; and particularly by the noble Writer, who seems to separate the
simple
Manner from the
Sublime,
as if they were
incompatible
Advice,
Part ii. § 2.
; and indeed in his own Compositions preposterously deserts the
one,
when ever he attempts the
other
See the
Moralists,
passim.
: It may be necessary here to fix the Idea of a
just
SIMPLICITY. This may be said to consist
"in
Truth
and
Weight
of SENTIMENT, cloathed in such IMAGES and STYLE, as may most effectually
convey
it to the Reader's Mind."
If any of these Circumstances be wanting; if the SENTIMENT be
false
or
tristing,
if the IMAGES or STYLE be such as tend rather to
fix the Attention on
themselves,
than on the
Sentiment
they are employed to
convey,
the
just Simplicity
is destroyed. This, as might be proved by a large Induction of Particulars, is the Circumstance in which the best Critics of Antiquity placed the supreme Excellence of Writing. And, in this Use of the Term, it appears, that not only the
familiar,
the
narrative,
the
didactic,
but the
pathetic,
and
sublime
Manner too, are so far from being inconsistent with
Simplicity,
that they are then only in their Perfection, when
founded on it.
'TIS true indeed, that the sacred Records are, as the noble Writer calls them,
"
multifarious,
and of different Characters, varying according to the Situation, Intention, and natural Capacity of the Writers
Misc.
v. c. 1.
."
Yet amidst all this Variety of Manner, the reigning Quality of
Simplicity
is so
uniform
and
conspicuous,
that the boldest Enemy of
Christianity
will not be forward to hazard the Credit of his
Taste,
by calling it in Question.
IF we examine them in this Light, we shall find, that, according to the Division made above
Essays
i. § 3.
, they consist of Four different Kinds, the
poetic, oratorial, historical,
and
didactic
Forms. The poetic lies chiefly in the Book of
Psalms,
of
Job,
and several detached Passages in the
Prophets,
particularly of
Isaiah.
They contain many noble Efforts of
unmixed Poetry
or
pure Imitation;
yet
these,
being all centered in
one Intention,
that of
extolling
the Works, and celebrating the Power, Wisdom, and Goodness of the
Deity,
do generally partake of the Character of
Eloquence,
being chiefly of the
lyric
Kind
See
Essay
i. § 3.
. In all these, the great Character of
Simplicity
is so strongly predominant, that every Attempt to
embellish
them, by adding the supernumerary Decorations of
Style
in
Translation,
hath ever been found to
weaken
and
debase
them.
AS to the
oratorial
or
pathetic
Parts, innumerable might be produced, equal if not superior to any recorded by prophane Antiquity. In these, the leading Character of
Simplicity
is no less remarkable. Our SAVIOUR's
Parables
and Exhortations are generally admirable in this Quality: Filled with unfeigned Compassion for the Weakness and Miseries of Man, they breathe nothing but the purest Benevolence. St. PAUL's last Conversation with his Friends at
Ephesus,
on his Departure for
Jerusalem
Acts,
c. xx.
; his Discourses on the
Resurrection
and on
Charity;
his Reproofs, his Commendations, his Apologies, especially that before AGRIPPA
Ib.
c. xxvi.
, are wrote in the noblest Strain of Simplicity. And as a perfect Model of this Kind, we may give the Story of JOSEPH
and his Brethren,
which for Tenderness, true
Pathos,
and unmixed Simplicity, is beyond Compare superior to any thing that appears in ancient Story.
BUT as the most important Part of Scripture lies in the
historical
and
preceptive
Part; especially in the
new Testament,
whence chiefly our Idea of
Duty
must be drawn; so we find this uniform and
simple
Manner eminently prevailing throughout, in every
Precept
and
Narration.
The History is conveyed in that artless Strain which alone could
adapt
it to the
Capacities
of
all Mankind;
the Precepts delivered by our SAVIOUR are drawn from the Principles of
common Sense,
improved by the most exalted Love of GOD and
Man;
and either expressed in clear and direct Terms, or couched under such
Images
and
Allusions,
as are every where to be found
in Nature,
such as
are,
and
must ever be
universally
known,
and
familiar
to all Mankind
See Newton on
Daniel;
—Mr. Jortin's
Discourses;
—Dr. Law's
Life of
CHRIST.
