xf fs et siaseat eee vanes e ‘es ays ot rs ia fore ee Sree | * : : > ‘ oh, A =e : + ee EU erat ox Ssherstt Avon * ‘3 te ¥ Bete eae F 2 a NTT Pas he % < » BISHOP BUTLER’S » J A i omy ANALOGY OF RELIGION, NATURAL AND REVEALED, * TO THE CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. ‘‘ Bjus (Analogie) hee vis est, ut id quod dubium est, ad aliquid simile, de quo non queeritur, referat, ut incerta certis probet.”—Quinct. Inst. Orat., 1. 1, ¢. vi. WITH , Gn Analysis, \ 4 | NED De to a1 och * 0 LEFT UNFI ISHED BY THE LATE REV. ROBERT EMORY, D.D., PRESIDENT OF DICKINSON COLLEGE: COMPLETED AND EDITED, WITH A LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER, NOTES AND INDEX, BY CR. CROOKS) ~ NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, 829 & 8381 PEARL ST., FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1852. 7 o- "- ¢ a = | r hes >. : a “> » “* . > > r w . + - > bg a. ‘ 5 "tae a » i Po - | a \ : ‘ : e oe , ae > sl ¥ ’ , ~— % - » > 0 . “> vat “i a P S itd os SS eden nS . . - . < *- oT : “ ee .. v? *. d ’ - o — sd ” Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-two, by Harprr & Br in the Clerk’s Office of the District Cou New York. - Sy" ~ s the Southern District of PREFACE. Tx Analysis, which is the principal feature of the present edition of Butler’s Analogy, was completed by the late Pre- sident Emory, of Dickinson College, to the end of Chap. 2, Part II. A slight skeleton, however, which was found among his papers, indicated, to some extent, the plan he intended to pursue, in analyzing the rest of the work. This has been freely used, so that the Editor confidently hopes no important deviation has been made from the lamented author’s original design. The Biographical Sketch will be found to contain some new facts, not heretofore published in this country. For these, the public are indebted to the researches of Rev. Thomas Bartlett, of England. The Editor has ventured a few notes, and has added a few from Dr. Chalmers? lectures on the Analogy, and, at the request of the publishers, a number from Professor Vitz- gerald’s edition of the work. They are designed mainly for the elucidation of the text, rather than for comment. Notes not by Bishop Butler are enclosed in brackets. It is not generally known that aa Index to the Analogy was executed in Bishop Butler’s lifetime, by Dr. Bentham, of the (iii) Ni 4 ' i ? PREFACE. lv. - University of Oxford, and revised and approved by the Bishop himself It is only recently that it has come to light. The Index herewith presented, though based on Dr. Bentham’s, has been carefully re-written, and we trust will be found abundantly useful for reference. +. Dr. Emory was led to prepare the Analysis by the observa- tion of the difficulties encountered by students in grasping the subtle, and not always happily expressed, argument of the Analogy. Those who enjoyed the benefit of his instructions during his lifetime, will recognize at once in it the marks of his eminently clear, logical intellect. It is not to be sup- posed that any analysis will supersede the necessity of close attention in the study of Butler; but this being given, it is believed that the helps here provided will enable the student to obtain a distinct, satisfactory impression of the course of reasoning in this unanswerable defence of our common Chris- tianity. PHILADELPHIA, July 1, 1852. LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. Ag (v) Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2022 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library https://archive.org/details/bishopbutlersana0Obutl_ 0 THE LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. Oe i Oil Mr. Bartiert, who is connected by marriage with the de- scendants of Bishop Butler’s eldest brother, has collected from family sources a number of interesting facts, illustrative of the life and character of the Author of the Analogy. These he has added to the only memoir of Butler previously given to the world,—that of Dr. Kippis, first published in the Biographia Britannica, —and has presented the whole as the most complete account of the subject at present attainable. We may there- fore suppose, that we have reached the ne plus ultra of our inquiries in this direction. All that affection and tradition had treasured up, has been spread before us; and we may now sit down, and tell over our scanty store, glad that it is as abundant as it is. We owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Bartlett, for giving us a better view of Butler as a man than we had before. In the following sketch, we shall endeavour to spread before the reader, the new information derived from these sources, using, for the sake of connection, the facts already known and familiar. Josupu Burier was born in the market town of Wantage, in Berkshire, England, on the 18th-of May, 1692. He was the youngest of eight children. His father, Thomas Butler, was a respectable and prosperous linen-draper in Wantage, but at the time of Joseph’s birth had retired from business, and was residing at the extremity of the town, in a house called the Priory. The house, though since much altered, is yet standing, and the room is still shown, in which Butler is said to have been born. His education was begun in the Grammar School of his (vil) vill LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. a native place, under the direction of the Rev. Philip Barton, a clergyman of the Church of England. Here he was grounded in the elements cf classical knowledge. But his father, soon perceiving his son’s talent and inclination for learning, deter- mined to rear him for the ministry in his own denomination, (the Presbyterian,) and for this purpose removed him to a Dis- senting academy at Gloucester, then kept by Mr. Samuel Jones. Mr. Jones is mentioned by Butler’s biographer with great honour, as having had in the number of his pupils, many distinguished men. Among these we find the names of Lardner, author of the Credibility of the Gospels; Lord Bowes, Chancellor of Ire- land; Dr. Edward Chandler; and Secker, Butler’s intimate and inseparable friend, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. Butler was exceedingly happy in his friendships. His inti- macy with Secker began in early youth, and lasted without interruption through along life. Secker outlived Butler, and in his last years gave earnest proof of his affection, by the energy with which he defended the memory of his friend from unjust aspersions The influence of this, and another intimacy, upon Butler’s whole career, will be frequently seen in the course of this sketch. From a very early period of life, his thoughts were directed to subjects of metaphysical and theological inquiry. At the age of twenty-one, and while yet a pupil in Mr. Jones’ academy, he gave astonishing proof of his intellectual vigour, and of his progress in such studies, by his anonymous correspondence with Dr. Samuel Clarke, the author of the celebrated “ Demonstra- tion of the Being and Attributes of God.” The Demonstration had just been published, and was attracting universal attention. What Clarke professed to have accomplished, Butler had long been endeavouring to do. In his first letter to the doctor, he writes thus : ‘“‘T have made it my business, ever since I thought myself capable of such sort of reasoning, to prove to myself the being and attributes of God. And being sensible that it is a matter of the last conse- LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. ix ~~ quence, I have endeavoured after a demonstrative proof; not only more fully to satisfy my own mind, but also in order to defend the great truths of natural religion, and those of the Christian revelation which follow from them, against all opposers: but must own, with concern, that hitherto I have been unsuccessful; and though I have got very probable arguments, yet I can go very little way with demon- stration in the proof of these things.” He was not able to satisfy himself of the conclusiveness of the reasoning in the sixth and seventh propositions, (on the omnipresence and unity of the Deity;) and he states, in the most modest terms, the objections thereto which had arisen in his mind. His diffidence led him to conceal his name; and the correspondence was managed by Secker, who carried the letters to the post-office at Gloucester, and brought back Clarke’s replies. His objections show the penetrating metaphysician, and the cautious and solid reasoner, already developed. With Clarke’s explanation of the first of the two propositions, he professed himself satisfied: but in removing the objections to the other, the author of the demonstration was not so success- ful; and the correspondence, after extending to five letters from each, closed. In his last letter, the doctor speaks in the highest terms of the candour of his opponent, and afterwards evinced his opinion of the merit of the correspondence, by appending it to the succeeding editions of the Demonstration. Of these letters of Butler’s, Sir James Mackintosh says, ‘‘ He suggested objections to the celebrated demonstration, which are really in- superable, and which are marked by an acuteness which neither he nor any other ever surpassed.””* It is well to observe, that Butler’s efforts to obtain demon- strative evidence for the truths of religion seem here to have * We believe that it is now generally conceded, that attempts to prove the existence of God demonstratively, are more than useless. ‘*« No matter of fact can be mathematically demonstrated, though it may be proved in such a manner as to leave no doubt on the mind”’— Whateley’s Logic, hook iv. chap. 2. x LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. ceased. Where Clarke ended, Butler began. The remaining years of the author of the Analogy were spent in bringing to bear upon Christianity that evidence of probability which, though less imposing than demonstration, is yet capable of rising to the highest moral certainty ; and in tracing out the close resemblance. between the light afforded us by revelation, and that which we enjoy in our common and daily life. Soon after, there occurred a change in his views, which altered all the outward relations of his life. He became dissatisfied with the grounds of non-conformity, and resolved to unite with the Established Church. This step was taken after much reflec- tion, and doubtless from conscientious impulses; but it was by no means agreeable to the wishes of his father. Several neigh- bouring Presbyterian ministers were accordingly summoned to assist in removing the young student’s scruples, but without success. And Thomas Butler, finding his son’s purpose of con- forming was not to be shaken, at length yielded, and entered him as a commoner of Oriel College, Oxford, on the 17th of March, 1714. At Oxford he formed an intimacy with Mr. Edward Talbot, second son of Dr. Edward Talbot, afterwards Bishop of Dur- ham. ‘This friendship was the means of securing to Butler the patronage of Mr. Talbot’s father. Through the influence of his young friend, and that of his former correspondent, Dr. Clarke, he was, in 1718, appointed preacher at the Rolls’ Court, London. He was then in his twenty-sixth year, and had not been long ordained. The mind of Secker underwent, though more slowly, the same change as Butler’s, on the subject of conformity; and young Mr. Talbot, about this time dying, so effectually commended them both to the favour of his father, that Dr. Talbot, upon his translation to the see of Durham, in 1721, presented Butler with the living of Haughton, and Secker, shortly after, with that of Haughton-le-Spring. The parsonage at Haughton being in a dilapidated state, But- ler determined to repair it. A passion for rebuilding and orna- LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. Xl menting seenis to have possessed him throughout the whole of his long life. He was jealous of the external glory of the Church. With but one exception, wherever he resided he either altered, or enlarged, or restored, In his last charge, he quotes, with great approbation, the language of Bishop Fleetwood, that ‘unless the good public spirit of building, repairing, and adorn- ing churches prevails a great deal more among us, a hundred years will bring to the ground a huge number of churches.’’ In the after part of his life, having purchased an elegant man- sion at Hampstead, he ornamented some of the windows with beautiful painted glass, representing various Scriptural subjects. But in improving the private chapel in the episcopal palace at Bristol, the erection of a cross—though doubtless innocently meant — occasioned great controversy and trouble. Had he executed his contemplated repairs at Haughton, he would have become seriously involved; for the entire sum due from the parish for dilapidations was only sixty pounds. But his friend Secker rescued him from such a prospect of trouble, by pre- vailing on Bishop Talbot to transfer him, in 1725, to the richer benefice of Stanhope, where, fortunately, there was no occasion for any repairing to be done. Soon after his translation to Stanhope, he resigned his ap- pointment at the Rolls; but before resigning, he published his “ Fifteen Sermons,’ dedicating them to Sir Joseph Jekyl, Master of the Rolls, “as a parting mark of gratitude for the favour received during his connexion with that learned society.’’ We are informed in the preface, that the selection of these ser- mons “from amongst others preached in the same place, during a course of eight years,’’ was altogether accidental. Bishop Butler, at his death, ordered all his manuscripts to be destroyed. These sermons are of such inestimable value in settling the true grounds of ethical science, that great regret has been expressed, that the others, thus accidentally omitted, were not also pre- served. Butler assuredly knew the value of his own writings: xii YIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. it has therefore been conjectured* that the remaining sermons were wrought into the Analogy; and that this was his reason for directing them to be “burnt, without being read by any one.’ “Jn these sermons,” says Sir James Mackintosh, “he has taught truths more capable of being exactly distinguished from the doctrines of his predecessors, more satisfactorily esta- blished by him, more comprehensively applied to particulars, more rationally connected with each other, and therefore more worthy of the name of discovery, than any with which we are acquainted.’’ His contributions to a correct theory of morals, consist: 1. In his distinction between self-love and the primary appetites; and, 2. In his clear exposition of the existence and supremacy of conscience. The objects of our appetites and passions are out- ward things, which are sought simply as ends; thus food is the object of hunger, and drink the object of thirst. Some of the primary desires lead directly to-our private good, and others to the good of the community. Hunger and thirst, above cited, are instances of the former; the affection for one’s child is an instance of the latter. They may be considered as so many simple impulses, which are to be guided and controlled by our higher powers. Pleasure is the concomitant of their gratifica- tion; but, in their original state, is no separate part of the aim of the agent. All these primary impulses are contemplated by self-love, as the material owt of which happiness is to be con- structed. Self-love is a regard for our happiness as a whole: such a regard is not a vice, but a commendable quality. Self- love is not selfishness. Selfishness is destructive of human hap- piness, and, as such, self-love condemns it. The so-called benevolent affections are consequently disinterested ; as likewise are (in their incomplex manifestations) our physical appetites und malevolent feelings. But besides these principles of our nature, there is one, which is supreme over all others: this is * This conjecture is Prof. Fitzgerald’s, LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. xvi conscience. Shaftsbury had before pointed out the emotional character of conscience, under the term moral sense; but its distinguishing attribute of supremacy he had failed to notice. Butler, acknowledging the correctness of his lordship’s partial view, combined with it the element necessary to make an entire truth,*—the character of conscience, as the highest tribunal of man’s nature, “which surveys, approves, or disapproves the several affections of our minds, and passions of our lives.” The practical weakness of conscience does not destroy its authority ; and though its mandates are often disregarded, yet the obliga- tions to render it obedience remain unimpaired. In this view of the several principles within us, and their relations to each other, virtue may be said, in the language of the ancients, to consist in following nature; that is, nature correctly interpreted and understood. It is remarkable, that in the second edition of the Sermons, published in 1729, Butler defends his style from the charge of obscurity. As this complaint is one frequently made still, it is well to hear what he says for himself. “It must be acknow- ledged,”’ he tells us, ‘‘that some of the following discourses are very abstruse and difficult, or, if you please, obscure; but I must take leave to add, that those alone are judges, whether or no, and how far, this is a fault, who are judges, whether or no, and how far, it might have been avoided—those only who will be at the trouble to understand what is here said, and to see how far the things here insisted upon, and not other things, might have been put in a plainer manner; which yet I am very far from asserting that they could not. Thus much, however, will be allowed, that general criticisms concerning obscurity, considered as a distinct thing from confusion and perplexity of * «The not taking into consideration this authority, which is im- plied in the idea of reflex approbation or disapprobation, seems a material deficiency or omission in Lord Shaftsbury 6 ‘Inquiry con- cerning Virtue.’ ’—Butler’s preface to the Sermons. 1 XiV LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. thoughi, as in some cases there may be ground for them, so in others, they may be nothing more at bottom than complaints, that everything is not to be understood with the same ease that some things are. Confusion and perplexity of writing is, in- deed, without excuse; because any one may, if he pleases, know whether he understands and sees through what he is about: and it is unpardonable for a man to lay his thoughts before others, when he is conscious that he himself does not know whereabouts he is, and how the matter before him stands. It is coming abroad in disorder, which he ought to be dissatis- fied to find himself in at home.” We must infer from this pas- sage, that Butler was not conscious (at least at this period of his life) of those defects, which have been universally attributed to his style. All that he has written is so compressed, that he cannot be well understood, without corresponding concentration of mind on the part of his reader. His very caution makes his progress toward any given point appear slow and laborious. But he is nowhere guilty of what, in this extract, he considers almost a crime—confusion of thought. On the contrary, the more attentively he is studied, the more do new light and truth break forth from his well-compacted sentences. Passages are not wanting which are happily expressed; and the whole of chap. v., of part II. of the Analogy, reads smoothly enough to satisfy the most fastidious critic. After leaving London in 1726, he lived in retirement at Stanhope for a period of seven years. Here he planned and wrote the Analogy. Of the details of his private life during this period we know little or nothing. We learn that he was scrupulously faithful in the discharge of his clerical duties; that he was much beloved by his parishioners; and that he was exceedingly kind to the poor. But Secker, fearing that Butler’s spirits were suffering from so much close stud y and seclusion, pre- vailed upon Lord Chancellor Talbot, (the brother of the deceased Edward Talbot) to nominate him his chaplain, in 1733, and a prebendary of Rochester in 1736. Through the indefatigable LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. XV exertions of the same friend, his name was brought to the notice of Queen Caroline... This was soon followed by his appointment to be clerk of the closet to the queen. Indeed, Butler found, ever after, in her a firm and fast friend. She was exceedingly fond of philosophers and philosophic conversation ; and her chaplain’s attendance was therefore commanded every evening from seven till nine. In 1736 the Analogy was published, with a dedication to Lord Chancellor Talbot. It attracted so much attention upon its first appearance, that a second edition was published the same year. It has been pronounced, by the universal consent of thinking men, to be a work, which, in the originality of its plan, and the skill of its execution, is exceeded by no other upon the evidences of religion ever written. It was a book for the times, but the author so constructed it as to give it a value for all time. “It is come,” he says in his advertisement, “to be taken for granted by many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry, but that it is now at length dis- covered to be fictitious.” A scoffing way of treating religion prevailed among the educated and polite of the age. It was considered a mark of spirit to make an open profession of free- thinking. “Plausible objections were urged against particular doctrines; difficulties were exaggerated; and Christianity was made a matter of ridicule, “as it were by way of reprisals, for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of. the world.” This habit of confining the attention to what could be said against the various doctrines of religion destroyed the effect of its evidences. These objections had therefore to be met directly. The doctrines had to be extricated from the entanglement of sophistry, in which they were involved. Besides this, by a summary process the evidence of Christianity was rejected : for it was argued that there could be no doubtfulness in the evi- dence of a genuine revelation, and as it was claimed that Chris- tianity was deficient in this particular, the testimonies for its truth were dismissed without a hearing. Into such a contro- Xvi LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. versy as this, Butler could not fail to enter with all his soul, and yet, as has been well remarked, his book has nothing of a controversial tone. He vindicates the truths both of natural religion and of Christianity, by showing that they are paralleled by the facts of our experience; and that nature, considered as a revelation of God, teaches (though to a more limited extent, and in a more imperfect way) the same lessons as the Scriptures. He proves that the evidence is the same as that upon which we act in our temporal concerns; and that perhaps it is left as it is, that our behaviour with regard to it may be part of our pro- bation for a future life. Nor does the aim of the Analogy stop here. The opinion has very extensively prevailed, that the utility of the work con- sists solely in answering such objections as those above described. Dr. Reid, the Scotch philosopher, has so expressed himself. Of a like purport is the happily conceived language of Dr. Campbell: “ Analogical evidence is generally more successful in silencing objections, than in evincing truth. Though it rarely refutes, it frequently repels refutation; like those wea- pons, which, though they cannot kill the enemy, will ward his blows.’’ The outward form of the Analogy, to be sure, gives some countenance to this view; for the objector is followed through all the mazes of his error. But, besides the effect of particular analogies, there is the effect of the Analogy as a whole; of the likeness so beautifully developed between the system of nature, and the system of grace. Every one who has received the dotal impression of the argument, is conscious that he has derived therefrom new convictions of the truth of religion, and that these convictions rest on a basis peculiarly their own. On this point, Butler’s own language is quite defi- nite: “This treatise will be, to such as are convinced of religion, upon the proof arising out of the two last-mentioned principles, [liberty and moral fitness,] an additional proof, and a confirma- tion of it; to such as do not admit those principles, an original proof of it, and a confirmation of that proof. Those who be- LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. XVii lieve, will here find the scheme of Christianity cleared of objec- tions, and the evidence of it in a peculiar manner strengthened ; those who do not believe, will at least be shown the absurdity of all attempts to prove Christianity false, the plain, undoubted credibility of it, and, I hope, a good deal more.”— Part IL., chap. vill. It is not contended that all the analogies are alike striking : some are of a negative kind, designed to silence objections; others again are adduced with a view to raising a positive pre- sumption for the points on which they bear. But we humbly submit, that the whole result is positive, and not merely the bringing of the evidence from minus up to zero. Neither does it make against the Analogy, that the resemblance between the course of nature and Christianity is not shown in more nume- rous particulars; for Butler well says, we have no reason to believe “that the whole course of things naturally unknown to us, and every thing in it, is like to any thing in that which is known.’’— Part II., chap. ii. This would be to seek an iden- tity of fact, where we should only look for an identity of prin- ciple. This work was the favourite study of Queen Caroline. Her partiality for it was the occasion of the following sneer of Lord Bolingbroke’s: ‘She studies,” says he, “with much applica- tion, the ‘Analogy of Revealed Religion to the Constitution and Course of Nature.’ She understands the whole argument perfectly, and concludes, with the right reverend author, that it is not ‘so clear a case, that there is nothing in revealed religion.’ Such royal, such lucrative encouragement must needs keep both metaphysics and the sublimest theology in credit.” But the very year after the publication of the Analogy the Queen died. Before her death, however, she earnestly commended Butler to the patronage of her husband, George II.; so that, in 1738, upon the translation of Dr. Gooch from the See of Bristol to that of Norwich, the Bishopric of Bristol was given to Butler. 