; in which, we may further observe, his Manner of teaching was greatly superior even to the noble Writer's justly applauded SOCRATES, who for the most part drew his
Images
and Allusions from the
less known
ARTS and MANNERS of the
City,
tho' indeed not without Reason. He did not aim at the Instruction of Mankind, but of the more literate Part of his fellow Citizens. His proper End was rather reforming the Minds of those who had been ill taught, than instructing those who had never learnt. To return; thro' all this Variety of striking Allusion and moral Precept, the
Style
ever continues the same,
unadorned, simple,
and, even by the noble Writer's own Confession,
"
vehement
and
majestic
Misc.
ii. c. 3.
;"
yet never drawing the Reader's Attention on itself, but on the divine
Sentiments
it
conveys.
TO this we may further add, that these several Kinds of Composition are mixed and united with such Propriety and Force, as is scarce to be equalled in any other Writings. The poetical Parts are heightened by the great Strokes of
Eloquence
and
Precept;
the
pathetick,
by the noblest
Imagery,
and justest
Morals;
and the
preceptive
is strengthened and inforced by all the Aids of
Poetry, Eloquence,
and
Parable;
calculated at once to engage the
Imagination,
to touch the
Passions,
and command the
Reason
of Mankind.
'TIS true, this unadorned
Simplicity
so conspicuous in the Scripture Composition, hath often given Offence to puerile Critics. The noble Writer hath but revived the Objection; it was weakly urged by CELSUS in the Infancy of the Christian Religion
Origen
contra Cels.
1 vii.
. At the Period when
Letters
revived in
Europe,
the
florid
Taste was so prevalent in
Italy,
under the Pontificate of LEO the Tenth, that the Composition of the Scriptures was on this Account held in general Contempt; and one of the fine Gentlemen in Literature
Cardinal PIETRO BEMBO.
, of those Days, is known to have declared,
"that he dared not to read the
Bible,
lest it should
endanger his Style.
"
We may easily form Judgment of the Taste of that Age from this one Circumstance,
"that their most elaborate and celebrated Compositions were all wrote in a
dead Language:
"
For thus they became mere
Imitators,
even to a Degree of
Servility.
And 'tis sufficient for the Defenders of the
Bible
to observe, that along with
it,
every other great Model of antient Writing fell into the same Disgrace at the above-mentioned Period; while the general Taste and Attention was turned from weight of
Sentiment,
and strength of
Image
and
Expression,
to the
local
and
capricious
Decorations of
Style
and
Language.
But the Reign of this false Taste was of short Duration; so that for a long Time past, the comparative Merit of ancient Writers hath been
weighed
in a juster
Scale.
NOW if we examine the Writers whose Composition hath stood the Test of Ages, and obtained that highest Honour,
"the concurrent Approbation of distant Times and Nations,"
we shall find that the Character of
Simplicity
is the
unvarying
Circumstance, which alone hath been able to gain this universal Homage from Mankind. Among the
Greeks,
whose Writers in general are of the
simple
Kind, the divinest Poet
Homer.
, the most commanding
Orator
Demosthenes.
, the finest
Historian
Xenophon.
, and deepest
Philosopher
Aristotle.
, are, above the rest, conspicuously eminent in this great Quality. The
Roman
Writers rise towards Perfection according to that Measure of true
Simplicity
which they mingle in their Works. Indeed they are all inferior to the
Greek
Models. But who will deny, that LUCRETIUS, HORACE, VIRGIL, LIVY, TERENCE, TULLY, are at once the
simplest
and
best
of
Roman
Writers? Unless we add the noble
Annalist
Tacitus.
, who appeared in after Times; who, notwithstanding the
political Turn
of his Genius, which sometimes
interferes,
is admirable in this great Quality; and by it, far superior to his Contemporaries. 'Tis this one Circumstance that hath raised the venerable DANTE, the Father of modern Poetry, above the succeeding Poets of his Country, who could never long maintain the
local
and
temporary
Honours bestowed upon them; but have fallen under that just Neglect, which
Time
will ever decree to those who desert a
just Simplicity
for the
florid
Colourings of Style, contrasted Phrases, affected Conceits, the mere
Trappings
of Composition, and
Gothic
MINUTIAE. 'Tis this hath given to BOILEAU the most lasting Wreath in
France;
to SHAKESPEAR and MILTON in
England;
especially to the last, whose Writings are more
unmixed
in in this Respect; and who had formed himself entirely on the
simple
Model of the best
Greek
Writers, and the
sacred
Scriptures
Mr. DRYDEN somewhere observes
"that MILTON never sinks so far below himself, as when he falls on
some Track of Scripture.