1* XVIil LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. Bristol was the poorest of the English sees, the revenues being but £400 per annum, and Gooch’s claims are said to have been far inferior to those of the author of the Analogy. Butler, though a modest man, was by no means destitute of spirit; and in the letter to Walpole, in which he acknowledged and accepted his appointment, he resented, in strong terms, the slight which it implied. The effect of his remonstrance was soon perceived ; for in 1740, the king nominated him to the Deanery of St. Paul's, London. Immediately upon obtaining this promotion, he resigned his living at Stanhope, which he had till then retained, and his prebendary stall at Rochester. The large revenues of the Deanery of St. Paul’s enabled him to gratify his taste for building and ornament. He is said to have expended, in improving the episcopal palace at Bristol, between four and five thousand pounds, a greater sum than he received from the Bishopric during the whole period of his incumbency. ‘To assist in what was to him a labour of love, the merchants of that city presented him with a large quantity of cedar. In altering the private chapel, he placed (as already stated) a white marble cross over the communion table. This unfortunate step not only occasioned scandal at the time, but gave plausibility to the charge of a leaning towards Popery, which was made in the latter part of his life, and after his death. The cross remained in its place until the destruction of the palace by a mob, in 1831. In 1746 he was made clerk to the closet of George II. In 1747, upon the decease of Archbishop Potter, he was offered the Primacy, but refused it, declaring, “that it was too late for him to try to support a falling Church.” He took a gloomy view of the prospects of the Establishment. His relations at Wantage wished very much to see him elevated to that high dig- nity; and one of his nephews, supposing that his uncle’s refusal grew out of a fear of the heavy expenses to be incurred at his entrance upon the office, offered to advance £20,000, or any other sum which might be thought necessary. He was exceed- —__ LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. ab. ingly dissatisfied when he found the Bishop’s purpose was not to be altered. The see of Durham becoming vacant in 1750, by the decease of Dr. Edward Chandler, the king was desirous of advancing Butler to it. When, however, Butler understood that the lieu- tenancy of the county, which had usually gone with the Bishop- ric, was about to be separated from it, he at first declined the honour. He appears to have been unwilling that the see should lose a single one of its established dignities. Out of regard to his feelings in this particular, the proposed change was deferred until the next vacancy. Another instance of his delicacy of feeling in this connection is given by the present Bishop of Exeter. ‘On his translation, the Deanery of St. Paul’s was to be vacated. The minister wished to give it to Butler’s oldest and best friend, Secker, who held a stall at Durham, which, in that case, it was proposed that the Crown should give to Dr. Chapman. Unfortunately, the arrangement was mentioned to Butler defore he was translated; and highly gratifying as it would have been to him for Secker’s sake, his conscience took the alarm, lest it should bear even the semblance of a condition of his own promotion. He for some time hesitated, in conse- quence, to accept the splendid station, which solicited him; nor did he yield till his scruple respecting all possible notion of con- dition was removed.” What his feelings were upon this accession of honour and fortune, is shown in the following extract from a letter to a friend — ‘‘Increase of fortune is insignificant to one who thought he had enough before; and I foresee many difficulties in the station I am coming into; and no advantage worth thinking of, except some greater power of being serviceable to others; and whether this be an advan- tage, entirely depends on the use one shall make of it: I pray God it may be a good one. It would be a melancholy thing, in the close of life, to have no reflections to entertain one’s self with, but that one had spent the revenues of the Bishopric of Durham, in a sumptuous course of living, and enriched one’s friends with the promotions of it, xX LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. instead of having really set one’s self to do good, and promote worthy men; yet this right use of fortune and power is more difficult than the generality of even good people think, and requires both a guard upon one’s self, and a strength of mind to withstand solicitations, greater, I wish I may not find it, than I am master of.” In the year 1750, Bishop Butler drew up a plan for intro- ducing Kpiscopacy into America. Up to this time, and after- wards, the Established Church, in the English Colonies, was under the charge of the Bishop of London, through whose com- missaries its affairs were managed. As this plan of Butler’s is highly illustrative of the wisdom and moderation of his cha- racter, we subjoin it entire :— «1. That no coercive power is desired over the laity in any case, but only a power to regulate the behaviour of the clergy, who are in episcopal orders; and to correct and punish them according to the laws of the Church of England, in case of misbehaviour or neglect of duty, with such power as the commissioners abroad have exercised. «2. That nothing is desired for such Bishops, that may in the least interfere with the dignity, or authority, or interest of the Governor or any other officer of state. Probates of will, license for marriages, &c., to be kept in the hands where they are; and no share in the tem- poral government is desired for Bishops. «3. The maintenance of such Bishops not to be at the charge of the colonies. ‘4. No Bishops are intended to be settled, where the government is left in the hands of Dissenters, as in New England, &. But authority to be given only to ordain clergy for such Church of Eng- land congregations as are among them, and to inspect into the manners and behaviour of such clergy, and to confirm the members thereof.” This plan awakened so much opposition among those for Whom it was intended, and particularly in New England, that, though revived again as late as 1763, it was finally abandoned. Shortly after his arrival in his diocese, Butler addressed to his clergy a charge upon the “Use and Importance of External Religion.” Alas! it was the only one he was permitted to de- LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. XX1 liver as Bishop of Durham. This charge, though full of excel- lent advices to the clergy, yet contains some statements which are liable to be misunderstood. Indeed, it may be doubted, whether its fundamental idea is not a mistaken one. After stating, that the distinction of the age was “a scorn of religion in some persons, and a disregard of it in the generality,’’ he proceeds to give some directions upon the best means of reviving piety among the common people. These he conceives to be: “the keeping up the form and face of religton,’’ and “ then endeavouring to make this form subservient to promote its reality and power.” The repairing of churches, the regular at- tendance upon Divine service, uniformity in public and private prayer, the offering of thanks at meals, the catechism and in- struction of children, etc., are the several steps of this process proposed. He fortifies his assertion of the power of forms, by instancing the influence of the forms of Mohammedanism, of Catholicism, and of the old ritual of the Jews. We humbly conceive that when practical piety is dying away in a nation, the effort to resuscitate it by a renewed devotion to external re- ligion, is simply beginning at the end. The form is the symbol of an inward feeling and life; and when the internal correspon- — dent is gone, a more rigid observance of the form may produce superstition, but it can effect no good,—it cannot awaken the dead. That Mohammedanism, whose power Butler cites, gained its triumphs over Christianity, and seized the time-honoured seats of our faith, because the Fathers, by unwisely teaching a ritual religion first, and a spiritual one afterwards, had made the Church superstitious in doctrine, corrupt in practice, and feeble to resist the inroads of error. John Wesley, a presbyter of the Church of England, was a contemporary of Butler’s: he saw the lamentable irreligion of the common people, and de- plored it as deeply as the Bishop himself; and, with his pecu- liar sagacity, he discerned that the evil was only to be remedied by an earnest, spiritual preaching, addressed to them in a style suited to their capacities and wants. In the year 1750, the XXil LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. period of Butler’s accession to the See of Durham, he had already been engaged eleven years in his career of mingled obloquy and triumph. His success is a matter of history. The parish churches were filled with hearers, and their altars were crowded with communicants, who, having been aroused to a sense of their duty by his appeals, hastened to render their obe- dience to the outward service and ritual of the Church. And all this was the least of the fruit of his labours. From the time of the publication of this discourse, until some years after his death, Butler was violently assailed in pamphlets and newspapers, as addicted to superstition, as inclined to Po- pery; and finally, as dying in the communion of the Church of Rome. The acrimony of these assaults is undoubtedly to be attributed to the violence of party spirit. Butler’s detestation of Popery is strongly enough expressed in his works ;* and the charge itself was the offspring of a pure desire to promote a revival of the vital spirit of religion in Kngland. It can only be objected against, as proposing means the most unsuitable of all for accomplishing this end. His life at Durham exhibits the same tastes and habits which have been described in the preceding pages. Having now a magnificent income, he made extensive repairs in Durham Cas- tle, and greatly improved the episcopal residence at Auckland. At the same time he gave still wider scope to his almost un- bounded benevolence. He is said to have subscribed £400 per annum to the county hospital. Considering it his duty to sup- port the dignity of his station with liberality, he set apart three days of every week for the entertainment of the neighbouring gentry. He was likewise exceedingly attentive to his clerical brethren. The following incident shows his benevolence in a very pleasing light :— * See the Sermon before the House of Lords, and the remarks on positive institutions, Analogy, part IL., chap. i. LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. XXIil ‘¢A gentleman once waited upon him with the details of some pro- jected benevolent institution. The bishop highly approved of the object in view, and calling his house-steward, inquired how much money he then had in his possession. The answer was: ‘ Five hun- dred pounds, my lord.’ ‘Five hundred pounds!’ exclaimed his mas- ter; ‘What a shame for a bishop to have so much money! Give it away; give it all to this gentleman, for his charitable plan.’ ”-—Bart- lett, p. 196. He once declared to his under-secretary, Mr. Emm :—‘“ I> should feel ashamed of myself, if I could leave ten thousand pounds behind me.’ And in this he kept his word; he died worth but little over nine thousand. We believe this sum was not quite half his annual income. But though liberal in dis- pensing the hospitalities of his station, he was exceedingly sim- ple in his private habits. It is related, that a young gentleman of fortune once dined by appointment with him, and the table was set out with nothing more than a joint of meat and a pud- ding. The bishop apologized for his fare, by saying, “That it was his way of living; that he had been long disgusted with the fashionable expense of time and money at entertainments, and was determined that it should receive no countenance from his example.’’ He was rigidly honest in distributing his patronage: Tt was his desire to prefer worthy and parable men to benefices in his gift; but the sudden termination of his life prevented him from carrying out his purposes, in this respect, to any great extent. He did not suffer the claims of relationship to warp his impar- tiality. His eccentric nephew, John Butler, in expressing his disappointment, that the bishop had done so little for his family, is reported to have said very bluntly, —“ Methinks, my lord, it is a misfortune to be related to you !’’ But, as if to give another proof of the vanity of all earthly things, two years had scarcely elapsed after the settlement of the bishop in the See of Durham, when his health began to fail. Upon the advice of the most eminent physicians, he at first tried XXIV LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. the waters of Clifton: but these affording no relief, he was con- veyed, in a sinking condition, to Bath. Here he was constantly attended by his chaplain Dr. Forster, and was visited by his friend, Bishop Benson. Secker was himself just recovering from illness, and could not safely travel. From Dr. Forster’s fre- quent letters to Secker, we have a full account of Butler’s last hours. In one of these, he writes: “All his physicians seem to be clear that his disorder is owing to some obstructions in the organs of digestion, without being able to tell where the fault principally lies. They say, however, that he is so weak at pre- sent, that any attempt to remove these obstructions as yet, would be death to him.” Benson, the day after Butler’s death, writes to Secker on this point more definitely :—“ The liver, by the account which the physicians gave, was so much decayed that no art was capable of restoring it; and nothing but the forma- tion of a new organ could restore him.” His weakness was so great, that during these closing scenes he spoke but little. In parting with Benson, he remarked, says the Bishop, “It must be a farewell for ever; and said kind and affecting things more , than I could bear.” After lingering thus twelve days, he died, June 16th, 1752, in the 604K year of his age. Tradition reports several expressions, as being among the dying words of Butler, all going to show that he expired with an humble trust in the Saviour; but as these, though perhaps founded upon truth, are not substantiated by any direct evidence, they are here omitted. On Saturday, June 20th, he was interred in the cathedral at Bristol. Over his remains there was placed a marble stone, with an inscription by Dr. Forster. In the year 1834, an ele- gant monument was erected, by subscription, in Bristol cathe- dral, to his memory. Part of the funds for this purpose was contributed by Oriel College, as a testimonial of their reverence for the memory of the eminent scholar, and divine, who had gone forth from their midst. A beautiful inscription was fur- nished for this monument by Dr. Southey. Three portraits of Butler were taken while he lived: the first during his residence LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. XXV at Stanhope, in the fortieth year of his age; the second shortly after he was made Bishop of Bristol; and the last, not long before his death, when his body was already beginning to sink under the attacks of disease. The engravings from the first likeness show a calm and benignant countenance, regular and delicate features, with a sweetness of expression shining through- out, which hardly could have failed to win attachment and love. The following descriptions will assist us in conceiving his per- sonal appearance in the latter part of his life. The first is from Hutchinson’s History of Durham, and the second from Surtees’ account of the same place :— ‘‘ He was of a most reverend aspect: his face thin and pale; but there was a Divine placidness in his countenance, which inspired vene- ration, and expressed the most benevolent mind. His white hair hung gracefully on his shoulders, and his whole figure was patriarchal.” ‘‘ During the short time that Butler held the See of Durham, he conciliated all hearts. In advanced years, and on the episcopal throne, he retained the same genuine modesty, and native sweetness of dis- position, which had distinguished him in youth and in retirement. During the ministerial performance of the sacred office, a Divine ani- mation seemed to pervade his whole manner, and lighted up his pale, wan countenance, already marked with the progress of disease, like a torch glimmering in its socket, yet bright and useful to the last!” He was regular in his attendance upon Parliament, but never spoke in the House of Lords. This fact led Horace Walpole to say, that “the Bishop of Durham had been wafted to that see in a cloud of metaphysics, and remained absorbed in it !”’ Such was Butler. His pure, transparent character needs no elaborate summary. His was not one of those close, hidden natures, which elude and perplex us after the most searching study. The marks of truth and goodness here are so plain, that he who runs can read them. He was no illustration of Bacon’s aphorism, that “The way to great place is by a winding stair.’’ No crooked courses, nor time-serving, nor dancing attendance upon the great, brought him to eminence. His dignities were XXVi LIFE OF BISHOP BUTLER. thrust upon him. It does not in our land (saving as a proof of the esteem of his contemporaries) heighten our regard, to know that he was invested with the lordly honours of an English See. All that was the transitory, the outward decking, which in itself has no lustre. But his scrupulous conscientiousness, his sincerity of purpose, his honesty of action, his life-long endea- vours to do good,—these are the abiding, the immortal, and stamp him infallibly as a true man. His position in Theology has been compared with that of Bacon in Philosophy. Both relied upon observation for the dis- covery of truth; both strenuously opposed hasty theorizing; both rested their systems upon the sure ground of fact. Indeed, analogy and induction involve similar mental operations. In those departments of inquiry, to which his attention was chiefly directed, Butler enjoys the good fortune to have written nothing which is yet cast aside as error; with the lapse of time, men’s confidence in his views has increased. His influence upon the thinking world has been deep and wide; for he has spoken through others, as well as in his own person. His friend Secker, in his own day, popularized him; Paley has translated him in his admirably executed Evidences; Chalmers has gloried in being his expounder; and our Wayland has acknowledged him as the principal source of his theory of Ethics. If any judg- ment can be formed from the variety of editions issued, his works are more read now than ever. He has reared for himself an enduring monument. John Wesley, long ago, said, “that the Analogy was too deep for the men for whom it was written; for he had found that free- _ thinkers were not usually close thinkers.’’ It has, however, proved a precious legacy to the Church: for often the very objections which are boastfully urged by the sceptic, afflict and distress the believer’s heart. To him,these unanswerable rea- sonings are then a help and relief, to clear his vision, to quiet his doubts, to animate and strengthen his fondest hopes. A NVACTEY eS 16S OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. (Xxvil) ON Ae i oo INTRODUCTION. I. Analogical reasoning in general. (Pp. 83-85.) 1. Nature. (Pp. 83, 84.) 2. Use. (P: 84.) 8. Value. (Pp. 84, 85.) II. Application of it to religion. (Pp. 86-90.) 1. Propriety of such application. (P. 86.) 2. Superiority of this mode of argument to hypothesis and speculation. (Pp. 86-89.) 8. Method of the argument. (Pp. 89, 90.) I. Analogical reasoning in general. (Pp. 83-85.) 1. Nature. (Pp. 83, 84.) Probable evidence, as distinguished from demonstrative, ad- mits of degrees. The foundation of probability is verisimili- tude, i. e. likeness to some truth, or true event; and according to the degree of likeness, there is produced either a presump- tion, or an opinion, or full conviction. 2. Use. (P. 84.) Probable evidence is relative only to beings of limited capa- city, since nothing which is the possible object of knowledge can be probable to an infinite intelligence. 8. Value. (Pp. 84, 85.) To us, probability is the very guide of life. Even in specula- tion, we have to decide for that side, on which lies the greater presumption; and in practice, we are bound, in point of pru- dence, to act on still lower presumptions; yea, often even where the chance is greatly against our succeeding. This general way of arguing then, is evidently natural, just, and conclusive. II. Application of analogical reasoning to religion. (Pp. 86-90.) 1. Propriety of such application. (P. 86.) 2 (xxix) ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. If the Scripture and the constitution of nature have the same Author, we may expect to find the same sort of difficulties in both; therefore such difficulties no more prove the former not to be from God than the latter. An Author of Nature being supposed, an analogy or likeness between the system of revelation and the known course of nature, affords a pre- sumption that they have the same author; and furnishes an answer to such objections against the former’s being from God, as would lie equally against the latter. . Superiority of this mode of argument to hypothesis and spec- ulation. (Pp. 86-89.) To form our notions of the constitution and government of the world upon reasoning, without foundation for our princi- ples, or upon reasoning from principles which are certain, but applied to cases to which we have no ground to apply them, are kindred errors. But it is just to argue from known facts to such as are like them, —from what now is to what shall be, —from what we see, to what lies beyond us. We ought not to speculate how the world might have been, or ought to have been framed otherwise than it is; for we have not the requisite faculties for such speculations. If we must con- clude, that the ultimate end designed is the most virtue and happiness possible, yet we cannot judge what are the neces- sary means of accomplishing this end. - Method of the argument. (Pp. 89-90.) We ought to observe how the teachings of religion correspond with the known constitution and course of nature. This anal- ogy will amount, in some few instances, to a practical proof ; and where it does not, it will still be a confirmation of what is proved in other ways— will show that religion is not a sub- ject of ridicule, unless nature be so too, and will afford an answer to almost all objections against the system of religion, and, in a very considerable degree, to the objections against the evidence of it. It is proposed, therefore, in this treatise, to show that the particular parts principally objected against in natural and revealed religion, are analogous to the constitu- tion and course of nature; and that this argument is of weight on the side of religion, notwithstanding any objections which may seem to lie against it, and any difference of opinion re- specting the degree of its weight. ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. XXxXI 1 £28. sd Lah De NATURAL RELIGION. OUTLINE. I. THE PLAN OF NATURAL RELIGION. Chaps. 1-5. 1. THat MANKIND ARE APPOINTED TO LIVE IN A FuTURE STATE. Chap. 1. 2. THAT THERE EVERY ONE SHALL BE REWARDED OR PUNISHED. Chap. 2. 8. REWARDED OR PUNISHED, AS VIRTUOUS OR Vicrous. Chap. 38. 4, THat oun Present Lire 1s A PROBATION FOR THAT FUTURE one. Chaps. 4, 5. (1.) A Propation implying TRIAL, DIFFICULTIES, AND DAN- Ger. Chap. 4. (2.) A PROBATION INTENDED For Mora Discrpiine. Chap. 5. (8.) A PROBATION INTENDED FOR THE MANIFESTATION OF PER- SONS’ CHARACTERS TO THE CREATION. Close of Chap. 5. II. OBJECTIONS TO THE PLAN ANSWERED. Chaps. 6, 7. 1. OBsEcTIONS To Irs Existence. Chap. 6. 2. OBJECTIONS TO ITs WIsDOM AND Goopness. Chap. 7. III. CONCLUSION. XXXll ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. I. THE PLAN OF NATURAL RELIGION. Chaps. 1-5. 1. THat MANKIND ARE APPOINTED TO LIVE IN A Furure Strate. Chap. 1. I. It is a general law of nature, that the same creatures should exist in degrees of life and perception, in one period of their being, greatly different from those of another period. Why then may we not exist hereafter, in a state as different from the present, as this is from our former ? (Pp. 91, 92.) II. The possession of living powers now, is a presumption that they will exist hereafter, unless there is reason to believe that they will be destroyed by death. (Pp. 92-104.) But there is none. For there is no ground to believe death to be (I.) Hither the destruction of living agents. (Pp. 93-101.) (IL.) Or the destruction of their present powers of reflection. (Pp. 101, 102.) (III.) Or even the swspension of the exercise of those powers. (Pp. 102-104.) And (I.) There is no ground to believe death to be the destruction of living agents: either 1. From the reason of the thing ;—for we know not what death is, but only some of its effects, nor what our living powers depend upon. (P. 94.) 2. Or from the analogy of nature ;—for we cannot trace animals after death, and up to that time, the analogy is against the destruction of their living powers. (P. 94.) 3. Or from imaginary presumptions to that effect, arising from early and lasting prejudices. Because 1.) They go on the supposition that living beings are com- pounded, and so discerptible; which is not the case— for consciousness being simple and indivisible, so must be the conscious being. And, therefore, our organized bodies are no part of ourselves, and their dissolution is not our destruction. (Pp. 95-96.) (2.) The same conclusion may be deduced, from observing that men may lose their limbs, their senses, and even ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. XXXL the greatest part of their bodies, that the bodies of all animals are undergoing a constant change, and yet each living agent remains the same being. (Pp. 96, 97%) A. More particular statement of the argument. (Pp. 97 —100.) a. Unless the living being is larger than the solid elemen- tary particles of matter, which there is no ground to think any natural power can dissolve, there is no reason to think death a dissolution of it, though it is not abso- lutely indiscerptible. (P. 97.) b. As the dissolution of matter in which we are nearly interested, (e. g. our flesh and bones,) is not our disso- lution; so we have no ground to think that the dissolu- tion of any other matter will be our dissolution, from the like kind of relation. (Pp. 97, 98.) ce. The same conclusion is reached, if we consider our body as made up of organs and instruments of perception and motion. An eye, for example, bears the same relation to us, in kind, though not in degree, as a microscope, and there is no more reason to suppose that the living agent is destroyed by the loss of the one than of the other. And so of all the other organs of the body. (Pp. 98- 100.) B. Objection answered, (Pp. 100, 101.) If it be objected that these observations would go to prove brutes immortal, and capable of everlasting happiness, it may be answered, a. If it were even implied, in the natural immortality of brutes, that they must become rational and moral agents, this would be no difficulty, since we know not what latent capacities they may be endowed with. (P. 100.) b. But the natural immortality of brutes does not, in the least, imply that they are endowed with any latent capa- cities of a rational or moral nature. All difficulties, in short, as to how they are to be dis- posed of, are founded in our ignorance. (Pp. 100, 101.) (II.) There is no reason to believe death to be the destruction of the present powers of reflection. (Pp. 101, 102.) Because, it does not appear that the gross body is neces- sary to thinking; to our intellectual enjoyments or suffer- XXXIV ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. ings: —If our bodies and our present reflecting powers mutually affect each other, this, as has been already shown, affords no presumption that the dissolution of the one is the destruction of the other; while the fact, that there are instances of their not affecting each other, (as in those mortal diseases, which leave the mind unimpaired to the last,) affords a presumption of the contrary. (III.) There is no ground to believe death to be even the suspen- ston of the exercise of the present powers of reflection; for the same reasons as under preceding. Death may, in some sort, answer to our birth: and like it, instead of being the suspension of our faculties it may put us into a higher and more enlarged state of life. (Pp. 102-104.) (Remark. —The destruction of a vegetable not analo- gous to that of a living agent, because it lacks the power of perception and action, the only thing we are inquiring about the continuance of.) Conciusion. —As death does not appear likely to destroy us, it is probable we shall live on; and the next life may be as natural as this present. This credibility of a future life seems to answer all the purposes of religion, in like manner as a demonstrative proof. Indeed a demonstrative proof of it would not be a proof of religion, though any presumption against a future life is a presumption against religion. (Pp. 104-106.) 2. THAT IN THAT FurURE STATE EVERY ONE SHALL BE REWARDED orn PunitsHED. Chap. 2. I. Of Rewards and Punishments in general. (Pp.'107-111.) Il. Of Punishment in particular. (Pp. 112-116.) I. Of Rewards and Punishments in general. (I.) Importance of the inquiry. —It makes the question of a future life more intensely interesting. (P. 107.) (II.) Argument.—lIn the present state, pleasure and pain are the consequences of our actions; and we are endued by the ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. XXXV author of our nature with capacities of foreseeing these con- sequences. (Pp. 107, 108.) ; (III.) Objections. 