"
'Tis equally true, that he never
rises
so far
above himself,
as when he falls on some
Track of Scripture.
'Tis easy to guess what was the Drift of Mr. DRYDEN's Remark. But the Observations made above (
Essay
i. § 3) will easily reconcile these seeming Contradictions When MILTON adopts the
poetical
Parts of Scripture, he
rises
above himself. But by an
injudicious Application
of the
historical
or
didactic
Parts, he
often falls indeed.
THIS naturally leads us to an Observation on Mr. HUME's Essay "
on Simplicity and Refinement in Writing.
" He hath attempted to fix a certain
Union
of these two Qualities, which, he says, constitutes the most perfect Form of Composition. It were to be wished he had given us some better
Reasons
in support of this
Opinion,
which itself seems to be a mere
Refinement.
The Progress of his Argument is remarkable.—He draws all his Instances from
Poets;
and having given some Examples of Poets who are both
simple
and
unpoetical
in the Extreme, he arbitrarily throws the Censure on the too great Degree of
Simplicity,
instead of fixing it where he ought,
viz.
on the too great Mixture of the
historical, oratorial,
or
argumentative
Species. In Proof of this, we need only alledge the Examples of HOMER, PINDAR, and CALLIMACHUS, where
Simplicity,
and at the same Time
Sublimity
and the
true poetic Forms,
are in their last
Perfection.
Thus all he proves is,
"that a
Poet
ought not to be
unpoetical.
"
—Next, he puts VIRGIL and RACINE on a
Level,
as having attained the nearest to this
imagined Union
of
Simplicity
and
Refinement.
Here he obligeth us again to call his Taste in Question: For every Page of RACINE is full of
Turns,
both of
Phrase
and
Sentiment:
Whereas we scarce meet with three Instances of this Kind in all VIRGIL's Writings.—He then gives us his Idea of
Simplicity:
"Those Compositions which have the Recommendation of Simplicity, have
nothing surprizing
in the Thought, when divested of that
Elegance of Expression,
and
Harmony of Numbers,
with which it is cloathed."
—From these extraordinary
Premises,
we are naturally prepared to expect his
Conclusion,
"that CATULLUS and PARNEL are his
favourite
Authors!"
.
AS it appears from these Instances, that
Simplicity
is the only universal Characteristic of just Writing; so the superior Eminence of the sacred Scriptures in this prime Quality hath been generally acknowledged. One of the greatest Critics in Antiquity, himself conspicuous in the
sublime
and
simple
Manner, hath born this Testimony to the Writings of MOSES and St. PAUL
Longinus.
. And by Parity of Reason we must conclude, that had he been conversant with the other sacred Writers, his
Taste
and
Candour
would have allowed them the same Encomium.
BUT we need not have Recourse to Authorities, for the Proof of the superior Weight and Dignity of the sacred Scriptures, in this great Quality. 'Tis evident to Demonstration from the following Circumstance. It hath been often observed, even by Writers of no mean Rank, that
"the Scriptures suffer in their Credit by the
Disadvantage
of a
literal Version,
while other ancient Writings enjoy the
Advantage
of a
free
and
embellished Translation.
"
But in Reality these Gentlemen's Concern is ill-placed and groundless. For the Truth is,
"That most other Writings are indeed
impaired
by a
literal Translation;
whereas, giving only a due Regard to the
Idioms
of different Languages, the sacred Writings when
literally translated,
are then in their full Perfection."
Now this is an
internal
Proof, that in all other Writings there is a Mixture of
local, relative, exterior
Ornament; which is often lost in the Transfusion from one Language to another. But the
internal
Beauties which depend not on the
particular
Construction of
Tongues,
no
Change
of
Tongue
can destroy. Hence the
Bible-Composition
preserves its native Beauty and Strength, alike in every Language, by the sole Energy of unadorned Phrase, natural Images, weight of Sentiment, and
great Simplicity.
'TIS in this Respect, like a rich Vein of
Gold,
which, under the severest Trials of Heat, Cold, and Moisture, retains its original
Weight
and
Splendor,
without either Loss or Alloy; while baser Metals are corrupted by Earth, Air, Water, Fire, and assimilated to the various Elements thro' which they pass.
THIS Circumstance then may be justly regarded as sufficient to vindicate the Composition of the sacred Scriptures; as it is at once their chief
Excellence,
and greatest
Security.
'Tis their
Excellence,
as it renders them
intelligible
and
useful to all;
'tis their
Security,
as it prevents their being disguised by the
false
and
capricious
Ornaments of
vain
or
weak Translators.
WE may safely appeal to Experience and Fact for the Confirmation of these Remarks on the superior Simplicity, Utility, and Excellence of the Style of holy Scripture. Is there any Book in the World, so perfectly adapted to all Capacities? that contains such
sublime
and
exalting
Precepts, convey'd in such an
artless
and
intelligible
Strain? that can be read with such Pleasure and Advantage, by the lettered
Sage
and the unlettered
Peasant?
To whom then would the noble Writer send Mankind for religious and moral Instruction? To the divine PLATO, it may be supposed; or, more probably, to the
inraptured
Strains of PHILOCLES and THEOCLES. And sure, Mankind must reap much Instruction and Advantage from the
puffed Epithets
and
sustian Style
of a
philosophical Romance.
We may reasonably hope indeed, soon to see (nay, do we not already see?) the happy Effects of this high Discipline. For in Fact, the noble Writer's
Characteristics
are now the standing
Oracle
in the
Office,
the
Shop,
nay, as I am informed, sometimes even in the
Cobler's Stall.
We need not wonder therefore, that in these new Habitations of
Taste, sublimed Phrase,
and
abstruse Philosophy,
the
simple
Strains of the Gospel are
damned
and
discarded.
TO return then to the noble Writer's Comparison (if indeed we have departed from it) these united Observations may convince us, that the only circumstance in Painting, which can with any Propriety be compared to literary
Style,
is that of
colouring.
And on this principle we may farther confirm all that hath been said on the superior Excellence of the
simple
Manner. For 'tis well known, and the noble Writer knew it, that while the Masters in this fine Art confined the Pencil to the genuine Forms of
Grace
and
Greatness,
and only superadded to these the temperate Embellishments of a
chastised
and
modest
colouring, the Art grew towards its
Perfection:
but no sooner was their Attention turned from
Truth, Simplicity,
and
Design,
to the gaudy Decorations of a rich and luscious
Colouring,
than their Credit declined with their Art: and the experienced Eye, which contemplates the
old
Pictures with
Admiration,
surveys the
modern
with Indifference or
Contempt.
TO conclude. We see there are two Kinds of
Composition,
essentially opposed to each other. The
one
turns the Attention on
itself;
the
other,
on
the Truths it conveys.
The first may be justly compared to a
Sun-Beam playing
on the
Surface
of the Water, which
attracts
and
dazzles
the Beholder's Eye by its own
useless Splendor.
The last is like a
Sun-Beam
darting to the Bottom; which, while itself is
unseen,
or
unobserved, communicates
its brightness, and
illumines every Object on which it falls.
HOW far the
first
of these may belong to to the noble Writer, let others determine. 'Tis sufficient to have proved, that the
last
is the
unvaried
Style and Manner of the
sacred Scriptures.
SECTION IX.
IT would have been strange, had his Lordship emptied so much of his Gall on
Christianity,
without bestowing a Share on its
Ministers.
It may therefore be expected, that something should be said on his Treatment of the
English Clergy.
SO far as his Spirit of Satire may have been provoked by the persecuting and intolerant Principles of some of the
Clergy
in his Time, 'tis highly commendable. It matters not in what Rank, Order, or Profession, the Enemies of
Freedom
may appear. What shape or Pretence soever they may assume, 'tis a work of true Charity to stigmatize and disgrace them, as the Enemies of Mankind.
BUT it appears too evidently, that the noble Writer's
Spleen
arose from another Foundation. For his Satire is not so often pointed against them, as being the
Enemies of Freedom,
as the
Friends of Christianity.
With a view of disgracing them in this Regard, he hath ridiculed and abused their
Writings,
their
Preaching,
and even their
Persons.
It will only be necessary to select a few Instances of this kind, from an infinite Number; in all which, the
Delicacy
of the
Raillery
is so
conspicuous,
as to need
no Illustration.
IN his
Soliloquy,
he hath paid his Compliments to the
Writings
of the
Clergy,
under the Title of "Candidates for Authorship of the sanctify'd Kind."
"These, he says, may be termed a sort of
Pseudo-Ascetics,
who can have no real Converse either with themselves or with Heaven."—"And although the Books of this sort, by a common Idiom, are called
good Books,
the Authors for certain are a
sorry Race
"—"
A Saint-Author, of all Men, least values Politeness.