1. To the wisdom and goodness of this constitution. ‘¢ Why does not the Author of Nature make his creatures happy without the instrumentality of their own actions, and prevent their bringing any suffering upon themselves?” (P. 108.) Answer:— | (1.) It may be impossible, or (2.) It might produce less happiness, or (3.) Divine goodness may be a disposition to make only the good happy, or (4.) The end of God’s government may be beyond the reach of our faculties. (5.) However we may explain it, the fact itself cannot be questioned, that God does thus govern us. (P. 109.) 2. ‘All this is to be ascribed to the general course of na- ture.” Answer. — Yes; but a course of nature implies an opera- ting agent. God’s acting uniformly is no proof that he does not act at all. (P. 109.) 3. “The argument would seem to prove, that the pleasure naturally accompanying every particular gratification of passion, was intended to put us upon gratifying ourselves in every such particular instance, and as a reward to us for so doing.” Answer. — As it is obvious that eyes were intended for seeing, though there may be some things on which we ought not to look, so the foreseen pleasures and pains be- longing to the passions were intended, in general, to induce mankind to act in such and such manners. (P. 110.) (1V.) Conclusion. From the fact that God has given us to understand, that he has appointed pleasure to be the consequence of one course of action, and pain of another, and from our finding such consequences uniformly to follow, we learn that we are at present actually under his government; i. e. that he rewards and punishes us for our actions. It matters not whether such consequences are brought about by his continued action, or by virtue of the original constitution of things, which he XXXVI ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. has established. Nor does it affect the question, that men may ridicule the thought of lesser pains being considered as in- stances of divine punishment, for this cannot be denied, with- out denying all final causes. If then it be true, that God is now actually exercising that government over us, which implies rewarding and punishing, there is nothing incredible in supposing that he will reward and punish men hereafter. (Pp. shit0,p111-) If. Of punishment in particular. (Pp. 112-116.) (1.) (II.) (IL) Reason for considering this separately. —It is most objected against. (P. 112.) Circumstances in natural punishments analogous to what religion teaches of future punishments. (Pp. 112-115.) 1. They often follow actions which are accompanied with much present pleasure. . They are often much greater than the pleasure. . Their delay is no presumption of final impunity. . After such delay, they often come suddenly. . They come, though men may not have a distinct, full ex- pectation of them: e. g. though thoughtless youth may not consider, or even believe beforehand, the consequences of rashness and folly, yet this does not prevent them from following. 6. Opportunities once neglected may never be recalled. 7. The consequences of folly and extravagance are often irre- trievable. 8. Neglects are often attended with consequences altogether as dreadful as any active misbehaviour. 9. Many natural punishments are final to him who incurs them, e. g. capital punishments under civil government, and mortal diseases brought on by a dissolute life. These circumstances are things of every day’s experience, and are so analogous to what religion teaches us concerning future punishment, that the same words may be applied to both, e. g. the address of Wisdom in the first chapter of Proverbs. (Pp. 114, 115.) Value of this analogy. (Pp. 115, 116.) It is sufficient to show what the laws of the universe may admit, and to answer objections against the credibility of a future state of punishment, drawn from the frailty of our nature and external temptations, from necessity, and CU he CO ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. XXxVil from suppositions that the will of an infinite being cannot. be contradicted, or that he cannot be offended or provoked. 2. It is adapted to impress even the most serious, much more ought it to alarm those who exhibit a fearlessness of the future, which nothing could justify, but a universally ac- knowledged demonstration of atheism. 8. Tat In THE Forurr State, MeN sHALL BE REWARDED OR ie PUNISHED, AS Virtuous or Victous. Chap. 8. : pm I. Preliminaries. (Pp. 117-119.) (L.) (I) & (IIL.) Definitions. — Final causes prove an intelligent Creator. The particular final causes, pleasure and pain, prove him an in- telligent Governor. If the pleasure and pain be distributed according to the virtue or vice of his subjects, this would prove him a moral or righteous Governor. And if this were done, with regard to all intelligent creatures, in exact pro- portion to their personal merits or demerits, then the moral government would be perfect. Mistaken view of the Deity. It is a mistake to suppose the only character of God to be that of simple, absolute benevolence. Though there may possibly be beings in the creation, to whom he manifests himself under that character, yet he has given us proof, in the constitution and conduct of the world, that for us he is a Governor (Chap. 2.), and it may be that we shall find there also, clear and distinct indications that he is a moral Gover- nor. The divine government which we are under in the present state, taken alone, is admitted not to be perfect in degree. Yet it may still be moral in kind. If. Design of this chapter. It is, to inquire how far the principles and beginnings of a moral government over the world may be discerned, notwithstanding and amidst all the confusion and disorder of it. (Pp. 119-184.) 3 XXXVI ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. The common argument, that we have an instance of an existing moral government, in the fact that in general less uneasiness and more satisfaction are the natural consequences of a virtuous than of a vicious course of life, in the present state, is not insisted on here; because it is difficult to weigh pleasures and uneasinesses, so as to estimate the overplus of happiness on the side of virtue. Amidst the infinite disorders of the world, there may be excep- tions to the happiness of virtue, even with regard to those who have been blameless from their youth up; much more in regard to those who have reformed after a long career of vice. But though it is not doubtful whether virtue, upon the whole, is hap- pier than vice; yet if it were, the beginnings of a righteous administration may, beyond all question, be found in nature. (Pp. 119, 120.) For (I.) As it is matter of experience that God does govern us by the method of rewards and punishments, it is more natural for us to suppose that he will finally reward or punish us accord- ing as we are yirtuous or vicious, than by any other rule. (Pp. 120, 121.) (II.) Some sort of moral government is implied in the fact that such is the constitution of things, that prudence and impru- dence, (which are of the nature of virtue and vice,) are respectively rewarded and punished. (P. 121.) (III.) Society being a natural institution, the punishments which are inflicted on the vicious as mischievous to society, as well as those which they suffer from fear of detection, afford an instance of a kind of moral government actually taking place. (Pp. 121, 122.) Objection. —‘‘ Good and beneficial actions are often punished, and mischievous actions rewarded.” Answer : 1. This is not necessary, and consequently not natural. 2. Good actions are never punished, considered as beneficial, nor ill actions rewarded, as mischievous. (P. 122.) (IV.) We have an instance of moral government begun and estab- lished, in the fact that, in the natural course of things, vir- tue as such is rewarded, and vice as such punished, (Pp, 122— 128.) 1. Evidence of the fact. (Pp. 122-125.) (1.) In the good and bad effects of virtue and vice on men’s Pa (V. he ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. XXX1X own minds. Besides the effect of an action, abstracted from all consideration of its morality, there is an effect produced by its virtuousness or viciousness. Vice, as such, produces uneasiness, and virtue, as such, procures peace and satisfaction. To which may be added the fears of future punishment, and the hopes of a better life, which are matter of present uneasiness and satis- faction. (Pp. 128, 124.) (2.) In men’s disposition to befriend virtue, as such, and to discountenance vice, as such, 7m others: instances of which we have in the operations of public opinion, and in domestic and civil government, both of which are natural. (Pp. 124, 125.) 2. Causes of this course of things. (Pp. 126-128.) (1.) The moral nature which God has given us. (2.) His having given us, together with this nature, so great a power over each others’ happiness and misery. In this constitution of things we have a declaration of the Author of Nature, for virtue and against vice. There is, in the nature of things, a tendency in virtue and vice to produce their good and bad effeets in a greater degree than they do in fact produce them; and this is an instance of somewhat moral in the constitution of nature. (Pp. 128- 134.) 1. In individuals, these tendencies are obvious. 2. In society, too, power under the direction of virtue has a necessary tendency to prevail over opposite power, not under the direction of it; just as power under the direc- tion of reason has a tendency to prevail over brute force. If the latter be admitted, so ought the former. And the natural superiority of reason is admitted, notwithstanding it is necessary that certain circumstances should concur in order to secure it, e. g. (1.) There must be some reasonable proportion in num- bers, between the brutes and rational beings. (2.) There must be an opportunity of union among the rational beings. (3.) There must be sufficient time for reason to exert it- self. (Pp. 128, 129.) So also it must be admitted that virtue has a natural xl ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. tendency to triumph over vice, though similar cireum- stances must concur in order to give effect to that tendency. Whenever virtue does not thus triumph, it is owing to hindrances which may be removed in a future state. The happy tendency of virtue, even in the present world, may be illustrated by considering the supremacy which a kingdom would attain, where perfect virtue existed for many ages. (Pp. 180-134.) Ill. Objection. — ‘‘ Notwithstanding these natural effects and tenden- cies of virtue, things may go on hereafter in the same mixed way as at present.” (P. 134.) Answer. — The author’s object is not to prove God’s moral govern- ment over the world, but to observe what there is in the consti- tution and course of nature to confirm the proper proof of it, sup- “posed to be known. And the foregoing observations are a very strong confirmation of the proof of a future state of retribution. For 1. They show that the Author of Nature is in favor of virtue, and against vice. (Pp. 134, 135.) 2. The distributive justice, which religion teaches us to expect at the last, will not be different, in kind, but only in degree, from what we now experience. (P. 135.) 3. Our experience that virtue and vice are actually rewarded and punished at present, in a certain degree, gives just ground to hope and to fear that they may be rewarded and punished in a higher degree hereafter. (P. 135.) . 4. And that they actually will be rewarded and punished in a greater degree hereafter may be expected from their good and bad tendencies respectively. For these tendencies are essential, while the hindrances to their becoming effect are only acci- dental. (Pp. 135, 136.) From these things arises a presumption that the moral govern- ment established in nature will be carried on much farther — indeed, absolutely completed. And from these things, joined with the moral nature which God has given us, considered as given by him, arises a practical proof that it will be completed. (Pp. 186, 137.) te ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. xh 4, Tuat our Present Lire is A PROBATION FoR A Future Stare. Chaps. 4, 5. (1.) A Propation rmpLyine TRIAL, DIFFICULTIES, AND DAN- ager. Chap. 4. The state of trial which religion teaches that we are in, with regard to a future world, is only of a piece with the state of trial which we are in, with regard to the present world: e. g. whenever we are tempted to any course of action which will probably occasion greater temporal uneasiness than satisfac- tion. Because I. The causes of our trial in both capacities are the same, viz: (Pp. 140, 141.) (I.) Something in our external circumstances. (II.) Something in our nature. II. Our trials in both capacities have the same effect upon men’s be- haviour. (Pp. 141, 142.) III. As in our religious capacity, our trials are greatly increased by the ill behaviour of others, by a wrong education, by general bad example, and by the corruptions of religion; so in our temporal capacity, they are increased by a foolish education, by the extra- yagance and carelessness of others, by mistaken notions concern- ing temporal happiness, and by our own negligence and folly. (P. 142.) IV. The equitableness of this state of degradation is vindicated, in both cases, by the same consideration, viz: That there is no more required of men, than they are well able to do. And we can no more complain of this, with regard to the Author of Nature, than of his not haying given us other advantages, belonging to other orders of creatures. (Pp. 142, 143.) Concrusion. — Our experience of a state of trial in our natural capa- city, makes it credible that we are in such a state in our moral capacity, notwithstanding any speculative difficulties which may be connected with it. (Pp. 143, 144.) ox xhii I. Il. Til. LV: ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. (2.) OuR present Lire 1s A STATE OF PROBATION, INTENDED FOR Mora Discrpuine. Chap. 5. All the reasons for our being placed in such a state of trial, we may not be able to understand. But the end is, our improve- ment in virtue and piety, as the requisite qualification for a future state of security and happiness. And this is analogous to the beginning of life as an education for mature age in the present world. A correspondence necessary between our nature and our condi- tion. — As there must be a correspondence between our nature and our external circumstances here, in order to life and happi- ness; so there must be some character and qualifications, without which persons cannot but be incapable of the life of the good hereafter. (P. 146.) Capability of improvement.-— We are so constituted that we are capable of naturally becoming qualified for states of life, for which we were once wholly unqualified. We can acquire habits of perception and habits of action; — habits of body and habits of mind, As habits of body are produced by external acts, so habits of mind are produced by the exertion of inward practical principles. And thus a new character in several respects may be formed. (Pp. 146-150.) Necessity for improvement. — These capacities for improvement are necessary to prepare us for our mature state of life. And as nature has given us the power of improvement, so she has placed us in a condition, in infancy, childhood and youth, fitted for it. As childhood, then, is a state of discipline for mature age, so this life is a state of discipline for the next. If it be objected, that we do not discern in what way it is so, it may be answered, so neither do children understand how food, exercise, &c., are preparing them for mature age, yet such is the fact notwithstand- ing. (Pp. 150-152.) How, and in what respects, the present life may be a preparation for the future state. (Pp. 152-168.) A. As regards the active principle of obedience to God’s com- mands. (Pp. 153-161.) ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. xliii B. As regards passive submission to his will. (Pp. 161-163.) A. As regards the active principle of obedience to God’s com- mands. (I.) The character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualifi- cation for the future state. (P. 153.) (II.) We want and are capable of improvement in that cha- racter, by moral and religious habits. (Pp. 153-1658.) (III.) The present life is fit to be a state of discipline for such improvement. (Pp. 158-160.) And (I.) The character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualifica- tion for the future state. — Because it is according to analogy to suppose, that the future state will be an active one—a community. And it is reasonable to suppose that this com- munity will be under the more immediate government of God; that there will be occasion for the exercise of liberality, justice, and charity, among its members; or at all events, for that character, which is the result of the practice of those virtues. The necessity for such a character may fur- ther be inferred from the fact that the government of the universe is moral. (II.) We want, and we are capable of, improvement in our moral character by discipline. (Pp. 153-158.) 1. That we are capable of it, has been shown in what has been said of our natural power of habits. (P. 153.) 2. We want it: (1.) As finite creatures. (Pp. 1538-157.) (2.) As corrupt creatures. (Pp. 157, 158.) And (1.) As finite creatures. Creatures without blemish, as they come out of the hands of God, may be in danger of going wrong, and so may need the security of virtuous habits, in addition to the moral principle wrought into their natures by him. This danger arises from the fact, that they are endued with certain propensions, or affections, which are, of right, subject to the government of the moral principle as to the occasions, times, degrees and manner of their gratification ; but the principle of virtue can neither excite them, nor prevent their being excited. They are naturally felt when the objects of them are present to the mind, not only be- fore all consideration whether they can be obtained by xliv ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lawful means, but after it is found they cannot. Such propensions, then, must have some tendency, however small, to induce persons to forbidden gratification. This tendency may be increased by circumstances until it be- comes effect. Such an indulgence of a propension is not only criminal in itself, but depraves the inward constitu- tion and character. Thus it is that creatures made upright fall. On the other hand an undeyiating obedience to the moral principle, is not only right in itself, but it improves the inward constitution and character; and it may improve it to such a degree, as almost to remove the danger of defection. (2.) As corrupt creatures. Upright creatures, as we have just seen, may want to be improved: but depraved creatures want to be renewed. If discipline, therefore, be expedient for the former, it is absolutely necessary for the latter. (III.) The present life is fit to be a state of discipline for moral improvement. (Pp. 158-160.) The trials, difficulties and temptations which surround us render the present world peculiarly fit to be a state of dis- cipline to those who will preserve their integrity, because they render being on our guard, resolution and self-denial necessary in order to that end. And this practice of virtue has a peculiar tendency to form habits of virtue. Whether there is any limit to this capacity for improvement, as in the case of our bodily and intellectual powers, we know not. But what has been said is sufficient to prove the truth of the proposition. Objection 1.— ‘‘ The present state is so far from proving, in event, a discipline of virtue to the generality of men, that, on the contrary, they seem to make it a discipline of vice.” (P. 160.) Answer. — The fact is admitted, and also that for this very reason the good have a better opportunity to improve themselves. But this does not prove that the present world was not intended for moral discipline; any more than the fact that many seeds of vegetables and bodies of animals never reach maturity, proves that they were never intended to do so. (Pp. 160, 161.) ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. xlv Objection 2. — ‘So far as a course of behaviour, materially virtuous, proceeds from hope and fear, so far it is only a discipline of self-love.” (P. 161.) Answer. — Doing what God commands, because he commands it, is obedience, though it proceeds from hope or fear. Veracity, justice and charity, regard to God’s authority and to our own chief interest, are not only all three coin- cident, but each of them is in itself a just and natural motive or principle of action. B. As regards passive submission to the will of God. (Pp. 161- 163.) The above remarks on active obedience apply to passive sub- mission. It is a mistake to suppose that nothing but afflictions can give occasion for or require this virtue, —that it cannot be necessary to qualify us for a state of perfect happiness. Prosperity and imagination may give occasion for its exercise : and though there can be no scope for patience when sorrow shall be no more, yet there may be need of a temper of mind which shall have been formed by patience. Habits of resig- nation may be requisite for all creatures;—certainly for human creatures. And affliction is the proper discipline for resignation. Conciusion. — Since the general doctrine that the present world is a state of moral discipline for another, is so entirely analogous to childhood’s being a discipline for mature age, it is in vain to object against the credibility of the doctrine, that all the trouble and dan- ger of such discipline might have been saved us, by our being made at once the creatures and the characters which we were,to be. For we experience, that what we were to be was to be the effect of what we would do. (Pp. 163, 164.) (3.) A PROBATION INTENDED FOR THE MANIFESTATION OF PERSONS’ CHARACTERS TO THE CREATION. (P. 164.) This may be a means of their being disposed of suitably to their characters; and of its being known to the creation, by way of example, that they are thus disposed of. At all events, it con- tributes very much, in various ways, to carrying on a great part of that general course of nature, respecting mankind, which comes under our observation at present. xlvi II. The ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. *. OBJECTIONS TO THE PLAN OF NATURAL RELIGION AN- SWERED. Chaps. 6, 7. s 1, OpsecTioNs To 173 Existence. Chap. 6. fatalist, reasoning from his principle of universal necessity, would allege that there cannot be any such moral plan at all. . Answer.—If that opinion be reconcilable with the constitution of nature, it is also reconcilable with religion. For 1% II. Preliminary argument. — The opinion of necessity does not destroy the proof of an intelligent Author and Governor of N ature, whose existence has been taken for granted throughout this treatise. (Pp. 166, 167.) The opinion of universal necessity does not account for the for- mation of the world, any more than for the structure of a house. We do, indeed, ascribe to God, a necessary existence, uncaused by any agent. But this is a peculiar form of expression, arising from the scantiness of language, and would not be applied to any thing else. When, therefore, a fatalist asserts that every thing is by necessity, he must mean, (1,) dy an agent acting necessarily ; and (2,) that the necessity by which such an agent is supposed to act does not exclude intelligence and design. Main argument. (I.) The opinion of necessity, supposed consistent with possibi- lity, with the constitution of the world, and the natural government which we experience, is also reconcilable with the system of religion. (Pp. 167-171.) 1. Though this opinion were speculatively true, yet, with re- gard to practice, it is as if it were false, so far as our ex- perience reaches; as may be seen in the instances of a child who should be educated in accordance with this opi- nion; or of a man who should act upon it in regard to the preservation of his life. And religion being a practical subject, the notion of necessity is as if it were false with respect to it. (Pp. 168-170.) ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. xlvii 2. If a will and character be reconcilable in us with fate, it is reconcilable with it in the Author of Nature. (Besides, natural government and final causes imply a will and cha- racter in the governor and designer.) And this necessity is as reconcilable with the particular character of benevo- lence, veracity, and justice in him, which attributes are the foundation of religion, as with any other character. And if the fatalist supposed the attribute of ‘‘justice’’ to be inconsistent with necessity, it may be observed that a necessity which destroys the injustice of murder, for in- stance, destroys also the injustice of punishing it. And further, the very fact that the fatalist objects to punish- ment as unjust, shows how the notions of justice and in- justice will cling to the human mind. (P. 171.) (II.) The opinion of necessity does not destroy the proof of reli- gion. (Pp. 171-175.) 1. It does not destroy this general proof, viz., that there is an intelligent Author of Nature —that he governs by rewards and punishments—that he has given us a moral faculty, by which we approve some actions as virtuous and of good desert, and disapprove others as vicious and of ill desert; and has thus told us that he will reward the virtuous and punish the vicious. All which is verified by the natural tendencies of virtue and vice; and by the punishments inflicted on vicious actions as such, and as mischievous to society. (Pp. 172-174.) 2. It does not destroy the external proof of religion, drawn from its universality, its antiquity, and the historical account of its origin. (Pp. 174, 175.) (1.) Its universality, The fact that religion has been pro- fessed in all ages and countries, shows it to be con- formable to the common sense of mankind. (2.) Its antiquity. That religion was believed in the first ages of the world, is a proof of this alternative, either that it came into the world by revelation, or that it is natural, obvious, and forces itself upon the mind. (8.) Lhe historical account of its origin, which represents religion as having been taught mankind by revelation, must be admitted as some degree of real proof that it Was so. xl] vili ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. Remark. —It ought to be recollected, after all proofs of virtue and religion, which are only general, that our moral understanding may be impaired and perverted, and the dictates of it not impartially attended to. And our liableness to prejudice and perversion, is a most serious admonition to us to be upon our guard with respect to what is of such consequence as our deter- minations concerning virtue and religion. (Pp. 175, 176.) Objection. —‘‘The method of government by rewards and punishments, and especially rewarding and punishing good and ill desert, as such, respectively, must go upon suppo- sition that we are free, and not necessary agents. And it is incredible that the Author of Nature should govern us upon a supposition as true, which he knows to be false; and therefore absurd to think he will reward or punish us for our actions hereafter, especially that he will do it under the notion that they are of good or ill desert.” Answer. — The whole analogy of Providence shows that the conclusion is false, wherever the fallacy lies. The doc- trine of freedom shows where, viz., in supposing ourselves necessary, when in truth we are free agents. But upon the supposition of necessity, the fallacy lies in taking for granted, that it is incredible necessary agents should be rewarded and punished, since it is a matter of fact that they are so. (Pp. 176, 177.) III. Conciusion. We see then in what sense the opinion of necessity is destructive of all religion, and in what sense it is not. (P. 178.) 1. It is destructive of it (1.) Practically, by encouraging men in vice and disregard of religion. (2.) Strictly, because it is a contradiction to the whole consti- tution of nature, and so overturns every thing. 2, It is not destructive of religion, if it can be reconciled with the constitution of things; for then it may also be reconciled with religion. is Il. ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. xlix 2. OpyEcTIONS TO THE WispomM AND GooDNESS OF THIS Moran Puan. Chap. 7. ne Though the analogy of nature gives a strong credibility to the general doctrine of religion, and to the several particular things contained in it, as matters of fact, yet still objections may be urged against the wisdom, justice, and goodness of the system. To these analogy can give no direct answer, for it has to do with matters of fact; but it can give an indirect answer by showing, It is credible that God’s moral government must be a scheme quite beyond ovr comprehension. (Pp. 181-184.) There are some particular things in his natural government, the like of which being supposed in his moral government, will evince how little weight is to be attached to objections to its wisdom and goodness. (Pp. 184-186.) And . It is credible that God’s moral government must be a scheme gz quite beyond our comprehension. (Pp. 181-184.) The world, and the whole material government of it appears to be a scheme; and its parts have such an astonishing connection with each other, such reciprocal correspondences and mutual relations, that any one thing whatever may, for aught we know to the contrary, be a necessary condition to any other. This, then, immediately suggests, and strongly shows the credibility that the moral world and government may be an incomprehen- sible scheme too. Indeed the natural and moral world are so connected, as to make up together but one scheme, the former, in all probability, subservient to the latter. But it is enough, for the present purpose, that the moral world is a scheme as much as the natural world; consequently we are not competent judges of it, from the small parts which come within our view in the present life, and therefore no objections against any of these parts can be insisted upon by reasonable men. Objection. —‘“‘ The things complained of, (the origin and contin- uance of evil,) might easily have been prevented by repeated interpositions; or, if this were impracticable, then a scheme of 4 ANALYSIS OF: BUTLER’S ANALOGY. government is itself an imperfection, since more good might have been produced by single unrelated acts of distributive justice and goodness.” Answer. — Were these assertions true, yet the government of the world might be just and good notwithstanding; for, at the most, they would show nothing more than that it might have been better. ~ But, indeed, the assertions themselves are en- tirely arbitrary. (Pp. 183, 184.) . There are some particular things in God’s natural government, the like of which being supposed in his moral government, will show how little weight is to be attached to objections to its wisdom and goodness. (Pp. 184-186.) (I.) In the natural world no ends are accomplished without means; and often desirable ends are brought about by means which would otherwise be very undesirable. Supposing the moral world to be analogous in this respect, the things objected against in it may be means by which an overbalance of good will, in the end, be produced. It is not meant by this to assert, that it would not have been better for the world if evil had never been committed. Many a man would have died, had it not been for the gout or a fever, but this does not prove that sickness is better than health. (Pp. 184-185.) (I.) The natural government of the world is carried on by gene- ral laws. And for this there may be the wisest reasons, and the best ends may be accomplished by it. There is no ground to believe that irregularities could be remedied or precluded by general laws: and interpositions would produce evil and prevent good. (Pp. 185, 186.) Objection. — ‘‘ We must judge of religion by what we do know, and look upon the rest as nothing; or, however, the an- swers here given to the objections against religion, may equally be made use of to invalidate the proof of it, since their stress lies so very much upon our ignorance.” . Answer. 1. Though total ignorance in any matter equally precludes all proof concerning it, and objections against it, yet partial ignorance does not. We may know a person’s i character and consequently the ends he will pursue, and — yet not know the proper way of obtaining those ends. In which case our ignorance would be an answer to all } ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. li objections against his mode of acting, but it would not invalidate the proof that such ends were intended. (Pp. 187, 188.) °. Even if our ignorance did inyalidate the proof of reli- gion, and thus render it doubtful, yet moral obligations would remain certain, though it were not certain what would be the consequences of observing or violating them. Because we cannot violate them without being self-condemned; and also because the credibility that the future consequences of virtue and vice may be what religion teaches us they will be, creates a certain obliga- tion, in point of prudence, to follow the one and avoid the other. (P. 188.) 3. The analogies adduced show that the objections against religion are delusive, because they show that it is not at all incredible that, could we comprehend the whole, we should find the permission of the disorders objected against to be consistent with justice and goodness, and even to be instances of them. Now this is not applica- ble to the proof of religion, as it is to the objections : against it; and therefore cannot invalidate that proof, as it does the objections. (P. 188.) 4, These answers to the objections against religion are, in reality, not taken merely from our ignorance, but from what analogy teaches as to our incompetency to judge in cases where we are ignorant of the possibilities and relations of things. (P. 189.) III. CONCLUSION.* What has been adduced being matter of fact, ought to lead men to consider in earnest their condition, and what they have to do. The credibility of religion, arising from experience and facts, is sufficient, in reason, to engage them to live in the general prac- tice of all virtue and piety. Mere passion is no reason, and but a poor excuse, for a vicious course of life. For men lay themselves li ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. under the same kind of restraints, and as great ones too, from tem- poral regards, as virtue and piety in the ordinary course of things require. Against this poor plea of ungovernable passion, on the side of vice, there are, on the side of religion, the motives drawn from our moral nature, from the presages of conscience, and our natural apprehension of God under the character of a righteous governor and judge, (a nature, and conscience, and apprehension given us by him, ) and from the confirmation of the dictates of reason, by ‘‘life and immortality brought to light by the gospel;” and ‘‘the wrath of God revealed from heaven, against all ungodliness, and unrighteousness of men.” “ABE Ge ee ee eer ee ee OE eee ek fm * The author's conclusion is made up, for the most part, of a brief analysis of the preceding chapters. ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lin PARE REVEALED RELIGION. OUTLINE. I. INTRODUCTION. —IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. — Chap. 1. II. CREDIBILITY OF CHRISTIANITY. Chaps. 2-8. SHOWN BY CONSIDERING (I.) SupposeD PRESUMPTIONS AGAINST REVELATION IN GENERAL. Chap. 2. (II.) Ossections aGAInst THE CHRISTIAN REVELATION IN PaR- TICULAR. Chaps. 3-6. 1. As A Matrer or Fact. Chap. 3. 2. AS INCONSISTENT WITH THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF Gop. Chap. 4. 8. AS BEING A CoMPLICATED ScHemME. End of Chap. 4. 4, AS CARRIED ON BY THE MEDIATION OF A DIVINE PERSON. Chap. 5. 5. As nor UNIVERSALLY REVEALED, OR CLEARLY PROVED. Chap. 6. (III.) Tue Positive EvipEence ror CHRISTIANITY, AND THE OBJEC- TIONS AGAINST THAT EvipENcE. Chap. 7. (IV.) OpsncTions AGAINST THE ARGUMENT FROM ANALOGY. Chap. 8. 4* liy ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. I. INTRODUCTION. —IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. Ch. 1, (I.) Revelation not useless. (Pp. 197, 198.) Shown by 1. The state of religion in the heathen world. 2. Doubtfulness of greatest men on important subjects. 8. Inattention and ignorance of mankind in general. (1.) They could not reason out natural religion. (2.) If they could, they would not. (3.) If they would, they need to be reminded of it, by a stand- ing admonition. (4.) The best need supernatural instruction. (II.) Revelation not of small importance. Shown _ 1. Generally, —because God has given it and enjoined its com- mands. (Pp. 198, 199.) 2. Particularly, — because (1.) It is a republication and external institution of natural religion. (Pp. 199-204.) (2.) It contains an account of a dispensation of things, not discoverable by reason, in consequence of which seve- ral distinct precepts are enjoined us. (Pp. 204-207.) And (1.) Christianity is a republication of natural religion. Pp. 199- 204.) . a. In its genuine simplicity. (P. 200.) b. With authority, being sustained by miracles and prophe- - cies. (Pp. 200, 201.) ¢c. With increased light. (P. 201.) d. With the advantage of a visible church and its positive institutions. (Pp. 201, 202.) Objection. — ‘‘ Christianity has been perverted, and has had but little good influence.” (P..203.) Answer: (a.) The same argument would bear against Theism. (b.) The good effects of Christianity have not been small. — ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. ly (c.) The ill effects attributed to it, are not effects of it at all. (d.) We must judge of Christianity, as well as of natural religion, not by its perversions, but by its genuine tendencies. (2.) Christianity contains an account of a dispensation of things, not discoverable by reason, in consequence of which seve- ral distinct precepts are enjoined us. (Pp. 204-207.) a. The dispensation. (P. 204.) It is one carrying on by the Son and Spirit.for the re- covery and salvation of mankind. b. The precepts enjoined us, in consequence. That we should be baptized in the name of the Son and Holy Ghost, as well as of the Father, together with other duties. (a.) Nature of the obligation, in the case. Duties to the Son and Holy Spirit arise, not from "positive command merely, but from the relations they stand in to us. The external manner of worshipping them is a matter of pure revealed command, (as in- deed it is perhaps in reference to God the Father, ) but the internal worship of the Son and Holy Spirit is no farther matter of pure revealed command, than as the relations they stand in to us are matter of pure revelation. (Pp. 205, 206.) Consequences of violating this obligation. There is no reason to think, but that neglect of be- having suitably to the relations thus revealed will be attended with the same kind of consequences under God’s government, as neglecting to behave suitably to any other relations made known to us by reason. No one can say then, what may follow the disregard of Curist our mediator, and of the Sprrir our sane- tifier. (Pp. 206, 207.) Thence the supreme importance of examining most seriously into the evidence of Christianity, supposing it credible, and of embracing it, supposing it true. (III.) Concluding deductions. (Pp. 208-212.) 1. Distinction between what is positive and what is moral in reli- gion. (P. 208.) (1.) Moral precepts are those the reasons of which we see: (b. Sa ANALYSIS OF BUTOER’S ANALOGY. positive precepts are those the reasons of which we do not see. (2.) Moral duties arise out of the nature of the case itself, prior to external command: positive dudes do not arise out of the nature of the case, but from external command. The manner in which the nature of the case, or the fact of the relation, is made known, does not denominate any duty either positive or moral. 2. Superiority of moral duties over positive. (Pp. 209 - 212.) (1.) Preliminary remark. — Positive institutions in general, as distinguished from this or that particular one, have the nature of moral commands, since the reasons of them appear. We are therefore to compare positive and moral duties no farther than as they are different. (P. 209.) (2.) Grounds of the superior obligation of moral duties over positive. (Pp. 209, 210.) A. In reason. a. b. There is a reason for this preference, and none against it. Positive institutions themselves are means to a moral end; and the end is more excellent than the means. . While the moral law is matter of revelation, as well as positive institutions, the former is also written upon our hearts, and is thus shown to have the superior claim. B. In Scripture. (Pp. 210, 211.) a. db. The notion, prevalent among mankind, in all ages, that religion consists in peculiar positive institu- tions, instead of obedience to moral precepts, is not only utterly subversive of true religion, but also contrary to the whole general tenor of Scrip- ture, as well as to express particular declarations. Scripture always puts the stress of religion upon moral duties, never upon positive. And our Lord showed the same preference, when he was censured for “‘ eating with publicans and sinners,” and when his disciples were censured for ‘ plucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath day,” embodying this great truth in that proverbial manner of expression, «I will have mercy and not sacrifice.” . ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lvii II. CREDIBILITY OF CHRISTIANITY. (I.) THERE 1s No PRESUMPTION AGAINST REVELATION IN GENERAL. Chap. 2. ee I. None against the general scheme of Christianity, whether called miraculous or not. (Pp. 213-215.) If there is, it must be either 1. Because it is not discoverable by reason or experience. (P. ; f 214.) Or, Ce | 2. Because it is unlike the known course of nature. (Pp. 214, 215.) \ And 1. There is no presumption, from analogy, against the truth of it on the first ground, because there must be many things, in the natural and moral system of the universe, beyond the natural reach of our faculties. 2. There is no presumption against it on the second ground; be- cause there is no reason to believe that every thing in that part of the divine government which is naturally unknown to us, must be like something that is known, especially when we see things in the natural and moral world’ greatly unlike each other. It will appear however presently, that the scheme of Christianity is by no means unlike the scheme of nature. (Pp. 214, 215.) : II. No presumption against revelation considered as miraculous. (Pp. 215-219.) 1. None against it at the beginning of the world. (Pp. 215-217.) For as there was no course of nature then, or at all events we are not acquainted with it, the question about a revelation at that time is but a common question of fact. The power which was exerted to make the world, whether called miraculous or not, might just as easily be further exerted, to make a revela- tion. We may receive, therefore, the testimony of history and tradition, on this, as on any common matter of fact of the same antiquity. That testimony is, that religion originally came into the world by revelation; and this has a tendency to remove any prejudices against a subsequent revelation. lviii ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. 2. None against it after the settlement of a course of nature. (Pp. 217-219.) (1.) Generally: nothing short of the history of another world, like our own, would be a parallel case, on which to found an analogical argument; and even if we had this, a single instance is not sufficient for proof. (P. 217.) More particularly : a. There is a very strong presumption against common speculative truths, and ordinary facts before proof. Hence the question of importance is, what is the degree of the peculiar presumption against miracles. For if there be the presumption of millions to one against the most common facts, a small additional presumption, though it be peculiar, amounts to nothing. (Pp. 217, 218.) b, Leaving out moral considerations, the present course of nature is involved in so much darkness, that there seems no improbability in supposing, that five or six thousand years may have given occasion for miraculous interpo- sitions. (P. 218.) c. Taking in moral considerations, we see reasons for miracles, viz.: to give additional instruction, and to attest the truth of it. (Pp. 218, 219.) d. Miracles must not be compared to common natural events, but to extraordinary phenomena, (P,.219.) (II.) THERE ARE NO VALID OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE CHRISTIAN REVELATION IN PaRTicutaR. (Chaps. 8-6.) 1. As A Matrer of Fact. Chap. 8. I. Proposition. — Although it is possible that a supposed revelation may be found false from internal characters, as from clear im- moralities or contradictions; yet in general, objections against Christianity, as distinguished from objections against its evidence, are frivolous. (P. 221.) | (L.) (iI.) (III.) ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lix Proof of the proposition. —Objections against Christianity are founded on the supposition, that we can know before- hand what it ought to be. But this is not the case in refe- rence to the natural dispensation of God, how much less in reference to the revealed. Thus, suppose the subjects of a prince were incompetent to judge beforehand of his ordinary administration, it could not be expected that they would be competent judges of the extraordinary, (P. 222.) Application of this proof to inspiration, (Pp. 223, 224.) We know not beforehand with reference to natural information : 1. What degree of it God would afford men. 2. What means, or disposition to communicate it would be given. 8, What degree of evidence it would have. 4, Whether it would be imparted with equal clearness to all. . Whether knowledge, or the faculty of acquiring it, would be given at once or gradually. So we are ignorant of the same things in regard to reve- lation, and also as to whether it should have been com- mitted to writing, or handed down by tradition. Objection. —‘*A revelation, which was not committed to — writing, would not have answered its purpose.” Answer, —‘‘It would have answered other purposes, or the same purposes in different degrees; and which of these were the purposes of God, we could not have de- termined beforehand.” (P. 224.) Inference from the above argument. — The true question is, whether Christianity is a real revelation, not whether it is such a one, as we might have expected, And hence, 1. No valid objection against Christianity can be founded, (unless the contrary had been promised, ) Or (1.) On obscurity or inaccuracy of aes (2.) On various readings. a oe mand (3.) On disputes about the ath dra. Doel 2, The only objections would be, (none being alleged against its morality,) that it has (1.) No miracles to attest its truth. (2.) Nothing miraculous in its success. (3.) No prophecy. (Pp. 224, 225.) II. General objections considered. (Pp. 225 — 2380.) - lx ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. (I.) Objection. — ‘‘ Internal improbabilities of all kinds weaken external probable proof.” (P. 225.) Answer. 1. 9) ~s True, yet any improbability may be overcome by testi- mony. In the present case, we know not what are improbabi- lities. For the objections against the manner in which instruction is afforded us by revelation, are not greater than we would think, prior to experience, we had against the manner it is afforded in the ordinary course of nature: e. g. it would have been thought improbable prior to experience, (1.) That men should know more about the laws of matter and the heavenly bodies, than about dis- eases. (2.) That invention should be so irregular and capri- cious a way of information. (3.) That language should be so imperfect and liable to abuse, from negligence and design. (4.) That the instinct of brutes should, in some things, be superior to the reason of men. (Pp. 225, 226.) Application of these observations to a particular in- stance, e. g. the Objection. —‘‘ Miraculous gifts (so called) were some- times, in the apostolic age, exercised in a disorderly manner, and hence could not have really been mira- eulous.” (P. 227.) Answer. (1.) It is to be supposed that a person so endued, would have the same power over a supernatural gift, as over any natural endowment, and hence that he would use it as he did any other, accord- ing to his sense of propriety and his prudence. If it be insisted on that God should have re- strained and directed such persons in the exercise of their gifts, it is answered, that we do not find in the natural course of Providence, that supe- rior gifts of memory, eloquence and knowledge are conferred on persons of prudence and de- cency; or that instruction is always given in a way to recommend it. (Pp. 227, 228.) bo _— ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lxi 4, Farther parallel between the light of nature and that of revelation. (P. 228.) (1.) As the common rules of conduct in temporal affairs are each and obeioue, so also is practical Chris-" # ra fz oe =. ‘ag: tianity. fe flys s | eae? Ae Grex ogee O., (2.) As many Aas ie “of te tanal and civil Viowledee re- quire careful consideration, so also do some parts of Scripture, especially the prophetical. (3.) The hindrances of natural and supernatural light and information have been of the same kind. (4.) As natural knowledge is increased by the continu- ance and progress of learning and liberty, so it may be that time will open and ascertain the meaning of several parts of Scripture. Objection. —‘‘ This analogy (between natural and supernatural light) fails, for natural knowledge is of little moment.” Answer. —a. We have been speaking of the general instruction of nature. b. Some parts of natural knowledge are of the greatest importance. @ c. The whole constitution and course of nature shows that God does not distribute his gifts according to our preconceived notions. (Pp. 228, 229.) (1I.) Objection. —‘‘If Christianity is a remedial system, is it) credible that it should have been so long delayed, and then » so partially and imperfectly communicated to mankind ?”’ j Answer. —It is not incredible that this might be so. Many of the remedies for diseases have been unknown for ages, are now known to but few, and probably many are yet unknown. And those which have been discovered are, in their application, neither certain, perfect, nor universal. And the same principles, which would lead us to conclude that they must be so, would lead us likewise to conclude that there should be no diseases at all. (Pp. 229, 230.) ‘II. Concluding deductions: (Pp. 230-232.) 1. Not that reason may not judge of Revelation, as to (1.) The morality of Scripture. (P. 280.) Or 5 lxii ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. [N.B. The Scriptures give no precepts contrary to immutable morality ; though they do contain precepts to do certain acts, which, without such precepts, would be unjust.] (2.) The evidence of revelation, and the objections against that evidence. (P. 281.) 2. But reason may not judge of the scheme itself, if no immo- rality be alleged. 8. Although it makes nothing against Christianity, to prove that it is not what might have been expected from revelation; yet it does make for it, to prove that it is not what might have been expected from enthusiasm and political views, because we are capable of judging of these. (P. 232.) 2. THERE ARE NO VALID OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE WIspoMm, JusTICE, AND GooDNEss OF CHRISTIANITY. Chap. 4. In the first part of this work (Chap. 7) the objections against the wisdom, justice and goodness of the system of nature were answered by showing that, (1.) It is a system or scheme quite beyond our com- prehension; (2.) A scheme in which means are used to accomplish ends, and (3.) One carried on by general laws. If Christianity is a scheme of the like kind, the like objections against it must admit of the like answers. We proceed to show that this is the case. I. Christianity is a scheme quite beyond our comprehension. (Pp. 233 ~— 235.) It is a part of the general plan of Providence, in which God so con- ducts things, that every one shall, at length, and upon the whole, receive according to his deserts. It is a part, consistin g itself of va- rious parts, i. e. of a mysterious economy, carried on by a divine person, the Messiah, for the recovery of the world from ruin; of the manifestation of the Messiah in the fulness of time; of the miraculous mission of the Holy Ghost, and his assistance given to good men; of the invisible government of Christ over the Church : and of his future return to judge the world, and completely re- establish the kingdom of God. Such a scheme cannot but be imperfectly comprehended. If we seriously consider the part of IL. iY: ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. xiii the Christian scheme, which zs revealed, we shall find so much more unrevedled, as will convince us, that we know as little of it, as of the constitution of nature. It is a scheme in which means are used to accomplish ends. (P. 235.) Hence it is credible, that things which appear foolishness to us, may be the very best means of accomplishing the very best ends; and their appearing foolishness is, in such a scheme, no presump- tion against them. A scheme carried on by general laws. (Pp. 235-237.) We say that the course of nature is carried on by general laws; yet it is only from seeing that part of it is, that we conclude so of the whole. For we do not know by what laws storms and tempests destroy mankind; by what laws persons born into the world are of such capacities and tempers; by what laws certain thoughts come into our minds; by what laws some die as soon as they are born, and some live to extreme old age. If analogy is a just ground for concluding that these, the inexplicable events of nature, are by general laws, it is also a sufficient ground to render it credible that miraculous interpositions are by general laws of wisdom. It being thus manifest that Christianity is a scheme like that of nature, it is perfectly credible that there might be the like appearance of deficiencies and irregularities in it; i. e. that it would be liable to the like objections. And those objections are answered by the foregoing observations, just as the like objections against the frame of nature are answered by the like observations concerning it. 3. THERE ARE NO VALID OBJECTIONS AGAINST CHRISTIANITY AS BEING A CompLicaTEeD Scurme. Chap. 4, end. Before proceeding to the objections against particular things in Christianity, let us consider one that is made against the whole scheme together; viz: lxi ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. Objection. — ‘‘ Christianity represents God, like man, reduced to the necessity of a long series of intricate means to accomplish his ends, — the recovery and salvation of the world.” (P. 238.) Answer. —1. Such is the case in the natural course of Providence. The Author of Nature appears deliberate throughout his opera- tions, accomplishing his ends by slow, successive steps; e. g. the change of the seasons, the ripening of the fruits of the earth, &c. 2. We cannot tell how far, either in the economy of nature, or of grace, means are ends, and ends means. 4. THERE ARE NO VALID OBgeEcTIONS AGAINST CHRISTIANITY AS A SCHEME CARRIED ON BY A Divinn MepIaTor. Chap. 5. The appointment of a mediator between God and man, and the re- demption of the world by him, is in accordance with the analogy of nature. For I. We are indebted for life and its blessings to the mediation of others; indeed the whole visible government of God over us is carried on by such means. It is therefore credible that his in- visible government may be carried on in the same manner ; — sufficiently credible at least to remove all objections against the general notion of a mediator, considered as a doctrine of Chris- tianity. (P. 240.) It is supposable that future punishment may follow wickedness, by way of natural consequence, according to some general laws established in the universe. This supposition does not make the punishing of wickedness appear any the less the doing of God; for what comes to pass by the course of nature is done by him, who is the God of Nature; and the Scriptures ascribe to him those punishments which we know to be natural. As future pun- ishment is a matter of reason and justice, it comes to the same thing, whether it be supposed to be inflicted as a natural conse- quence, or in any other way. (Pp. 240-242.) Provision is made in the constitution of nature, that all the bad natural consequences of men’s actions should not always actually follow, but should in certain degrees be prevented. This feature in IV. ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lxv God’s present government over us, is an instance of compassion in the original constitution of the world; and gives us ground to hope, that provision might be made, possibly might have been originally made, for preventing the ruinous consequences of vice. But we have no reason to look for such a provision as a matter of course. For when we consider the consequences of such ac- tions as can scarcely be called vicious; the great criminality and dreadful effects of vice, even in this life; it is by no means intu- itively certain, how far, consistently with the moral constitution of nature, those consequences could be prevented. We could only hope that, in the universal government of God, there might be some way in which it could be done. (Pp. 242, 2438.) Yet There seems no reason to suppose, that any thing we could do would of itself prevent them; for we do not know all the reasons why future punishment should be inflicted, nur the whole conse- quences of vice, nor the manner in which they would follow if unprevented. But the analogy of nature gives us positive evi- dence on this point; for when men by their folly bring on them- selves temporal injury, disease, and ruin, neither sorrow for the past, nor amendment for the future, will prevent these conse- quences, It is therefore supposable, that, if we misbehave in our higher capacity, and render ourselves obnoxious to the pun- ishment of vice, sorrow and amendment will not be alone sufficient to prevent that punishment. It may be added that the supposition of the efficacy of simple amendment to prevent the consequences of sin, is clearly contrary to all our notions of government. And the notion of the efficacy of repentance alone to prevent them, appears, by the prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices over the heathen world, to be contrary to the general sense of mankind. (Pp. 248-245.) Now Revelation confirms these fears of future punishment, and these presumptions of the inefficacy of repentance to procure the par- don of sin; supposes the world to be in a state of ruin, but at the same time icaches us, that God has provided that there should be an interposition in our behalf. More particularly it assures us, that God gave his Son to the world, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish; that the Son loved us with an infinite love, and gave himself for us; and that his interposition was effectual to prevent that execution of justice upon sinners which would otherwise have been appointed them. (Pp. 245-247.) a lxvi ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. Objection. —‘‘This whole manner of treating the subject sup- poses mankind to be in a very strange state.” (P. 247.) ” Answer. — True; but it is not Christianity which has put us into this state. Whoever will consider the present and past states of the world, will find he has little reason to object against the Scripture account that mankind is in a state of degradation. And that the crime of our first parents should have placed us in a more disadvantageous condition is analogous to the daily course of Providence: just as the recovery of the world by the interposition of Christ has been shown to be so in general. VI. The Scriptures explain to us in what way Christ interposes his offices; viz. as Prophet ; — King ; — Priest. (Pp. 247-251.) 1. The passages in which his offices are stated. (Pp. 247-249.) [N. B. The sacrifice of Christ was not an allusion to the Mosaic sacrifices, but is expressly declared, in the epistle to the Hebrews, to be the original, to which they were but allusions. ] 2. Particular description of his offices. (Pp. 250, 251.) (1.) As a Prophet: He published anew the law of nature; he confirmed the expectation of a future judgment; he re- vealed the true manner of worhipping God, the efficacy of repentance, and the rewards and punishments of a future life. Thus he was a prophet in a sense in which no other ever was. Besides this, he set us a perfect ex- ample. . (2.) As a King: He founded a church to be a standing memo- rial of religion, and an invitation to it, in all time. He governs this church by his Spirit; and he has gone to prepare a place, where its members may reign with him for ever. (3.) As a Priest: He offered himself a propitiatory sacrifice, and made atonement for the sins of the world; and this sacrifice was of perfect efficacy for obtaining the pardon of sin. How the sacrifice of Christ is of this efficacy, the Scrip- tures have not revealed. Some have endeavoured to explain it beyond what the Scriptures have authorized; others, probably because they could not explain it, have been for taking it away, and confining Christ’s office to his instruc- tion, example, and government of the church. Whereas the doctrine of the gospel appears to be, not only that he ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lxvii taught the efficacy of repentance, but that he made it of the efficacy which it has; not only that he revealed to sinners, that they were in a capacity of salvation, but that he put them into this capacity, by what he did and suffered for them. VII. We have no means of knowing, antecedently to revelation, whether a Mediator was necessary, and upon supposition of one, how the mediation was to be effected; and it is therefore highly absurd to object against the expediency or usefulness of particular things, done or suffered by Christ, because we do not see how they were conducive to the ends proposed. (Pp. 251, 252.) And yet this mode of objecting is very common; e. g. the Objection. — ‘‘ The death of Christ supposes God to be indifferent whether the innocent or the guilty suffer.” (Pp. 252-256.) Answer: 1 oo This objection concludes equally against natural providence ; for it is constantly appointed, in our daily life, that the inno- cent should suffer for the guilty; and the infinite importance of that appointment of Christianity which is objected against, does not hinder it from being one of the same’ kind. If the objection has any force at all, it is more conclusive against providence, than against Christianity; for men are some- times commanded and necessitated to suffer for each other; whereas the sufferings of Christ were voluntary. (Pp. 252, 253.) . The tendency of this method of our redemption is to vindi- cate the authority of God’s laws, and to deter his creatures from sin; though this is not an account of the whole of the case. (Pp. 253, 254.) . Not only the reason of the thing, but the ahcle analogy of nature should teach us not to expect to have the like infor- mation concerning the divine conduct, as concerning our duty. We know very little of the constitution of nature, but yet are instructed sufficiently for the purposes of life. The case is the same with regard to revelation. The doctrine of a Mediator between God and man relates only to what was done on God’s part in the appointment, and on the Media- tor’s in its execution. Our duty, in consequence of this gracious dispensation, is another subject, in which none can complain for want of information. God has given us here all things pertaining unto godliness. (Pp. 254, 255.) Ixvill ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. 5. THERE ARE NO VALID OBJECTIONS AGAINST CHRISTIANITY, AS NOT UNIVERSALLY REVEALED, OR OLEARLY PRrovep. Chap. 6. I. Preliminary argument. (Pp. 256, 257.) It has been thought by some persons, that if the evidence of revelation appears doubtful, this itself is a positive argument against it; for it cannot be supposed, that if it were true, it would be left upon such evidence. And some object against re- velation, because it is not universal. These opinions are founded upon the following suppositions: (1.) That God would not have bestowed any favour upon us, unless in the degree, which we think would be most to our advantage; and, (2.) That he would not bestow a favour upon any, unless he bestowed the same upon all. Both these presuppositions are contradicted by the general analogy of nature. Hence (I.) It is not inconsistent with the analogy of nature that the evidence of religion should be dowdtful. For it is often ex- ceedingly difficult to determine wherein our temporal inte- rest consists; to estimate the changes and accidents which may disappoint our plans; and to answer objections to a course of action, which, however, for good reasons, we feel warranted to pursue. We may be deceived too by the false- hood of men, and the false appearances of things. There being such doubtfulness as to our temporal interest and the means of attaining it, it becomes credible that there should be the like doubtfulness respecting our religious in- terest, and the way in which it is to be secured. (Pp. 256, 257.) (II.) Not inconsistent therewith that the evidence of religion should not be universal. For God, in numberless instances, bestows that upon some, which he does not upon others, who seem equally to need it. Indeed, he bestows all his gifts, health and strength, capacities of prudence and knowledge, among his creatures, with the most promiscuous variety ; and yet he does exercise a natural government over the world. (P. 257.) ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lxix Il. Facts of the case with regard to religion. (Pp. 257-259.) As neither the Jewish nor Christian revelation has been uni- versal, and as they have been afforded to a greater or less part of the world at different times, so likewise at different times, both revelations have had different degrees of evidence. The Jews who lived before the close of the captivity, had higher evidence of the truth of their religion, than those who lived afterwards. And the first Christians had higher evidence of miracles, wrought in attestation of religion, than we have now; while we, or future ages, may have a proof, which they could not have, from the fulfilment of prophecy. If we suppose that, for the present, it was intended that revelation should be but a small light, illumi- nating some more perfectly, others less, and others not at all; that some men should have it with the system and evidence so corrupted, as to be in doubt about the whole; and lastly, that those who receive Christianity in its purity, should have only sufficient light to teach them their duty and encourage them in discharging it, there would be nothing in all this inconsistent with the daily course of providence towards us in our temporal capacity. But more particularly, 1. This state of the case is not inconsistent with justice. (P. 259.) God will only require of every man, what might have been equitably expected of him, from the circumstances in which he was placed. Every man shall be accepted, according to what he had, not according to what he had not. 2. It is not inconsistent with wisdom and goodness. (Pp. 260- 266.) For, (1.) The evidence of religion not appearing obvious,* may be part of some men’s trial. — For this condition of the evi- dence gives scope for a virtuous exercise or vicious neglect of the understanding, in examining or not examining into it. We may be in a state of probation with regard to the exercise of our understanding upon the subject of religion, as we are with regard to our behaviour in common affairs. The same disposition which makes a man obedient to the precepts of religion, would lead him, were he unconvinced of its truth, seriously to consider its system and evidence ; * i, e. That religion is not intuitively true, but a matter requiring careful deduce tion and inference. lxxii ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. 3. It must be remembered, that the object is not to procure the performance of the outward act, but to cultivate the disposi- tion of the agent. (P. 269-270.) This observation is an answer to the objection, that if a prince were to send directions to a servant, he would take care that those directions should bear certain marks of having come from him, and that their sense should be so plain, that there could be no doubt about their meaning or authority. In this case, and in that of giving, by revelation, a rule of life to man- kind, the objects are different; the cases are not parallel. To objections of this kind, it may also be answered, that we cannot argue thus with respect to him who is the governor of the world; for he does not afford us such information in our tem- poral affairs; as experience abundantly shows. FINALLY, a state of religion implies a state of probation; and we have no ground, from the reason of the thing, for saying that our only probation can be, whether we will act suitably to such information as admits of no doubt, so that our sole danger shall arise from our not attending to what we know, or from going contrary toit. Our probation may also be, whether we will take due care to inform our- selves, and whether we will afterwards act upon the evidence we have, however doubtful. (III.) Tue Particutar EvipENcE ror CHRISTIANITY, AND THE OBJEC- TIONS AGAINST THAT EvipENcE. Chap. 7. The object of this chapter is to inquire what the analogy of nature suggests as to the positive evidence for Christianity, and the objections against that evidence. It contains I. Observations relating to miracles, and the appearing compietions of prophecy, and as to what the analogy of nature suggests re- specting the objections to this evidence. (Pp. 278-287.) II. Some account of the general argument, consisting of the direct and collateral evidence considered together. (Pp. 287-802.) And L Observations, &c. ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lxxiif ) Miracles. (Pp. 273-283.) 1. Arguments in favour of this evidence. (Pp. 273-275.) Ge (1.) ~o i) ° ar (3.) The miracles are recorded in books, which must be admitted as authentic, genuine history, till somewhat positive be alleged to invalidate it, such as historical evidence on the other side, general incredibility in the things related, or inconsistence in the general turn of the history. And in particular, a. We have the same evidence of the miracles related in these books, as of the common matters of history recorded in them. b. Parts of Scripture, containing accounts of miracles, are quoted from the age in which they were written to the present; and no parts are omitted to be quoted in such a way as to cast a suspicion on their genuineness. ce. The miraculous history in general is confirmed by contemporary events; viz. by the establishment of the Jewish and Christian religions. These events are just what we should have expected, upon sup- position that the miracles were wrought. And the miracles are the only satisfactory account of the events which can be given. In the epistles of Paul, (of the authenticity of which there is strong proof,) the Apostle speaks of having received the gospel itself by miracle, and states that he and others were endowed with miraculous powers. These powers he speaks of as publicly and familiarly known. (Pp. 275, 276.) Christianity was first preached and received upon the allegation of miracles, and in this differs from all other religions. The success, then, with which it met, is real evidence of the truth of those miracles, distinct from the direct historical evidence. For it is not to be supposed that such numbers of men, under such circumstances of difficulty in forsaking the old reli- gion, and of trial and danger in accepting the new, would embrace Christianity unless they were fully convinced of the truth of the miracles, wrought in its attestation. (Pp, 276-278.) Ixxiv ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. 2. Objections to the evidence of miracles. (Pp. 278-281.) (1.) “Many enthusiastic people have exposed themselves to similar difficulties for the most idle follies.” Answer. — We must in every case distinguish between opinions and facts. Testimony only proves a man’s belief in reference to them. And if the Apostles and their contemporaries endured sufferings and death for their belief of the facts of religion, their belief is a proof of those facts, for they were such as came under the observation of their senses. (Pp. 278, 279.) (2.) ‘* Enthusiasm weakens (if it does not destroy) the evi- dence of testimony, even for facts, in matters relating to religion.” Answer. — Not unless there is incredibility in the things attested, or eontrary testimony, neither of which is the case here. And until either the one or the other of these is established, it cannot be expected, that such a far-fetched account of the evidence, as enthu- siasm is, will be admitted, when we have the easy, obvious one, —that the witnesses speak the truth. But if this objection be insisted on, it is to be observed that prejudices of a like kind to enthusiasm, — ro- mance, affectation, humour, party spirit, custom, &c., — affect men in common matters, and yet human testimony is naturally and justly believed notwith- standing. (Pp. 279, 280.) (3.) ‘It is possible, that the early Christians might in part be deceived themselves, and might in part design to deceive others.” Answer. — There are such combinations in human cha racter, and yet, notwithstanding this, human testi- mony remains a natural ground of assent. (Pp. 280, 281.) (4.) ‘‘Mankind have, in different ages, been strangely deluded by pretences to miracles.” Answer. — Not more by these pretences than by others. (P. 281.) (5.) ‘* There is considerable historical evidence for mira- cles which are acknowledged to be fabulous.” Answer. —This does not overthrow the evidence of : ® ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. Ixxv Christian miracles, against which nothing of the kind can be proved. If evidence be confuted by contrary evidence, or in any way overbalanced, this does not destroy the credibility of other evidence, neither con- futed nor overbalanced. (P. 281.) 38. General remark. (Pp. 281-283.) The fact, that men are liable to be deceived by enthusiasm in religion, and by principles equivalent to enthusiasm in common matters, does indeed weaken the evidence of tes- timony in all cases, but does not destroy it in any. No- thing can destroy the evidence of testimony in any case, but a proof or probability that persons are not competent judges of the facts to which they testify, or that they are under some indirect influence in giving it, in such particu- lar instance. Neither of these is likely in Christianity. Its importance would make men unwilling to be deceived them- selves. The obligations to veracity which it imposes, would make them unwilling to deceive others. (1I.) Prophecy. — Observations suggested by the analogy of na- ture concerning evidence of a like kind to that from Pro- phecy. (Pp. 283-287.) i. The obscurity or unintelligibleness of one part of a pro- phecy does not, in any degree, invalidate the proof of foresight, arising from the appearing completions of those parts which are understood. For it is the same as if the parts not understood were lost, or not written at all, or written in an unknown tongue. Suppose a writing, partly in cypher, and partly in plain words, and that in the plain, intelligible part, there appeared mention of several known facts. No one would imagine that if he understood the whole, perhaps he would find that those facts were not really known by the writer. (Pp. 283, 284.) 2. A long series of prophecy being applicable to certain events, is itself a proof that it was intended of them. — There are two kinds of writing which have a great resem- blance to prophecy, with respect to the matter before us, the mythological and the satirical. In both these kinds, we judge that certain persons or events are intended, from the fact that the writing is applicable to them; and our confidence that we understand the intended meaning is Ixxyvl 3. ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. greater or less, in proportion as we see the general turn of the composition to be capable of such application, and in proportion to the number of particular things capable of it. And thus if along series of prophecy is applicable to the present state of the church and the world, and if a long series, delivered before the coming of Christ, is appli- cable to him, these things are a proof that such prophetic history was intended of him, and of those events. (Pp. 284, 285.) The showing that the prophets thought, in their predic- tions, of other events, or that the predictions are capable of being applied to other events, than those to which they are referred by Christians, would not destroy the force of the argument from prophecy; for it is not alleged that the prophets were the original authors of the predictions, but the contrary. Thus, if we knew one to have com- piled a book of memoirs, which he received from a person of vastly superior knowledge on that particular subject, we would not suppose we had the whole meaning of the book, from knowing the whole meaning of the compiler; for the original author may have had some meaning, which the compiler never saw. To say that the prophecies of Scripture have no farther meaning than the writers sup- posed, is to suppose that the writers were the original, sole authors of the books; i. e. that they were not inspired. If events correspond to prophecies, interpreted in a different sense from that in which the prophets are supposed to have understood them, this is a proof that this different sense was originally intended. So that the question is, has a prophecy been fulfilled in a natural and proper, that is, in any real sense of its words. (Pp. 285 — 287.) II. Some account of the general argument, consisting of the direct and collateral evidence considered together. (Pp. 287-302.) 1. Reasons for adducing this. (P. 288.) (1.) Because the proof of revelation is not only express and direct, but consists also of a great variety of circum- stances; and though each of these circumstances is first to be considered separately, yet their proper force is obtained, by uniting them together in one view. (2.) If these matters of fact are laid together, they must be acknowledged to be of weight. ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lxxvii 2. Statement of the proposition. (Pp. 288, 289.) es That God has given us, by external revelation, not only the system of natural religion, but also a particular dispensation of providence, which reason could in no way have discovered, and a particular institution of religion founded upon it, for the recovery of mankind, and raising them to perfection and final happiness. - Character of this revelation. (Pp. 289-291.) (1.) Considering it as wholly historical, (for prophecy is but the history of events before they come to pass, and doc- trines and precepts are matters of fact,) it is a history of the world, as God’s world, from the creation, until the consummation of all things. (2.) It embraces a great length of time and a great variety of things, thereby affording abundant opportunity for confu- tation, if false. And the supposed doubtfulness of its evidence, so far from implying a positive argument, that it is not true, appears on the contrary to imply a positive argument, that it 7s true. For if a relation of such ex- tent and. antiquity cannot, in an age of knowledge, be refuted to the satisfaction of reasonable men, this should be considered a strong presumptive proof of its truth; in- deed it is a proof, in proportion to the probability, that if it were false, it might be shown to be so. 4. Its contents. (Pp. 291-293.) Besides the moral system of the world, it contains a chrono- logical account of its beginning, and from thence the genealogy of mankind for many ages before common history begins; — the promise of a Messiah —his advent—his ministry and the suc- cess of his religion—together with a prophetic account of the state of this religion to the end of the world. Facts admitted in relation to it. (Pp. 293-299.) (1.) That the establishment of natural religion in the world is greatly owing to this revelation. (2.) That it is of the earliest antiquity. (3.) That its chronology and common history are entirely cre- dible, being confirmed by the natural and civil history of the world. The events described arise naturally out of foregoing ones; each age is represented conformably to what we know of its manners; the characters have all the § * lxxviil (4.) (5.) (6.) (7.) (8.) ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. internal marks of being real; the genealogies carry the appearance of veracity, and the narrative is unadorned. There are no more mistakes of transcribers, than were to have been expected in books of such antiquity. As all this is applicable to the ordinary history of the New Tes- tament, so also are its statements confirmed by profane authors. And this credibility of the common Scripture history gives credibility to its miraculous history ; for they are both interwoven together, and make up one relation. (Pp. 294, 295.) That the Jews appear to have been the people of God. (Pp. 295, 296.) That the Messiah did come, was rejected by the Jews, and received by the Gentiles on the evidence of miracles. (P. 296.) That his religion prevailed in spite of great opposition, and then became the religion of the world. (P. 296.) That the Jewish polity was destroyed, and the nation dis- persed, and that they have notwithstanding remained a distinct people; at once a fulfilment of some prophecies, and a token of the fulfilment of others. (Pp. 297, 298.) That there are circumstances in the state of the world, besides what relates to Jews and Christians, corresponding with prophecy. (P. 299.) 6. Concluding observations. (Pp. 299-302.) (1.) (2.) This general view of the confessed historical evidence for miracles, and the many obvious appearing completions of prophecy, together with the collateral things here men- tioned, taken together amounts to real evidence of the truth and divinity of religion. Men may deny the force of the evidence, but they must admit the facts. And’ no one can think the collateral things here given to be no- thing, who considers their importance in the evidence of probability as distinguished from demonstration. It re- quires, indeed, the truest judgment to determine the weight of circumstantial evidence, but it is often as con- vincing, as that which is most express and direct. (Pp. 299, 300.) It is safer to admit the evidence than to reject it. True, to believe and disbelieve upon the consideration of safety ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. lxxix or of danger is a prejudice; and it is manifestly unrea- sonable to apply to men’s passions, — their hopes or their fears, —in order to gain their assent. But in deliberations concerning conduct, nothing is more reasonable than to take its importance into the account. (P. 301.) Those who attack Christianity have the advantage over those who defend it; because it is easier to assail single points, than to adduce the whole mass of evidence. (P. 302.) (IV.) OBsECTIONS AGAINST THE ARGUMENT FROM AnaLoay. Chap. 8. I. II. The objections. (Pp. 308, 304.) 1. “It is a poor thing to solve difficulties in revelation, by saying 2. 5. that there are the same in natural religion.” Tt is a strange way of convincing men of the obligations of religion, by showing them that they have as little reason for their worldly pursuits.” . A strange way of vindicating the justice and goodness of the system of religion, by showing that like objections exist against natural providence.” . “This way of reasoning must leave the mind unsatisfied.” ‘Men cannot be expected, upon such evidence, to forego their pleasures.” The answers. (Pp. 804-312.) 1. As to the first objection. (Pp. 304, 3805.) (1.) To ask to have all difficulties cleared, is to ask to compre- hend the divine nature, and the whole plan of Providence from everlasting to everlasting. But it has always been allowed to argue from what is acknowledged to what is disputed; and it is no otherwise ® poor thing to argue from natural religion to revealed, than it is to argue in number- less other ways of probable deduction and inference, in matters of conduct, as we are constantly compelled to do. Besides, (2.) It is a thing of consequence, to show that objections against yeyelation are as much levelled against natural religion ; lxxx ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. and when such objections are shown to be equally appli- cable to both, they are, properly speaking, answered. But even in the latter part of this treatise, the admission of natural religion has not been insisted on; and Chris- tianity has been vindicated not from its analogy to natu- ral religion, but chiefly from its analogy to the experienced constitution of nature. 