—He is above the Consideration of that, which in a narrow Sense, we call
Manners:
nor is he apt to examine any other Faults, than those which he calls
Sins
Solil.
Part i. § 1.
."
THUS he deals with the Clergy, when they are
dull
enough to write
seriously
on the most
interesting Subjects.
But if any of the Order happens to fall into a gayer turn of Composition, the Charge is renewed under another Form. Then,
"the
burlesque
Divinity grows mightily in vogue; and the cry'd up Answers to Heterodox Discourses are generally such as are written in Drollery—
Joy
to the Reverend Authors, who can afford to be thus gay, and condescend to correct us in this
Lay-Wit
Misc.
v. c. 2.
."
THEIR
Preaching
is another standing Subject of Derision: and ridiculed they must be, whether they
divide
their Discourse, or
divide it not.
If the first, then the following stroke of Raillery is prepar'd for them:
"Come we now (as our
authentic Rhetoricians
express themselves) to our
second Head
Misc.
ii. c. 3.
."
If the latter, then
"our religious
Pastors
have changed their Manner of distributing to us their
Spiritual Food
—they have run into the more savory way of
learned Ragout
and
Medley.
The elegant Court-Divine exhorts in
Miscellany,
and is ashamed to bring his
two's
and
three's
before a fashionable Assembly
Misc.
ii. c. 3.
."
The
Defenders
of
Christianity
are baited in their Turn.
"For Example, let a
zealous Divine
and
flaming Champion
of our
Faith,
when inclined to shew himself in Print, make choice of some
tremendous Mystery
of Religion, opposed heretofore by some
damnable Heresiarch
"—"A Ring is made, and Readers gather in Abundance. Every one takes Party and encourages his own Side. "
This shall be my Champion!—This Man for my Money!—Well hit on our Side!—Again, a good Stroke!—There he was even with him!—Have at him next Bout!—Excellent Sport!
Misc.
i. c. 2.
"
The same
familiar Elegance
of Composition, joyned with a surprising Effort in the noble Writer's
own Sublime,
runs through the following Paragraph; where he compares a Controversy in
Divinity,
to a Match at
Foot-Ball.
"So have I known a
crafty Glazier,
in time of Frost, procure a FOOT-BALL, to draw into the Street the
emulous Chiefs
of the
robust
Youth.
The
tumid Bladder
bounds at every KICK,
bursts
the
withstanding
CASEMENTS, the
Chassys, Lanterns,
and all the
brittle vitreous
WARE. The
Noise
of
Blows
and
Out-cries
fills the WHOLE NEIGHBOURHOOD; and the Ruins of Glass cover the
stony Pavements:
till the
bloated battering Engine, subdued
by Force of FOOT and FIST, and
yielding up its Breath
at many a
fatal
CRANNY, becomes lank and harmless, sinks in its Flight, and can no longer uphold the Spirit of the contending Parties
Misc.
i. c. 2.
."
NOT content with these
severe Strokes
of Raillery, the noble Writer prepares a more deadly Blow at the Clergy; even no less than ruining their Fortunes among the
Fair-Sex.
And here the discerning Reader will readily guess, that his Ridicule must be needs levelled at their
Persons.
He introduces, or drags in, the Story of OTHELLO and DESDEMONA; represents the one as a
miraculous
Story-teller, the other as a
credulous
Hearer. He then adds,
"But why the Poet, amongst his
Greek
Names, should have chosen one which denoted the Lady
superstitious,
I can't imagine; unless, as Poets are sometimes Prophets too, he should figuratively, under this dark Type, have represented to us, that, about a hundred Years after his time, the Fair Sex of this Island should, by
other monstrous Tales,
be so seduced, as to turn their Favour chiefly on the
Tale-Tellers;
and change their natural Inclination for fair,
candid,
and
courteous Knights,
into a Passion for
a mysterious Race of black Enchanters
Solil.
Part ii. § 3.
."
I CANNOT think this
elegant
Passage deserves a particular Reply. 'Tis supposed, the noble Writer designed it only as a Proof,
"That the
Saint-Author
of all Men
least values Politeness;
"
as a Proof how
incapable
he was of
violating his own Rule,
or exercising any Degree of
"that
gross
sort of
Raillery,
which is so
offensive in good Company
Wit. and H.
Part i. § 2.
."
Indeed all the
delicate
Paragraphs here cited are much of the same nature; and afford an undeniable Proof, how great a Master his Lordship was, in the true
refined
Manner of
Attic
Wit. I shall only add, that if, according to the noble Writer's projected Scheme of Confutation, the
English Clergy
should ever be
baited
in the way of
Puppet-show
at
Bart' l' mew-Fair;
I would recommend the above Passages, with many parallel ones in the
Characteristics,
to the Managers of the
Drama;
as being admirably suited to the
Genius
of their
wooden
DROLE, whether he should chuse to
swagger
in the
Sock,
or
strut
in the
Buskin.
WERE the Clergy disposed to return these Compliments
in Kind,
it may be questioned whether his Lordship's Admirers would acquit them of
coarse Manners.
But however some of that Body may
blindly hate,
and others as
blindly admire
the Author of the
Characteristics;
yet the best and wisest of the Profession, so far as I have been able to learn from their Conversation, would probably rather chuse to return his Salutations in the following Manner.
Notwithstanding the superior Airs of
Contempt,
which on all Occasions your-Lordship is pleased to assume, we cannot think you of such Ability, as you seem to appear in your own Eyes: neither can we think this overweening Opinion of your self, this Disdain of all who adopt not your peculiar Tenets, is any Proof of real Wisdom, since yourself have taught us to believe,
"that as we grow
wiser,
we shall prove
less conceited.
"
Though we scorn to
revile
you, yet we judge ourselves
well intitled
to tell you
the Truth
on every Subject. We regard, therefore, a fine
Imagination,
an extensive
Knowledge,
and a commanding
Judgment,
as three Qualities independent of each other. In the first, we think you
eminent;
in the second, considerable; in the last, we must be excused, if we think you
neither eminent nor considerable:
And on this Account we can allot you
no high Rank,
in the Scale of
true Genius.
Suitable to this, your
Taste
in
Arts
is much superior to your
Talents
for
Philosophy.
The only
Chain
of
Reasoning
you have exhibited, is found in your
Enquiry concerning Virtue:
nor is even this fastened to the
Throne of Truth,
but hangs trembling from a
shadowy
and
aerial
Fabric, blown up by a sportive Imagination. You have indeed obtained the Character of an
original Writer
in
Philosophy:
how little you deserve this must needs be known to all who are versed in the
Greek Schools;
for thence the
rational Part
of your System is chiefly drawn. What you
borrow,
you often
embellish,
sometimes
disguise,
never
strengthen:
but when you attempt to become
original,
you only convince us how ill qualified you are for such a Task. Accordingly, we find in the general turn of your Writings,
meagre Sentiments
studiously adorned by a
glare
of
Words,
and a
waste
of
Imagery:
with these you amuse the common Reader; like the unqualified Painter, who, unable to reach the Beauties of a just and
vigorous Expression,
covers a lifeless Figure with
gaudy Draperies.
And we cannot but think, that had you studied the Writings of that great and excellent Man whom you so weakly deride
Mr.
Locke.
See
Advice,
&c.
Part
iii. § 1.
, your Volumes, whatever they had lost in
Bulk,
would have gained in
weight
and
splendor.
With regard to the Buffoonries, which you have occasionally exercised on Christianity, in what you call
"your Random Essays;"
they are so much below the Character of
the Philosopher,
that it is matter of Surprize to us, that you could think they can become the
Man of Wit.
It is true, among those whom you most despise, the
mere Vulgar,
they have gained you the Character of an
inimitable
Author; among Readers of that Rank
"who are ready to swallow any low Drollery or Jest;"
among those whom you have elsewhere
"described, who, while they pretend to such a Scrutiny of other Evidences, are the readiest to take the Evidence of the greatest Deceivers in the World,
their own Passions
Mor.
P. ii. § 1.
."
But whatever these Passages may be in their
Consequences,
we cannot but think them, in their own
Nature,
even
contemptible.
For, to use your own
Attic
Phrase,
"to
twitch, snap, snub
up, or
banter,
to torture
Sentences
and
Phrases,
and turn
a few Expressions into Ridicule,
is not sufficient to constitute what is properly esteemed
a Writer
Misc.
v. c. 2.
."
On this Account we look upon these boasted Passages in your Book, to be of that Kind which are calculated only
"
to create Diversion
to those who look no further
Misc.
i. c. 1.
;"
and in which, as you elsewhere observe,
"the most
confused Head,
if
fraught with a little Invention,
and provided with
Common-Place-Book Learning,
may exert itself to as much Advantage, as the most
orderly
and
well-settled Judgment
Ibid.