2. As to the second objection. (Pp. 305, 806.) (1.) Religion is a practical thing, consisting in such a course of life, as we have reason to think to be commanded by the Author of Nature, and conducive to our happiness. If men are convinced that they have like reason to believe this, as to believe that taking care of their temporal affairs will be to their advantage, such conviction cannot but be an argument to them for the practice of religion. And if the. interest, which religion proposes to us, be infinitely greater than our temporal interest, then there must be proportiona- bly greater reason for endeavouring to secure the one than the other. (2.) But the force of this objection consists in the supposition, « That if religion were true it would not be left doubtful, and open to objections; hence, that it is so left, is a presumption, perhaps a proof, that it is false.” Now the constitution and course of nature shows, that God appoints us to act, in our temporal affairs, upon evidence of a like kind and degree to the evidence of reli- gion, and this is an answer to such objection. 3. As to the third objection. (Pp. 306-308.) The design of this treatise is not to vindicate the character of God, but to show the obligations of men; and observations may tend to make out the latter, which do not appear, by any immediate connexion, to the purpose of the former; which is less our concern, than many think. For, (1.) We need not justify the dispensations of Providence, any farther than to show, that the things objected against may be consistent with wisdom and goodness, and even instances of them. The objections against the divine justice and goodness are not removed, by showing that there are like objections against natural providence; but the objections being shown to be inconclusive, the things objected against are farther shown to conform to the constitution of nature. ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. Ixxxi (3.) This conformity would be of weight, though the objections (against the divine justice and goodness) were not an- swered; for religion implying matters of fact, it shows that these facts are not incredible. ; Religion being reducible to matter of fact, we may answer objections against its credibility and truth, without con- sidering the reasonableness of the system. Nor is it neces- — (4. sary, (though it may be useful and proper,) to show the reasonableness of every precept and particular dispensa- tion, The obligations of religion are fully made out, by showing the reasonableness of its practice. (5.) Though analogy is not an immediate answer to objections against the justice and goodness of religion, it is an answer to what is intended by such objections, viz,, That religion is incredible. 4. As to the fourth objection. (Pp. 308, 809.) (1.) We are obliged to take up with very unsatisfactory evi- dence in the daily course of life. (2.) Religion is intended to try the honesty and integrity of men, and to exercise and improve those virtues; and therefore the real question is, whether the evidence of religion is sufficient to discipline that virtue, which it presupposes. (3.) Even if the argu- ment is not satisfactory, it is sufficient to show us what course of conduct is prudent. . As to the fifth objection. (Pp. 809, 319,) If the evidence is sufficient to induce men to embrace religion, it is nothing to the purpose to say that they will not. For the object of this treatise is to inquire not what men are, but what the light and knowledge afforded them, require that they should be. And religion, considered as a probation, has had its end upon all persons, to whom it has been proposed; for by this means, they have been put into a state of trial, let them behave in it as they will. In this whole treatise, no use has been made of the abstract principles of liberty and moral fitness, but the endeavour has been to prove the truth of religion, as matter of fact. This proof may be cavilled at, may indeed be easily shown not to be demonstrative, for it ig not offered as such, but it cannot be evaded or answered; and thus the obligations of religion are fully made out. Hence, there- fore, may be observed distinctly, what is the force of this treatise. Or Ixxxil ANALYSIS OF BUTLER’S ANALOGY. (1.) As to those who believe, it will clear the scheme of Christianity of objections, and strengthen its evidence. (2.) As to those who do not believe, it will show the credibility of Christianity, and the ab- surdity of all attempts to prove it false. CONCLUSION * We are under moral obligations to inquire seriously into the evi- dence of Christianity, and, upon supposition of its truth, to embrace it; for we are bound to listen to the voice of God, through whatever channel it may reach us. And yet many reject both natural and revealed religion; and some go so far, as to treat Christianity with scorn and contempt. We have shown, however, that the evidence for the latter cannot be considered as amounting to nothing: and the objections against it, in general— against its particular doctrines— against the mode in which it has been left us — against the positive testimonies for its truth-—have been proved to be without weight. Having reason, therefore, to believe that the whole of religion, — both natural and revealed,—is entirely credible, we may conclude, (1.) That immorality is aggravated in those who have been made acquainted with Christianity, whether they believe it or not; for the moral system of nature, or natural religion, which it lays before us, commends itself almost intuitively to a reasonable mind. (2.) That between satisfaction of the truth of Christianity, and satisfaction of the contrary, there is a middle state of serious apprehension that it may be true, joined with a doubt whether it be so; and this is as far towards infidelity as any one, who has had its evidences fairly pre- sented, can go. (3.) That if men, notwithstanding this light, can continue vilifying and disregarding Christianity, there is no reason to think they would act otherwise, even though there were a demon- stration of its truth. LE * The Conclusion is mainly composed of a recapitulation of the contents of the preceding chapters. THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION, NATURAL AND REVEALED, CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. (1xxxili ) TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES, LORD TALBOT, BARON OF HENSOL, LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN, THE FOLLOWING TREATISE IS, WITH ALL RESPECT, INSCRIBER, IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF THE. HIGHEST OBLIGATIONS TO THE LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM, AND TO HIMSELF, BY HIS LORDSHIP’S MOST DUTIFUL, MOST DEVOTED, AND MOST HUMBLE SERVANT, JOSEPH BUTLER. dixxxv ) . oe | -& ' ‘ ~~ E> & . P . ya F 4 J Le, : J : "hg ’ t. ih aot yd i 7 ‘ “ ’ 7 ‘ - , ae ra ba : % ‘ ¢. oe . . ~~ PSA 4 - PA ’ ie é J aa Zan eae 2 HX . : rc x4) - cA i : ; ‘ Oe re ei 2 a - 7 - . =f Se ‘ "> ~ . * ; Pees : at : ; ey f ae i 2 , ' ’ . tna ‘ No ke . J yy ne . : . r) =i P ‘ Zz ‘ \ - “ ‘ ” ~_—* ~ 7 as > Su? . « ~ 4 \ 4 : b si by 7 x . bs 7 oh , -- a - x bs ~ . « Mg , ’ . ‘ 7 ‘ . - , s&s - et Lg ? P * t y , gf Phe | a -) fp ia. * ~ , oe. €x. 9 ; ‘4% y a - rs Py aS ~ a 7 be yy ay oe of : we ‘ rate 4 oid ’ ’ = . os A 2 4 7 > aA 3 L34 1%; 5 yin > ar oe 2th we * i : ‘T" se, 3 ~ 7 BA + re OM ht 7 pr ts s _ S ~ f ‘ he Ss » by ' * Beers % wie ." ‘ a +: os FART, A. TERE ving . : A a “= oe ’ ¥ rck £%< of o—* id ’ , 1/7 eal Que AA: ‘ . a ‘ x , e : ir * Re. = i TPES, POR: UP. - * ¥ Z i ’ at » » Nee amar iret ae ay) py! ‘ vais - [ = a wut 1 Teak ea - “= , Riera die diks donor _ aa Bt Gia tc. =e + sé io-= 5 4 . as a rt ‘ eee : , _ . ‘ ' . é -, \ j , nN ‘hie * - F ' . < S 2 4 ‘ ' = * - % j ’ ca ‘. « 4 : rt 7 Wire » FN & ; % =~ J ‘ i ; ai ~ > - A ‘ 4 = ’ and a ; 3 P i : 4 Jo ; to ‘ os ‘ = ahaa *e ’ , - = 9 A ‘ ad ‘ : athe a Cee 4 ty it ette ‘ ~ ‘ pe ie 3 bs apf he Mere ~ i? z + Ly A] 4 > x = x "7% if ¢ m ; a) he re ad ‘ j ty 4? = * A ‘'; 7 s P ve 4 d ~ < H sa 7 ad > 5 - . 6 e te te ie? 4 ey oy ' : : ’ . ® os fs = st ‘ é 4 i wi Aa oa ' 7? i ADVERTISEMENT PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION. Ir the readershould meet here with any thing which he had not before attended to, it will not be in the observations upon the constitution and course of nature, these being all obvious; but in the application of them: in which, though there is no- thing but what appears to me of some real weight, and there- fore of great importance; yet he will observe severai things, which will appear to him of very little, if we can think things to be of little importance, which are of any real weight at all, upon such a subject as religion. However, the proper force of the following Treatise lies in the whole general Analogy considered together. It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted, by many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry; but that it is now, at length, discovered to be fictitious. And, accordingly, they treat it as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point among all people of discernment; and nothing remained, but to set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way of reprisals, for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the world. On the con- ( lxxxvii ) Ixxxvili ADVERTISEMENT. trary, thus much, at least, will be here found, not taken for granted, but proved, that any reasonable man, who will tho- roughly consider the matter, may be as much assured, as he is of his own being, that it is not, however, so clear a case, that there is nothing in it. There is, I think, strong evidence of its truth ; but it is certain no one can, upon principles of reason, be satisfied of the contrary. And the practical consequence to be drawn from this is not attended to by every one who is con- cerned in it. May, 1736, es hea ee eee CON-EFENTS. OG AO SLi ge Lib ei orp eee Ae Bee nem OR BY. Gt ts AMebanearnpr ts, a ieee theca Page 83 PART T. OF NATURAL RELIGION. OTHAGEATCUNO FIGIC occ sacs couces sect os Oni eeten Dorecetssuorcstcvecstcsssesteccsecshescsesas 91 GHAP. iI. Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishments; and par- ticularly of the latter ........scccccecssssscnseecsesuccosseescasaececacs souesesns 107 CHAP.. IIT. Oftnen Moral Government’ Of God ..c...cs ciccckssessasosesiovcescns Didestineeses aid CHAP. LV. Of a State of Probation, as implying Trial, Difficulties, and Danger ... 138 ‘CHAP. VY. Of a State of Probation, as intended for Moral Discipline and Im- PTOVEMENL vrccceeesceeccecnneccanseecassceeee nnsseaseasesesanenaenes saeeesene sa eees 145 CHAP. VI. Of the Opinion of Necessity, considered as influencing Practice ......... 165 CHAP. Vil. Of the Government of God, considered as a Scheme or Constitution, imperfectly comprehended ........csseereseenseeserseeeseeeceseecesae ee eeeeas . 180 COROLUSION scaiescce vebsnscscngsedessts coancgqesserecsaverdsascdevenbeccetens Pe es 190 aot (1xxxix ) XC CONTENTS. PART las OF REVEALED RELIGION. CHAP. I. OF the Importance “of WUNTIStianity. 7.1.00 svisccups cdiccss¥eavesaschevenustemeee 197 CHAP. II. Of the supposed Presumption against a Revelation, considered as PLA BOO1OUS a5. sngce csc seatansss vs dqce Ultkae sods dun yeueee cout tenagtnis Sanne h aneE 213 CHAP. III. Of our Incapacity of judging what were to be expected in a Revela- tion; and the Credibility, from Analogy, that it must contain Things appearing liable to Objections .......sscessessacsseceasessacceeevens 220 UAE. LV. Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme or Constitution, imperfectly COIDDIERENUGO yc acctacs poe , “a »% : o . , a s i > pr Pe.) 4 a ee fin - >" , ‘ . fi ek ee ee ne ee eo a sep Ms: a Ti de teh inet i capt teting $5 an) ¥ a ¢ ray y cP ‘oi bd ~ 2 - — ‘4 Gavd. Fee Tuy suena ei Pelee. Fiat, ae | : , Rs al va ’ ’ > ‘ me . Lal ca . Dice Sages tee ee rc ; a met 344 are a yh ou ig fi ¥ s a . . “ee 3 ’ F my “i$ erates 1D oe: 5 as = ay + < ~ &e ] 1-4 t bbe ay ow ys Ab Ny a ae Pear cota oa? BS . . / “RE 993 Pat mage fbr sJ:, att tenis pikes ra wy of bee ae ‘Pat a ag ae ag) ei oy bias . an ) i * rs pte Qi fsitk yey tnd oh ? ‘ dele i, * Sap * 4 Ji PSN toe RE Lge Me a Wacatin? : ; pare u ; ra ot ae ‘ : ue S ie! ay Hay re SR TORR, ted. Od Then Can ph bee my F ve ae % ex Sef Seotl ¢OUE TBE 4S Se 7 ao. 4 Pr z ‘ s ‘=! “a wae : i : we “ ee Pe PFE vey x Aae: rf hes * han lant ja: $08 asi a wad ‘ih » © * } ee Sy se nye os 7 * Tie ein STs * 3G cl age HORE MP LL Hey webad, a A ck a : i 4 » *ESe . a0 dha a, ae re vilig | athe im ; > wat rhet. Sigs Pe ik yi :¢ 1+ te ah Be iA srt ‘ (hist bay rgnt efae ‘ge : é ee eS. Led ed Sy Wiles: #68 a AO (eihig of aaa ate as iti vt t ome nm - f as by mn ima Jel a 1 9 F ‘ ¥ ‘ a a ~ 4 . \'- ae pe * iu : . A - ae a * ‘ ¢ . >. . - y™ 4 ~ ’ z a * < ‘ - Pa y. - . ~ . P ‘ INTRODUCTION. —! PrRoBABLE evidence is essentially distinguished from demon- strative by this, that it admits of degrees; and of all variety of them, from the highest moral certainty, to the very lowest presumption. We cannot indeed say a thing is probably true upon one very slight presumption for it; because, as there may be probabilities on both sides of a question, there may be some against it: and though there be not, yet a slight presumption does not beget that degree of conviction, which is implied in saying a thing is probably true. But that the slightest possible presumption is of the nature of a probability, appears from henee, that such low presumption often repeated, will amount even to moral certainty. Thus a man’s having observed the ebb and flow of the tide to-day, affords some sort of presump- tion, though the lowest imaginable, that it may happen again to-morrow. But the observation of this event for so many days, and months, and ages together, as it has been observed by mankind, gives us a full assurance that it will. That which chiefly constitutes probability is expressed in the word likely, that is, like some truth* or true event; like it, in itself, in its evidence, in some more or fewer of its circum- stances.t For when we determine a thing to be probably true, suppose that an event has or will come to pass, it is from the mind’s remarking in it a likeness to some other event, which we have observed has come to pass. And this observation forms, in numberless daily instances, a presumption, opinion, or full conviction, that such event has or will come to pass; according as the observation is, that the like event has sometimes, most * Verisimile. + [‘¢ Like it in itself” seems to indicate the case in which we have ascertained the whole nature of the truth or known fact, e. g. ascer- tained the whole of the conditions upon which a given consequence takes place. This is the case of a strict induction. ‘* Like in its evidence,” when the same testimony or proof which we have found credible for some cases, leads us to believe something else. ‘‘ Like it in some more or fewer of its circumstances,” refers to analogies, in the popular sense of the term, as before explained. F.] (83) R4 INTRODUCTION. commonly, or always, so far as our observation reaches, come to pass at like distances of time, or place, or upon like occasions. Hence arises the belief, that a child, if it lives twenty years, will grow up to the stature and strength of a man; that food will contribute to the preservation of its life, and the want of it for such a number of days be its certain destruction. So, like- wise, the rule and measure of our hopes and fears concerning the success of our pursuits; our expectations that others will act so and so in such circumstances; and our judgment that such actions proceed from such principles ;—all these rely upon our having observed the like to what we hope, fear, expect, judge; I say, upon our having observed the like, either with respect to others or ourselves. And thus, whereas the prince,* who had always lived in a warm climate, naturally concluded in the way of analogy, that there was no such thing as water becoming hard, because he had always observed it to be fluid and yielding : we, on the contrary, from analogy, conclude, that there is no presumption at all against this; that it is suppo- sable there may be frost in England any given day in January next; probable, that there will on some day of the month ; and that there is a moral certainty, that is, ground for an éxpecta- tion, without any doubt of it, in some part or other ‘of the winter. Probable evidence, in its very nature, affords but an imper- fect kind of information, and is to be considered as relative only to beings of limited capacities. For nothing which is the possible object of knowledge, whether past, present, or future, can be probable to an infinite Intelligence ; since it cannot but be discerned absolutely, as it is in itself, certainly true, or cer- tainly false. But, to us, probability is the very guide of life. From these things it follows, that in questions of difficulty, or such as are thought so, where more satisfactory evidence cannot be had, or is not seen, if the result of examination be, that there appears, upon the whole, any the lowest presumption on one side, and none on the other, or a greater presumption on one side, though in the lowest degree greater, this determines the question, even in matters of speculation; and, in matters of practice, will lay us under an absolute and formal obligation, in point of prudence and of interest, to act upon that presump- tion, or low probability, though it be so low as to leave the * The story is told by Mr. Locke, in the chapter on Probability. INTRODUCTION. 85 mind in very great doubt which is.the truth. For surely a man is as really bound in prudence to do what upon the whole appears, according to the best of his judgment, to be for his happiness, as what he certainly knows to be so. Nay, further, in questions of great consequence, a reasonable man will think it concerns him to remark lower probabilities and presumptions than these; such as amount to no more than showing one side of a question to be as supposable and credibly as the other; nay, such as but amount to much less even than this. For numberless instances might be mentioned respecting the com- mon pursuits of life, where a man would be thought, in a literal sense, distracted, who would not act, and with great application too, not only upon an even chance, but upon much Jess, and where the probability or chance was greatly against his succeeding.* It is not my design to inquire further into the nature, the foundation, and measure of probability; or whence it proceeds, that likeness should beget that presumption, opinion, and full conviction, which the human mind is formed to receive from it, and which it does necessarily produce in every one; or to guard against the errors to which reasoning from analogy is liable. This belongs to the subject of logic, and is a part of that subject which has not yet been thoroughly considered. Indeed, I shall not take upon me to say, how far the extent, compass, and force of analogical reasoning, can be reduced to general heads and rules, and the whole be formed into a system. But though so little in this way has been attempted by those who have treated of our intellectual powers, and the exercise of them, this does not hinder but that we may be, as we unquestionably are, assured, that analogy is of weight, in vari- ous degrees, towards determining our judgment, and our prac- tice. Nor does it in any wise cease to be of weight. in those cases, because persons, either given to dispute, or who require things to be stated with greater exactness than our faculties appear to admit of in practical matters, may find other cases, in which it is not easy to say, whether it be, or be not, of any weight; or instances of seeming analogies, which are really of none. It is enough to the present purpose to observe, that this general way of arguing is evidently natural, just, and conclusive. For there is no man can make a question but that the sun will en TT, * See Chap. vi. Part. IT. 8 86. INTRODUCTION. ‘ylse to-morrow, and be seen, where it is seen at all, in the figure of a circle, and not in that of a square. Hence, namely from analogical reasoning, Origen* has with singular sagacity observed, that “he who believes the Seripture to Have proceeded from him who is the Author of Nature, may well expect to find the same sort of difficulties in it,as are found in the constitution of Nature.” And in a like way of reflection, it may be added, that he who denies the Scripture to have been from God, upon account of these difficulties, may, for the very same reason, deny the world to have been formed by him. On the other hand, if there be an analogy, or likeness, between that system of things and dispensation of Providence, which revelation informs us of, and that system of things and dispen- sation of Providence, which experience, together with reason, informs us of, that is, the known course of nature; this is a— presumption, that they have both the same author and cause; at least so far as to answer objections against the former being from God, drawn from any thing which is analogical or similar to what is in the latter, which is acknowledged to be from him; for an Author of nature is here supposed. Forming our notions of the constitution and government of the world upon reasoning, without foundation for the principles which we assume, whether from the attributes of God or any thing else, is building a world upon hypothesis, like Descartes. Forming our notions upon reasoning from principles which are certain, but applied to cases to which we have no ground to apply them, (like those who explain the structure of the human body, and the nature of diseases and medicines, from mere mathematics, without sufficient data) is an error much akin to the former: since what is assumed in order to make the reason- ing applicable, is hypothesis. But it must be allowed just, to join abstract reasonings with the observation of facts, and argue from such facts as are known, to others that are like them ; from that part of the divine government over intelligent crea- tures, which comes under our view, to that larger and more general government over them, which is beyond it; and, from * Xpi pév roe ye tov anak rapadekdpevoy rod xricavros rdv Kéopov elvat tabras Tas ypadds mereiobat, bre boa mépl THS KTicEWS anavT@ Tots Gnroves ray rept avdrijs Aéyov, radra Kal xepl rOv ypagdv. Philocal. p. 23. Ed. Cant. [ This saga- cious remark is, however, strangely misapplied by Origen to the establishment of one of his favourite theories,—that there is a mys- tical meaning in every word and even letter of Scripture. F.] INTRODUCTION. 87 what is present, to collect what is likely, credible, or not incre- dible, will be hereafter. This method, then, of concluding and determining, being practical, and what, if we will act at all, we cannot but act upon in the common pursuits of life; being evidently conclu- sive, in various degrees, proportionable to the degree and exact- ness of the whole analogy or likeness; and having so great authority for its introduction into the subject of religion, even revealed religion, my design is to apply to that subject in gene- ral, both natural and revealed; taking for proved that there is an intelligent Author of Nature, and natural Governor of the world. Tor as there is no presumption against this prior to the proof of it, so it has been often proved with accumulated evi- dence; from this argument of analogy and final causes; from abstract reasonings; from the most ancient tradition and testi- mony; and from the general consent of mankind. Nor does it appear, so far as I can find, to be denied by the generality of those who profess themselves dissatisfied with the evidence of religion. ™ ? As there are some who, instead of thus attending to what is in fact the constitution of Nature, form their notions of God’s government upon hypothesis; so there are others who indulge themselves in vain and idle speculations, how the world might possibly have been framed otherwise than it is; and upon sup- position that things might, in imagining that they should, have been disposed and carried on after a better model, than what appears in the present disposition and conduct of them.