."
We cannot therefore express any Esteem either for the
Scurrilities
of the
coarse
JESTER, or the
trim Delicacy
and
Self-Admiration
of the
literary
NARC ISSUS.
BUT,
my Lord,
there lies a heavier Charge against you, than that of
bad Writing.
We mean, the
Indecency
and
Immorality
of
your Conduct,
in your
Manner
of attacking
Christianity.
You would be thought a
Lover
of your
Country;
yet you pour
Contempt
upon its
Laws
and
Institutions.
You allow the Propriety of a
religious Establishment;
yet you take every Occasion to
deride
it. You contend for a
public Leading
in Religion; yet you perpetually insinuate, that Mankind are
led by the Nose.
You say,
"The
Public
ought not to be
insulted to its Face;
"
yet your Writings are one
continued Insult
upon its
Opinions.
Our excellent and unrivaled Constitution allows a perfect
Freedom
of
Enquiry;
had you then argued
ingennously
and
fairly
against
Christianity,
without attempting
Ridicule;
whatever Opinion we might have entertained of your
Head,
we might at least have thought favourably of your
Heart.
But in direct Opposition to this Rule, you always
ridicule,
scarce ever
argue;
you endeavour to instil
illegal Opinions,
without bringing any Evidence to support either their
Usefulness
or
Truth:
You give these
crude Buffoonries
to the World in
Print;
and is not this
insulting the Public to its Face?
—In this Instance, we must think you
a bad Citizen;
and to be ranked among those, whom a Writer, by no Means prejudiced in Favour of Religion, thus justly stigmatizes:
"Who, I hardly know for what End, have written against the Religion of their Country; and without pretending to substitute any thing better, or more practicable, in its Place, would deprive us of our happy Establishment, merely, as it should seem, for the Pleasure of pulling down and doing Mischief
Enquiry into
Homer's
Life and Writings,
§ 6.
."
Besides this,
my Lord,
we must take the Liberty to say, that you betray such frequent Marks of
Insincerity
and
designed Misrepresentation
in your Treatment of
Christianity,
as but ill consists with that
Reverence
which you owe to
Truth
and to
yourself;
such as becomes not
a
MAN, much less a
Man
whom the Public consent hath distinguished by the Title of RIGHT HONOURABLE.
WHAT your particular Motives may have been to this Treatment of
Christianity,
you best know. The most
excusable Temptation
to this strange Conduct, that we can assign, must have been the
natural Prevalence
of
Spleen.
For, as you observe,
"all
splenetic
People have a necessary Propensity to Criticism and Satire."—"The Spirit of Satire rises with the
ill Mood;
and the chief Passion of Men thus
diseased
and thrown
out of good Humour,
is to find
Fault, censure, unravel, confound,
and leave nothing without
Exception
and
Controversy
Misc.
ii. c. 3.
."
FAR be it from us to derogate from your
private Virtues;
tho' we cannot but wish, that in your Treatment of
Christianity,
you had given better Proofs of that
universal Charity,
which you so
warmly profess;
even while you are reviling
that Religion
where alone it is to be found.—There is another Circumstance, that sure the more humane Part of your Admirers would hesitate upon; we mean, that
extreme Contempt
you express for those you call the
mere Vulgar.
Your Regard seems solely centered in establishing your
peculiar System
among those you call
"Men of
Fashion
and
Breeding;
"
while you give up
the Vulgar,
that is (to speak with due Reverence of the Works of GOD) the Bulk of your
Fellow-Creatures,
as a proper Prey to the supposed Delusions and Tyranny of those, whom you brand as the Enemies of Mankind. How this
Contempt
for the greatest Part of your
Species
can consist with true
Virtue
or
Charity,
we are at a Loss to comprehend. 'Tis certain,
Christianity
would have taught you otherwise. Nay,
my Lord,
a great
Roman,
as much your Superior in
Station,
as in
Genius
and
active Virtue,
would have told you,
"that true Goodness extends itself to the
Multitude;
that Virtue is not disdainful or proud; but regards all Ranks of Men, and consults their Welfare; which it could not do, if it
despised the Vulgar
Cicero,
Lael.
."
Christianity
hath nobly heightened this Principle; and recommends the
Weak,
the
Poor,
the
Ignorant,
as the proper Objects not only of our
Charity,
but
Instruction.
And however mortifying it may be to proud Minds, we must say, that we frequently meet with Men in the lower Ranks of Life, sometimes even in
Cities,
often in
Cottages,
who when
instructed
in the Principles of true
Christianity,
are superior in
Knowledge, Worth,
and
Happiness,
to those who hold them in Contempt.
WITH Regard to your Treatment of
ourselves:
It gives us no Concern. For in one Word, Calumnies thrown on whole Bodies of Men, are
unmeaning
and
selfconfuted.
"You may therefore proceed in your Invectives; bestowing as free Language of that Kind, as your
Charity
and superior
Breeding
will permit. You may liberally deal your
courtly Compliments
and
Salutations
in what Dialect you think fit; since for our own Part, neither the the Names of
Bigots, Impostors, Pedants, Formalists, Gladiatorian Penmen, Flaming Champions of the Faith, Black Tribe,
or
Black Enchanters
Names bestowed on the English Clergy throughout the
Characteristics.
, will in the least scandalize us, while the Sentence comes only from
the Enemies of our Master.
On the contrary, we rather strive with ourselves to suppress whatever Vanity might naturally arise in us, from such Favour bestow'd. For whatever may, in the Bottom, be intended us, by such a Treatment, 'tis impossible for us to term it other than
Favour;
since there are certain
Enmities,
which it will be ever esteemed a real Honour
to have merited
See
Misc.
v. c. 3.
."
YOU have indeed wisely and artfully endeavoured to
intimidate
us from exposing the Folly of your
Insults
on
Religion
and
Christianity;
by representing such an Attempt as being in itself
Contemptible.
For thus you are pleased to speak:
"It must be own'd, that when a Writer of any Kind is so
considerable
as to deserve the Labour and Pains of some
shrewd Heads
to refute him in Public, he may, in the Quality of
an Author,
be justly congratulated on that Occasion. 'Tis supposed necessarily, that he must have writ with some kind of
Ability
or
Wit
Misc.
i. c.
."
TO obviate this Remark, is the only further Trouble we shall give your Lordship on the present Occasion. And here without any particular Application to yourself, we must beg Leave to offer the plain Reason why we think your Observation, however plausible and commonly received, is yet entirely groundless. Indeed, with regard to Writings of mere
Speculation
or
Criticism,
which affect not the Happiness of Mankind,
"if Authors write ill they are despised"
and forgotten. At least, as the
Satirist
observes, they ought to be so
Quel Demon vous irrite, & vous porte à medire?
Un Livre vous deplait: Qui vous force à le lire?
Laissiz mourir un Fat dans son Obscurité.
Un Auteur ne peut il
pourrir
Sureté?
Boileau,
Sat.
ix.
: And on this Account, many Parts of the
Characteristics
will, probably, pass for ever
uncensured
by us.
BUT there are other Kinds of bad Writing, which will ever bid fair to
live
and be
admired.
We mean, such as
minister
to the
low Passions
and
Vices
of Mankind; among which, RIDICULE
on
RELIGION is of all others the most favourite Topic. And even where these Affections do not prevail, the generality of Men, thro' the Weakness of Nature, are easily misled in Matters even of the nearest Concernment, by
Sophistry
or
Buffoonry;
by a
Hint,
a
Sarcasm,
or an
Allusion.
Now in this Case, 'tis surely a proper and
rational,
tho' perhaps no
easy
Task, to
detect Misrepresentation,
and lead Mankind back again to the Paths of
Truth
and
Happiness.
For the Effects of
Ridicule
on the
Mind,
resemble those of
Venom
on the
Body;
which, tho' struck into the Blood by a
puny Reptile,
may yet
demand,
nay even
baffle
the Power of the
strongest Medicines.
How then can you affirm that an Effect of this Kind
"
implies
either
Ability
or
Wit,
"
if
Buffoonry
and
Sophistry
can do the Business? And that they
may,
we have your Lordship's
full Acknowledgment;
for, to adopt and conclude with your own Expression,
"In the same Manner as a
malicious
CENSURE,
craftily
worded and pronounced with
Assurance,
is apt to pass with Mankind for
shrewd
WIT; so a
virulent
(or a
visionary
) MAXIM, in
bold
Expressions, tho' without any
Justness
of Thought, is readily received for
true
PHILOSOPHY
Moralists,
P. ii. § 5.
."
FINIS.
ERRATA.
Page
65.
l.
6.
for
emerge
read
immerge.
P.
336.
l.
penult.
for
enjoying
read
enjoining.