—Sup- pose, now, a person of such a turn of mind to go on with his reveries, till he had at length fixed upon some particular plan of Nature, as appearing to him the best,—one shall scarce be thought guilty of detraction against human understanding, if one should say, even beforehand, that the plan which this speculative person would fix upon, though he were the wisest of the sons of men, probably would not be the very best, even according to his own notions of best; whether he thought that to be so, which afforded occasions and motives for the exercise of the greatest virtue, or which was productive of the greatest happiness, or that these two were necessarily connected, and ran up into one and the same plan. ‘However, it may not be amiss, once for all, to see what would be the amount of these emendations and imaginary improvements upon the system of Nature, or how far they would mislead us. Andi¥,'» Hoy et could be no stopping, till we came to some such c &8 INTRODUCTION. these :—That all creatures should at first be made as perfect and as happy, as they were capable of ever being: that nothing, to be sure, of hazard or danger should be put upon them to do, (some indolent persons would perhaps think, nothing at all): or certainly, that effectual care should be taken that they should, whether necessarily or not, yet eventually, and in fact, always do what was right and most conducive to happiness, which would be thought easy for infinite power to effect ; either by not giving them any principles which would endanger their going wrong, or by laying the right motive of action, in every instance, before their minds continually in so strong a manner, as would never fail of inducing them to act conformably to it: and that the whole method of government by punishments should be rejected as absurd ; as an awkward round-about method of carry- ing things on; nay, as contrary to a principal purpose, for which it would be supposed creatures were made, namely, happiness. Now, without considering what is to be said in particular to the several parts of this train of folly and extravagance, what has heen above intimated is a full, direct, general answer to it, namely, that we may see beforehand that we have not faculties for this kind of speculation. For though it be admitted, that, from the first principles of our nature, we unavoidably judge or determine some ends to be absolutely in themselves prefe- rable to others, and that the ends now mentioned, or, if they run up into one, that this one is absolutely the best, and, con- sequently, that we must conclude the ultimate end designed ia the constitution of Nature and conduct of Providence, is the most virtue and happiness possible; yet we are far from being able to judge what particular disposition of things would be most friendly and assistant to virtue; or what means might be absolutely necessary to produce the most happiness in a system of such extent as our own world may be, taking in all that is past and to come, though we should suppose it detached from the whole of things. Indeed, we are so far from being able to judge of this, that we are not judges what may be the neces- sary means of raising and conducting one person to the highest perfection and happiness of his nature. Nay, even in the little affairs of the present life, we find men of different educations and ranks are not competent judges of the conduct of each other. Our whole nature leads us to ascribe all moral perfection to God, and to deny all imperfection of him. And this will for ever be a practical proof of his moral character, to such as will consider what a practical proof is, because it is the voice of God INTRODUCTION. © 89 speaking in us. And from hence we conclude, that virtue must be the happiness, and vice the misery, of every creature; and that regularity, and order, and right, cannot but prevail finally, in a universe under his government. But we are in no sort judges what are the necessary means of accomplishing this end. Let us, then, instead of that idle and not very innocent em- ployment of forming imaginary models of a world, and schemes of governing it, turn our thoughts.to what we experience to be the conduct of Nature with respect to intelligent creatures ; which may be resolved into general laws or rules of adminis- tration, in the same way as many of the laws of Nature respect- ing inanimate matter, may be collected from experiments. And let us compare the known constitution and course of things, with what is said to be the moral system of nature; the acknow- ledged dispensations of Providence, or that government which we find ourselves under, with what religion teaches us to believe and expect; and see whether they are not analogous, and of a piece. And upon such a comparison it will, I think, be found, that they are very much so; that both may be traced up to the same general laws, and resolved into the same principles of Divine conduct. The analogy here proposed to be considered, is of pretty large extent, and consists of several parts; in some more, in others less exact. In some few instances, perhaps, it may amount to a real practical proof, in others not so: yet in these it is a con- firmation of what is proved otherways. It will undeniably show, what too many want to have shown them, that the system of religion, both natural and revealed, considered only as a system, and prior to the proof of it, is not a subject of ridicule, unless that of Nature be so too. And it will afford an answer to almost all objections against the system both of natural and of revealed religion; though not perhaps an answer in so great a degree, yet in a very considerable degree an answer, to the objections against the evidence of it: for objec- tions against a proof, and objections against what is said to be proved, the reader will observe, are different things. Now the Divine government of the world, implied in the notion of religion in general, and of Christianity, contains in it,—That mankind is appointed to live in a future state ;* that« there every one shall be rewarded or punished ;} rewarded or punished respectively for all that behaviour here, which we gn Cha. + Oh. ii. Bo comprehend under the words, virtuous or vicious, morally good or evil;* that our present life is a probation, a state of trial, and of disciplinet for that future’ one, notwithstanding the objections which men may fancy they have, from notions of necessity, against there being any such moral plan as this at all:§ and whatever objections may appear to lie against the wisdom and goodness of it, as it stands so imperfectly made known to us at present:|| that this world being in a state of apostacy and wickedness, and consequently of ruin, and the sense both of their condition and ‘duty being greatly corrupted amongst men, this gave occasion for an additional dispensation of Providence, of the utmost importance,{] proved by miracles,** but containing in it many things appearing to us strange, and not to have been expected;+} a dispensation of Providence, which is a scheme or system of things,{t carried on by the me- diation of a divine person, the Messiah, in order to the recovery of the world ;|||| yet not revealed to all men, nor proved with the strongest possible evidence to all those to whom it is re- vealed; but only to such a part of mankind, and with such particular evidence, as the wisdom of God thought fit. 74 The design, then, of the following Treatise will be to show, that the several parts principally objected against in this moral and Christian dispensation, including its scheme, its publication, and the proof which God has afforded us of its truth; that the particular parts principally objected against in this whole dis- pensation, are analogous to what is experienced in the constitu- tion and course of Nature, or Providence; that the chief objec- tions themselves, which are alleged against the former, are no other than what may be alleged with like justness against the latter, where they are found in fact to be inconclusive; and that this argument, from analogy, is in general unanswerable, and undoubtedly of weight on the side of religion,*** notwith- standing the objections which may seem to lie against it, and the real ground which there may be for difference of opinion, as to the particular degree of weight which is to be laid upon it. This is a general account of what may be looked for in the following Treatise. And I shall begin it with that which is the foundation of all our hopes and of all our fears—all our hopes and fears which are of any consideration—-I mean a Future Life, 90 INTRODUCTION. a * Ch. iii. TCh Ave t'Ch. vy. @ Ch. vi. | Ch. vii. {art ii, Chi. ** Ch. ii. tt Ch. iii. tie By Reh {||| Ch. v. Wq Ch. vi. vii. Fe Ch. Vb THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION, &e. 9 ———= a PART I. OF NATURAL RELIGION. CHAP. I. Of a Future Life. SrRANGE difficulties have been raised by some concerning personal identity, or the sameness of living agents, implied in the notion of our existing now and hereafter, or im any two successive moments; which whoever thinks it worth while, may see considered in the first Dissertation at the end of this Trea- tise. But, without regard to any of them here, let us consider what the analogy of Nature, and the several changes which we have undergone, and those. which we know we may undergo without being destroyed, suggest, as to the effect which death may, or may not, have upon us; and whether it be not from thence probable, that we may survive this change, and exist in a future state of life and perception. I. From our being born into the present world in the help- less imperfect state of infancy, and having arrived from thence to mature age, we find it to be a general law of nature in our own species, that the same creatures, the same individuals, should exist in degrees of life and perception, with capacities of action, of enjoyment and suffering, in one period of their being greatly different from those appointed them in another period of it. And in other creatures the same law holds. For the difference of their capacities and states of life at their birth (to go no higher) and in maturity; the change of worms into | flies, and the vast enlargement of their locomotive powers by G1 92 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART I. such change; and birds and insects bursting the shell, their | habitation, and by this means entering into a new world, fur- nished with new accommodations for them, and finding a new sphere of action assigned them—these are instances of this general law of nature. Thus all the various and wonderful transformations of animals are to be taken into consideration here. But the states of life in which we ourselves existed for- merly in the womb and in our infancy, are almost as different from our present in mature age, as it 1s possible to conceive any two states or degrees of life can be. Therefore, that we are to exist hereafter in a state as different (suppose) from our present, as this is from our former, is but according to the analogy of nature ; according to a natural order or appointment of the very same kind with what we have already experienced.* II. We know that we are endued with capacities of action, of happiness, and misery; for we are conscious of acting, of enjoying pleasure, and suffering pain. Now, that we have these powers and capacities before death, is a presumption that we shall retain them through and after death; indeed a probability of it abundantly sufficient to act upon, unless there be some positive reason to think that death is the destruction of those living powers: because there is in every case a probability that * [Iam not sure that this, at least at the present stage of the ar- gument, is a perfectly fair statement of the matter. For there is this essential difference between the state in which death appears to place us, and any state previously known by experience, that in the former we seem wholly deprived of any bodily organization. Previous expe- rience might, indeed, go the length of showing that a thinking being might continue the same, and retain the exercise of its living powers, under infinite varieties of organization. But this surely is a different thing from continuance without any organization whatever, nor capa- ble of being reached by the present proof, unless we take in some such additional considerations as Butler proceeds to allege after- wards. However, it is to be remembered that natural religion does not necessarily teach that we shall exist hereafter without any bodily organization, — for we may pass, at death, into a bodily organization, inappreciable by our present senses, for anything we know to the con- trary, —and revealed religion does expressly teach that, in at least one part of our future existence, we shall have a corporeal organiza- tion. In effect, the ancient theistical philosophers, who held a future state of retribution, almost universally supposed the soul to pass into or retain some other body after its separation from the present; either, as in the vulgar metempsychosis, passing into another gross body of y same kind, or retaining a certain ethereal vehicle of its own. — F. . j * CHAP. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 93 all things will continue as we experience they are, in aii resp. cts, except those in which we have some reason to think they will be altered. This is that kind* of presumption or probability from analogy, expressed in the very word continuance, which seems our only natural reason for believing the course of the world will continue to-morrow, as it has done so far as our ex- perience or knowledge of history can carry us back. Nay it seems our only reason for believing, that any one subsiance, now existing, will continue to exist a moment longer; the Self- existent Substance only excepted. Thus if men were assured that the unkuown event, death, was not the destruction of our faculties of perception and of action, there would be no apprehen- sion, that any other power or event unconnected with this of death, would destroy these faculties just at the instant of each creature’s death; and therefore no doubt but that they would remain after it: which shows the high probability that our living powers will continue after death, unless there be some ground to think that death will be their destruction.f For if it would be in a manner certain that we should:survive death, provided it were certain that death would not be our destruc- tion, it must be highly probable that we shall survive it, if there be no ground to think death will be our destruction. Now, though I think it must be acknowledged, that prior to the natural and moral proofs of a future life commonly insisted upon, there would arise a general confused suspicion, that in the great shock and alternation which we shall undergo by death, we, that is, our living powers, might be wholly destroyed; yet, even prior to those proofs, there is really no particular distinct ground * I say kind of presumption or probability; for Ido not mean to affirm that there is the same degree of conviction, that our living powers will continue after death, as there is, that our substances will. + Destruction of living powers, is a manner of expression unavoida- bly ambiguous; and may signify either ihe destruction of a living being, so as that the same living being shall be incapable of ever perceiving or acting again at all; or the destruction of those means and insiruments by which it is capable of its present life, of its present state of perception and of action. It is here used in the former sense. When it is used in the latter, the epithet present is added. The loss of a man’s eye is a destruction of living powers in the latter sense. But we have no reason to think the destruction of living powers in the former sense to be possible. We have no more reason to think a being endued with living powers ever loses them during its whole existence, than to believe that a stone ever acquires them. 94 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART I. or reason for this apprehension at all, so far as I can find. If there be, it must arise either from the reason of the thing, or from the analogy of Nature. But we cannot argue from the reason of the thing, that death is the destruction of living agents, because we know not at all what death is in itself; but only some of its effects, such as the dissolution of flesh, skin, and bones. And these effects do in nowise appear to imply the destruction of a living agent. And besides, as we are greatly in the dark, upon what’ the exercise of our living powers depends, so we are wholly ignorant what the powers themselves depend upon; the powers themselves, as distinguished not only from their actual exercise, but also from the present capacity of exercising them; and as opposed to their destruction: for sleep, or however, a swoon, shows us not only that these powers exist when they are not exercised, as the passive power of motion does in inanimate matter; but shows also that they exist when there is no present capacity of exer- cising them; or that the capacities of exercising them for the present, as well as the actual exercise of them may be sus- pended, and yet the powers themselves remain undestroyed. Since then we know not at all upon what the existence of our living powers depends, this shows further, there can no proba- bility be collected from the reason of the thing, that death will be their destruction: because their existence may depend upon somewhat in no degree affected by death ; upon somewhat quite out of the reach of this king of terrors. So that there is nothing more certain than that the reason of the thing shows us no con- nection between death and the destruction of living agents. Nor can we find anything throughout the whole analogy of Na- ture, to afford us even the slightest presumption, that animals ever lose their living powers; much less, if it were possible, that they lose them by death; for we have no faculties where. With to trace any beyond or through it, so as to see what becomes of them. This event removes them from our view. It destroys the senstble proof, which we had before their death, of their being possessed of living powers, but does not appear to afford the least reason to believe that they are then, or by that event, deprived of them. And our knowing that they were possessed of these powers, up to the very period to which we have faculties capable of tracing them, is itself a probability of their retaining them be- yond it. And this is confirmed, and a sensible credibility is CHAP. 1.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 95 given to it, by observing the very great and astonishing changes which we ‘have expericneed ; so great, that our existence in another state of life, of perception and of action, will be but according to a method of providential conduct, the like to which has been already exercised, even with regard to ourselves; ac- cording to a course of nature, the like to which we have already gone through. However, as one cannot but be greatly sensible, how difficult it is to silence imagination enough to make the voice of reason even distinctly heard in this case; as-we are accustomed, from our youth up, to indulge that forward delusive faculty, ever obtruding beyond its sphere; of some assistance, indeed, to apprehension, but the author of all error: as we plainly lose ourselves in gross and crude conceptions of things, taking for granted that we are acquainted with what indeed we are wholly ignorant of; it may be proper to consider the imaginary pre- sumptions, that death will be our destruction, arising from these kinds of early and lasting prejudices; and to show how little they can really amount to, even though we cannot wholly divest ourselves of them. And, I. All presumption of death’ s being the destruction of living beings, must go upon supposition that they are compounded, and so discerptible.* But since consciousness is a single and indivisible power, it should seem that the subject in which it resides must be so too. For were the motion of any particle of matter absolutely one and. indivisible, so as that it should imply a contradiction to suppose part of this motion to exist, and part not to exist, that is, part of this matter to move, and part to be at rest; then its power of motion would be indivisi- ble; and so also would the subject in which the power inheres, : namely the particle of matter: for if this could be divided into two, one part might be moved and the other at rest, which is contrary to the supposition. In like manner, it has been ar- gued,y and for anything appearing to the contrary, justly, that since the perception, or consciousness, which we have of our own existence, is indivisible, so as that it is a contradiction to Suppose one part of it should be here and the other there; the perceptive power, or the power of consciousness, is indivisible too; and consequently, the subject in which it resides, that is, * [ See note at the end of this chapter. ] } See Dr. Clarke’s Letter to Mr. Dowdell, and the Defences of it. 96 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART I. the conscious being. Now upon supposition that living agent each man calls himself, is thus a single being, which there is at least no more difficulty in conceiving than in conceiving it to be a compound, and of which there is the proof now mentioned ; it follows that our organized bodies are no more ourselves, or part of ourselves, than any other matter around us. And it is as easy to conceive how matter, which is no part of ourselves, ray be appropriated to us in the manner which our present bodies are, as how we can receive impressions from, and have power over any matter. It is as easy to conceive, that we may exist out of bodies; as in them; that we might have animated bodies of any other organs and senses wholly different from these now given us, and that we may hereafter animate these same or new bodies variously modified and organized, as to con- ceive how we can animate such bodies as our present. And, lastly, the dissolution of all these several organized bodies, sup- posing ourselves to have successively animated them, would bave no more conceivable tendency to destroy the living beings, ourselves, or deprive us of living faculties, the faculties of per- ception and of action, than the dissolution of any foreign matter, which we are capable of receiving impressions from, and making use of for the common occasions of life. If. The simplicity and absolute oneness of a living agent cannot, indeed, from the nature of the thing, be properly proved by experimental observations. But as these fall in with the supposition of its unity, so they plainly lead us to conclude certainly, that our gross organized bodies, with which we per- ceive the objects of sense, and with which we act, are no part of ourselves, and therefore show us, that we have no reason to believe their destruction to be ours; even without determining whether our living substance be material or immaterial. For we see by experience that men may lose their limbs, their organs of sense, and even the greatest part of these bodies, and yet remain the same living agents. And persons can trace up the existence of themselves to a time when the bulk of théir bodies was extremely small, in comparison of what it is in mature age: and we cannot but think that they might then have lost a con- siderable part of that small body, and yet have remained the same living agents, as they may now lose great part of their present body, and remain so. And it is certain, that the bodies of all animals are in a constant flux, from that never-ceasing attrition which there is in every part of them. Now, things of CHAP. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 97 this kind unavoidably teach us to distinguish between these living agents, ourselves, and large quantities of matter, in which we are very nearly interested; since these may be alienated, and actually are in a daily course of succession, and changing their owners; whilst we are assured that each living agent re- mains one and the same permanent being.* And this general observation leads us on to the following ones. - | 1. That we have no way of deterniining by experience, what is the certain bulk of the living being each man calls himself ; and yet, till it be determined that it is larger in bulk than the solid elementary particles of matter, which there is‘no ground to think any natural power can dissolve, there is no sort of reason to think death to be the dissolution of it, of the living being, even although it should not be absolutely indiscerptible. 2. From our being so nearly related to, and interested in cer- tain systems of matter, suppose our flesh and bones, and after- wards ceasing to be at all related to them, the living agents, ourselves, remaiuing all this while undestroyed, notwithstanding such alienation; and consequently these systems of matter not being ourselves: it follows, further, that we have no ground to conclude any other, suppose internal systems of matter, to be the living agents ourselves; because we can have no ground to conclude this, but from our relation to, and interest in, such other systems of matter: and therefore we can have no reason to conclude, what befals those systems of matter at death, to be the destruction of the living agents. We have already, several times over, lost a great part, or perhaps the whole of our body, according to certain common established laws of nature; yet we remain the same living agents: when we shall lose as great a part, or the whole, by another common established law of na- ture, death, why may we not also remain the same? That the alienation has been gradual in one case, and in the other will be more at once, does not prove anything to the contrary. We have passed undestroyed through those many and great revolu- tions of matter, so peculiarly appropriated to us ourselves; why should we imagine death will be so fatal tous? Nor can it be objected, that what is thus alienated, or lost, is no part of our original solid body, but only adventitious matter; because we may lose entire limbs, which must have contained many solid parts and vessels of the original body: or if this be not admit- ne eh nine * See Dissertation L. a ~ 98 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART I. ted, we have no proof that any of these solid parts are dissolved or alienated by death ; though, by the way, we are very nearly re- lated to that extraneous or adventitious matter, whilst it conti- nues united to and distending the several parts of our solid body. But after all, the relation a person bears to those parts of his body to which he is the most nearly related, what does it ap- pear to amount to but this, that the living agent and those parts of the body mutually affect each other? And the same thing, the same thing in kind, though not in degree, may be said of all foreign matter, which gives us ideas, and which we have any power over. From these observations the whole ground of the imagination is removed, that the dissolution of any matter is the destruction of a living agent, from the inte- rest he once had in such matter. 3. If we consider our body somewhat more distinctly, as made up of organs and instruments of perception and of mo- tion, it will bring us to the same conclusion. Thus, the com- mon optical experiments show, and even the observation how sight is assisted by glasses shows, that we see with our eyes in the same sense as we see with glasses. Nor is there any reason to believe, that we see with them in any other sense; any other, [ mean, which would lead us to think the eye itself a percipient. The like is to be said of hearing: and our feeling distant solid matter by means of somewhat in our hand, seems an instance of the like kind, as to the subject we are consider- ing. All these are instances of foreign matter, or such as is no part of our body, being instrumental in preparing objects for, and conveying them to the perceiving power, in a manner simi- lar, or like to the manner in which our organs of sense prepare and convey them. Both are, in a like way, instruments of our receiving such ideas from external objects, as the Author of nature appointed those external objects to be the occasions of exciting in us. However, glasses are evidently instances of this; namely, of matter, which is no part of our body, preparing objects for, and conveying them towards the perceiving power, in like manner as our bodily organs do. And if we see with our eyes only, in the same manner as we do with glasses, the like may justly be concluded, from analogy, of all our other senses. It is not intended, by any thing here said, to affirm, that the whole apparatus of vision, or of perception by any other of our senses, can be traced, through all its steps, quite up to the living power of seeing, or perceiving; but that so far CHAP. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 99 as it can be traced by experimental observations, so far it ap- pears, that our organs of sense prepare and convey on objects, in order to their being perceived, in like manner as foreign matter does, without affording any shadow of appearance, that they themselves perceive. And that we have no reason to think our organs of sense percipients, is confirmed by instances of persons losing some of them, the living beings themselves, their former occupiers, remaining unimpaired. It is confirmed also by the experience of dreams; by which we find we are at present possessed of a latent, and what would otherwise be an unimagined unknown power of perceiving sensible objects, in as strong and lively a manner without our external organs of sense, as with them. So also with regard to our power of moving, or directing motion by will and choice: upon the destruction of a limb, this active power remains, as it evidently seems, unlessened; so as that the living being, who has suffered this loss, would be capa- ble of moving as before, if it had another limb to move with. It can walk by the help of an artificial leg, just as it can make use of a pole or a lever, to reach towards itself, and to move things beyond the length and the power of its natural arm: and this last it does in the same manner as it reaches and moves, with its natural arm, things nearer and of less weight. Nor is there so much as any appearance of our limbs being endued with a power of moving or directing themselves ; though they are adapted, like the several parts of a machine, to be the instruments of motion to each other; and some parts of the same limb, to be instruments of motion to other parts of it. Thus a nan determines, that he will look at such an object through a microscope; or being lame suppose, that he will walk to such a place with a staff a week hence. His eyes and his feet no more determine in these cases, than the microscope and the staff. Nor is there any ground to think they any more put the determination in practice, or that his eyes are the seers or his feet the movers, in any other sense than as the micro- scope and the staff are. Upon the whole then, our organs of sense and our limbs are certainly instruments, which the living persons, ourselves, make use of to perceive and move with : there is not any probability, that they are any more; nor consequent- ly, that we have any other kind of relation to them, than what we may have to any other foreign matter formed into instru- 100 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART I. ments of perception and motion, suppose into a microscope or a staff (I say, any other kind of relation, for I am not speaking of the degree of it;) nor consequently, is there any probability, that the alienation or dissolution of these instruments is the destruction of the perceiving and moving agent. And thus our finding, that the dissolution of matter in which living beings were most nearly interested, is not their dissolu- tion; and that the destruction of several of the organs and in. struments of perception, and of motion belonging to them, is not their destruction; shows demonstratively, that there is no ground to think that the dissolution of any other matter, or destruction of any other organs and instruments, will be the dissolution or destruction of living agents, from the like kind of relation. And we have no reason to think we stand in any other kind of relation to any thing which we find dissolved by death. But it is said, these observations are equally applicable to brutes; and it is thought an insuperable difficulty, that they should be immortal, and by consequence, capable of everlasting happiness. Now this manner of expression is both invidious and weak; but the thing intended by it, is really no difficulty at all, either in the way of natural or moral consideration. For Ist, Suppose the invidious thing, designed in such a manner of expression, were really implied, as it is not in the least, in the natural immortality of brutes; namely, that they must arrive at great attainments, and become rational and moral agents ; even this would be no difficulty, since we know not what latent powers and capacities they may be endued with. There was once, prior to experience, as great presumption against human creatures, as there is against the brute creatures, arriving at that degree of understanding which we have in mature age; for we can trace up our own existence to the same original with theirs. And we find it to be a general law of nature, that creatures endued with capacities of virtue and religion, should be placed in a condition of being, in which they are altogether without the use of them for a considerable length of their dura- tion, as in infancy and childhood. And great part of the human: species go out of the present world, before they come to the exercise of these capacities in any degree at all. But then 2dly, The natural immortality of brutes does not in the least imply, that they are endued with any latent capacities of a rational or moral nature. And the economy of the universe CHAP. I. | OF A FUTURE LIFE. 101 might require, that there should be living creatures without any capacities of this kind. And all difficulties, as to the manner how they are to be disposed of, are so apparently and wholly founded on our ignorance, that it is wonderful they should be insisted upon by any, but such as are weak enough to think they are acquainted with the whole system of things. There is then absolutely nothing at all in this objection, which is so rhetorically urged against the greatest part of the natural proof or presumptions of the immortality of human minds: I say, the greatest part; for it is less applicable to the following ob- servation, which is more peculiar to mankind : — III. That as it is evident our present powers and capacities of reason, memory, and affection, do not depend upon our gross body, in the manner in which perception by our organs of sense does; so they do not appear to depend upon it at all in any such manner, as to give ground to think, that the dissolution of this body will be the destruction of these our present powers of reflection, as it will of our powers of sensation; or to give ground to conclude, even that it will be so much as a suspen- sion of the former. Human creatures exist at present in two states of life and perception, greatly different from each other; each of which has its own peculiar laws, and its own peculiar enjoyments and sufferings. When any of our senses are affected, or appetites gratified with the objects of them, we may be said to exist, or live, in a state of sensation. When none of our senses are affected, or appetites gratified, and yet we perceive and reason and act, we may be said to exist or live in a state of_reflection. Now it is by no means certain, that any thing which is dissolved by death is any way necessary to the living being, in this its state of reflection, after ideas are gained. For though from our present constitution and condition of being, our external organs of sense are necessary for conveying in ideas to our reflecting powers, as carriages and levers and scaffolds are in architecture; yet when these ideas are brought in, we are ca- pable of reflecting in the most intense degree, and of enjoying the greatest pleasure, and feeling the greatest pain, by means of that reflection, without any assistance from our senses; and without any at all, which we know of, from that body, which will be dissolved by death. It does not appear then, that the relation of this gross body to the reflecting being is, in any degree, necessary to thinking ; gx 102 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART I. to our intellectual enjoyments or sufferings: nor, consequently, that the dissolution or alienation of the former by death, will be the destruction of those present powers, which render us capable of this state of reflection. Further, there are instances of mortal diseases, which do not at all affect our present intellec- tual powers, and this affords a presumption, that those diseases will not destroy these present powers. Indeed, from the obser- vations made above,* it appears, that there is no presumption, from their mutually affecting each other, that the dissolution of the body is the destruction of the living agent. And by the same reasoning it must appear too, that there is no presumption, from their mutually affecting each other, that the dissolution of the body is the destruction of our present reflecting powers ; but instances of their not affecting each other, afford a presump- tion to the contrary. Instances of mortal diseases not impairing our present reflecting powers, evidently turn our thoughts even from imagining such diseases to be the destruction of them. Several things indeed greatly affect all our living powers, and at length suspend the exercise of them; as for instance drow- siness, increasing till it end in sound sleep: and from hence we might have imagined it would destroy them, till we found, by experience, the weakness of this way of judging. But in the diseases now mentioned, there is not so much as this shadow of probability, to lead us to any such conclusion, as to the reflect- ing powers which we have at present; for in those diseases, persons, the moment before death, appear to be in the highest vigour of life. They discover apprehension, memory, reason, all entire; with the utmost force of affection, sense of a charac- ter, of shame and honour; and the highest mental enjoyments and sufferings, even to the last gasp; and these surely prove even greater vigour of life than bodily strength does. Now what pretence is there for thinking, that a progressive disease, when arrived to such a degree, I mean that degree which is mortal, will destroy those powers, which were not impaired, which were not affected by it, during its whole progress, quite up to that degree? And if death, by diseases of this kind, is not the destruction of our present reflecting powers, it will scarce be thought that death by any other means is. It is obvious, that this general observation may be carried on further: and there appears so little connection between our mit gah ig ES SO UE iat SCOPE in * Pages 96, 97, 98. CHAP. I. ] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 103 bodily powers of sensation, and our present powers of reflection, that there is no reason to conclude that death, which destroys the former, does so much as suspend the exercise of the latter, or interrupt our continuing to exist in the like state of reflection which we do now. For suspension of reason, memory, and the affections which they excite, is no part of the idea of death, nor is implied in our note of it. And our daily experiencing these powers to be exercised, without any assistance, that we know of, from those bodies which will be dissolved by death ; and our finding often, that the exercise of them is’so lively to the last; these things afford a sensible apprehension, that death may not perhaps be so much as a discontinuance of the exercise of these powers, nor of the enjoyments and sufferings which it implies ;* so that our posthumous life, whatever there may be in it additional to our present, yet may not be entirely begin- ning anew, but going on. Death may, in some sort, and in some respects, answer to our birth, which is not a suspension of the faculties which we had before it, or a total change of the state of life in which we existed when in the womb, but a con- tinuation of both, with such and such great alterations. Nay, for aught we know of ourselves, of our present life, and of death, death may immediately, in the natural course of things, put us into a higher and more enlarged state of life, as our birth does ;f a state in which our capacities and sphere of perception and of action, may be much greater than at present. For as our relation to our external organs of sense renders us capable of existing in our present state of sensation, so it may be the only natural hinderance to our existing, immediately and of course, in a higher state of reflection. The truth is, reason * There are three distinct questions, relating to a future life here considered: Whether death be the destruction of living agents? If not, whether it be the destruction of their present powers of reflection, as it certainly is the destruction of their present powers of sensation ? and, if not, Whether it be the suspension, or discontinuance of the exercise, of these present reflecting powers? Now, if there be no reason to believe the last, there will be, if that were possible, less for the next, and less still for the first. + This, according to Strabo, was the opinion of the Brahmans: voniew pév yap dh rov pév ivOdde Blov, bs av axpuhy Kvopévwy evar? rv dé Sdvatov, yéveoty cis tov dvtws Biov, kat rdv eddaipova ruis dirocogjcact. Lib. XV. p. 1039. Ed. Amst. 1707. To which opinion, perhaps, Antoninus may allude in these words, és viv mepepévers, Tore Epbpvov &k Tijs yaotpos Tis yvvatkds cov ééO7, otrws éxdéyeobar Thy Goav év } 7d Woy dordy cov Tod éhiTpov rovrou ékreceirat. Lib. IX. c. 3. 104 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART T. does not at all show us in what state death naturally leaves us. But were we sure that it would suspend all our perceptive and active powers, yet the suspension of a power, and the destruc- tion of it, are effects so totally different in kind, as we expe- rience from sleep and a swoon, that we cannot in anywise argue from one to the other; or conclude, even to the lowest degree of probability, that the same kind of force which is sufh- cient to suspend our faculties, though it be increased ever so much, will be sufficient to destroy them. These observations together may be sufficient to show, how little presumption there is that death is the destruction of human creatures. However, there is the shadow of an ana- logy, which may lead us to imagine it is; the supposed like- ness which is observed between the decay of vegetables and living creatures. And this likeness is indeed sufficient to afford the poets very apt allusions to the flowers of the field, in their pictures of the frailty of our present life. But in reason, the analogy is so far from holding, that there appears no ground even for the comparison, as to the present question; because one of the two subjects compared is wholly void of that, which is the principal and chief thing in the other, the power of per- ception and of action; and which is the only thing we are in- quiring about the continuance of. So that the destruction of a vegetable is an event not similar, or analogous, to the destruc- tion of a living agent. But if, as was above intimated, leaving off the delusive custom of substituting imagination in the room of experience, we would confine ourselves to what we do know and understand; if we would argue only from that, and from that form our expecta- tions, it would appear at first sight, that as no probability of living beings ever ceasing to be so, can be concluded from the reason of the thing, so none can be collected from the analogy of Nature; because we cannot trace any living beings beyond death. But as we are conscious that we are endued with capa- cities of perception and of action, and are living persons, what we are to go upon is, that we shall continue so till we foresee _ some accident, or event, which will endanger those capacities, or es likely to destroy us; which death does in nowise appear. to be. And thus, when we go out of this world, we may pass into new scenes, and a new state of life and action, just as naturally as we came into the present. And this new state may natu- CHAP. I. | OF A FUTURE LIFE. 105 rally be a social one. And the advantages of it, advantages of every kind, may naturally be bestowed, according to some fixed general laws of wisdom, upon every one in proportion to the degrees of his virtue. And though the advantages of that future natural state should not be bestowed, as these of the pre- sent in some measure are, by the will of the society, but entire- ly by His more immediate action, upon whom the whole frame of nature depends, yet this distribution may be just as natural, as their being distributed here by the instrumentality of men. And indeed, though one were to allow any confused undeter- mined sense, which people please to put upon the word natural, it would be a shortness of thought scarce credible to imagine, that no system or course of things can be so, but only what we see at present ;* especially whilst the probability of a future life, or the natural immortality of the soul, is admitted upon the evidence of reason; because this is really both admitting and denying at once, a state of being different from the present to be natural. But the only distinct meaning of the word is, stated, fixed, or settled ; since what is natural as much requires and presupposes an intelligent agent to render it so, that is, to effect it continually, or at stated times, as what is supernatural or miraculous does to effect it for once. And from hence it must follow, that persons’ notion of what is natural will be enlarged, in proportion to their greater knowledge of the works of God, and the dispensations of his Providence. Nor is there any absurdity in supposing, that there may be beings in the universe, whose capacities, and knowledge, and views, may be so extensive, as that the whole Christian dispensation may to them appear natural; that is, analogous or conformable to God’s- dealings with other parts of his creation; as natural as the visi- ble known course of things appears to us. For there seems scarce any other possible sense to be put upon the word, but that only in which it is here used: similar, stated, or uniform. This credibility of a future life, which has been here insisted upon, how little soever it may satisfy our curiosity, seems to answer all the purposes of religion, in like manner as a demon- strative proof would. Indeed a proof, even a demonstrative one, of a future life, would not be a proof of religion. For that we are to live hereafter, is just as reconcilable with the scheme if atheism, and as well to be accounted for by it, as that we are — ~ * See Part ii. ch. 2. and Part ii. ch. 8. 106 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PART I. now alive is; and therefore nothing can be more absurd than to argue from that scheme, that there can be no future state. But as religion imphies a future state, any presumption against such a state is a presumption against religion. And the foregoing observations remove all presumptions of this sort, and prove, to a very considerable degree of probability, one fundamental doctrine of religion ; which, if believed, would greatly open and dispose the mind seriously to attend to the general evidence of the whole. [The difficulty of part (P. 95, &c.) of this chapter grows out of the fact that Butler goes beyond the analogical argument, and en- deavours to establish a demonstrative proof of our immortality. The best comment on it, with which we have met, is the following from Dr. Chalmers: ; ‘This chapter is infected by the obscure metaphysics which ob- tained in England at the commencement of the last century, which even the reasonings of Clarke have not been able to sustain; and which, when disjoined from his talent, as in the pages of Wollaston, and throughout the greater part of the Boyle lectureship, betrays the same sort of mysticism, the same want of clearness and conclusive- ness, as do the scholastic subtleties of the Middle Ages. We allude more particularly to what Butler says of the indivisibility of con- sciousness, and to the confident inference that he would found there- upon as to the simple and so indestructible nature of the agent in which this uncompounded faculty resides —reminding us of certain argumentations which are still to be heard on the immateriality, as a ground for believing in the immortality of the human soul. And neither can we admit with him that because we have no positive reason for believing death to be destruction of the living agent, there is the same ground for believing him to be still alive that there is for our natural faith in the continuance of anything. If this con sideration hold true, then, instead of its yielding but a dim or slende, probability, it presents us with an absolute demonstration. Not as if Butler thought of analogy that it constitutes this argument; but he evidently thinks that it hands us over toit. * * * * * It is not enough to say that the entire self survives the loss of a limb. The conclusion is, that therefore it may Survive the loss or separation of the whole body —very different truly from the conclusion which is more than hinted at in this chapter, that the soul must so survive it. In all instances which are alleged here of mutilation or destrue- tion, we have the remaining sensible proof for the continuance of the living powers. In the grand or final destruction of the whole body, we have no such proof; and this must be supplied from another source than from the analogy itself, which has demonstrated but the posse, and not the esse of the soul’s immortality. It has not supplied the proof, but only removed every bar in the way of it.”— Lectures on Butler’s Analogy, Posthumous Works, vol. ix. p. 62. See also ex- amination of the argument of Butler’s Ist chapter, in Duke’s Analy- sis, Appendix, p. 76.] & CHAP. I.] OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, LO7 ee CHAP. IL had Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishments, and particularly of the latter. THAT which makes the question concerning a future life to be of so great importance to us, is our capacity of happiness and misery. And that which makes the consideration of it to be of so great importance to us, is the supposition of our hap- piness and misery hereafter, depending upon our actions here. Without this indeed, curiosity could not but sometimes bring a subject, in which we may be so highly interested, to our thoughts; especially upon the mortality of others, or the near prospect of our own. But reasonable men would not take any farther thought about hereafter, than what should happen thus occasionally to rise in their minds, if it were certain, that our future interest no way depended upon our present behaviour: whereas, on the contrary, if there be ground, either from anal- ogy or any thing else, to think it does; then there is reason also for the most active thought and solicitude, to secure that interest; to behave so as that we may escape that misery, and obtain that happiness in another life, which we not only suppose ourselves capable of, but which we apprehend also is put in our own power. And whether there be ground for this last appre- hension, certainly would deserve to be most seriously considered, were there no other proof of a future life and interest, than that presumptive one, which the foregoing observations amount to, Now, in the present state, all which we enjoy, and a great part of what we suffer, 7s put tn ows own power. For pleasure and pain are the consequences of our actions; and we are en- dued by the Author of our nature with capacities of foreseeing these consequences, We find by experience he does not so much as preserve our lives, exclusively of our own care and attention, to provide ourselves with, and to make use of that sustenance, by which he has appointed our lives shall be preserved; and with- out which, he has appointed, they shall not be preserved at all, And in general we foresee, that the external things, which are the objects of our various passions, can neither be obtained nor enjoyed without exerting ourse!ves in such and such manners : al 108 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [PART I. but by thus exerting ourselves, we obtain and enjoy these ob- jects, in which our natural good consists; or by this means God gives us the possession and enjoyment of them. I Know not that we have any one kind or degree of enjoyment, but by the means of our own actions. And b dence and care, we may, for the most part, pass our days in tolerable ease and quiet : or, on the contrary, we may by rashness, ungoverned passion, wil- fulness, or even by negligence, make ourselves as miserable as ever we please. And many do please to make themselves ex- tremely miserable, that is, to do what they know beforehand will render them so. They follow those ways, the fruit of which they know, by instruction, example, experience, will be disgrace, and poverty, and sickness, and untimely death. This every one observes to be the general course of things; though it is to be allowed, we cannot find by experience, that all our sufferings are owing to our own follies. Why the Author of Nature does not give his creatures pro- miscuously such and such perceptions, without regard to their behaviour; why he does not make them happy without the in- strumentality of their own actions, and prevent their bringing any sufferings upon themselves, is another matter.* Perhaps there may be some impossibilities in the nature of things which oe ‘ pia a eats 2 ke ns UD ee * [Butler here hints at several possible solutions of the old athe- istical dilemma. God prevents not evil, either because He cannot, or because He will not. If He cannot, He is not Almighty. If He will not, He is not All-good. Butler shows us that neither conclusion can be safely drawn. The supposition that God cannot remove these eyils does not necessarily imply any defect in power: because, for any thing we know to the contrary, the removal of them might involve a contradiction, and not to be able to do what is self-contradictory and impossible in the notion of it, is plainly no limitation of power. The supposition that, though He can, He will not remove them, does not necessarily imply a defect of benevolence, even taking benevolence in the sense of a simple desire of causing the greatest possible amount of happiness. Because it is possible that the happiness resulting from a good use made of a state of trial by free beings, may, in the nature of it, be so much greater than what would result from any other method, as to make the sum of happiness so obtained, even when all the present incidental miseries have been deducted from it, larger than could be procured by providing against their contingency. Nor, even supposing that God’s not choosing to remove the sources of these eyils implied a defect of benevolence in the sense explained above, would it be certain that it implied a defect of benevolence as it is a real perfection. For supreme benevolence may not be a disposition simply to make heings happy, but to make good beings happy, — F.] 4 a oe * CHAP. II. | BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 169 We are unacquainted with :* or less happiness, it may be, would be produced by such a method of conduct, than is by the pre- sent: or, perhaps, Divine goodness, with which, if I mistake not, we make very free in our speculations, may not be a bare single disposition to produ¢e happiness; but a disposition to make the good, the faithful, the honest man happy. Perhaps an infinitely perfect Mind may be pleased, with seeing his crea- tures behave suitably to the nature which he has given them ; to the relations which he has placed them in to each other; and to that which they stand in to himself; that relation to himself, which, during their existence, is even necessary, and which is the most important one of all. Perhaps, I say, an infinitely perfect Mind may be pleased with this moral piety of moral agents, in and for itself, as well as upon account of its being essentially conducive to the happiness of his creation. Or the whole end, for which God made, and thus governs the world, may be utterly beyond the reach of our faculties: there may be somewhat in it as impossible for us to have any conception of, as for a blind man to have a conception of colours. But how- ever this be, it is certain matter of universal experience, that the general method of Divine administration is, forewarning us, or giving us capacities to foresee, with more or less clearness, that if we act so and so, we shall have such enjoyments, if so and so, such sufferings; and giving us those enjoyments, and making us feel those sufferings, in consequence of our actions. “ But all this is to be ascribed to the general course of na- ture.” True. This is the very thing which I am observing. It is to be ascribed to the general course of nature; that is, not surely to the words or ideas, course of nature, but to him who appointed it, and put things into it: or to a course of ope- ration, from its uniformity or constancy, called natural,} and which necessarily implies an operating agent. For when men find themselves necessitated to confess an Author of nature, or that God is the natural Governor of the world, they must not deny this again, because his government is uniform; they must not deny that he does all things at all, because he does them constantly; because the effects of his acting are permanent, whether his acting be so or not; though there is no reason to think it is not. In short, every man, in every thing he does, naturally acts upon the forethought and apprehension of avoid. * Chap. vii. 7 Pages 104, 105. 10 . 110 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [PART I. ing evil, or obtaining good: and if the natural course of things be the appointment of God, and our natural faculties of know- ledge and experience are given us by him, then the good and bad consequences which follow our actions are his appointment, and our foresight of those consequences is a warning given us by him, how we are to act. “Ts the pleasure then, naturally accompanying every par- ticular gratification of passion, intended to put us upon gratify- ing ourselves in every such particular instance, and as a reward to us for so doing?” No certainly. Nor is it to be said, that our eyes were naturally intended to give us the sight of each particular object to which they do or can extend; objects which are destructive of them, or which, for any other reason, it may become us to turn our eyes from. Yet there is no doubt, but that our eyes were intended for us to see with. So neither is there any doubt, but that. the foreseen pleasures and pains, belonging to the passions, were intended, in general, to induce mankind to act in such and such manners. Now from this general observation, obvious to every one, that God has given us to understand he has appointed satisfac- tion and delight to be the consequence of our acting in one manner, and pain and uneasiness of our acting in another, and of our not acting at all; and that we find the consequences, which we were beforehand informed of, uniformly to follow; we may learn, that we are at present actually under his govern- ment, in the strictest and most proper sense; in such a sense, as that he rewards and punishes us for our actions. An Author of Nature being supposed, it is not so much a deduction of reason as a matter of experience, that we are thus under his government; under his government, in the same sense as we are under the government of civil magistrates. Because the annexing pleasure to some actions, and pain to others, in our power to do or forbear, and giving notice of this appointment beforehand to those whom it concerns, is the proper formal notion of government. Whether the pleasure or pain which thus follows upon our behaviour, be owing to the Author of Nature’s acting upon us every moment which we feel it, or to his having at once contrived and executed his own part in the plan of the world, makes no alteration as to the matter before us. For if civil magistrates could make the sanctions of their laws take place, without interposing at all, after they had passed them ; without a trial, and the formalities of an execution: if 2” CHAP. II.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. Hi they were able to make their laws execute themselves, or every offender to execute them upon himself, we should be just in the same sense under their government then, as we are now; but in a much higher degree, and more perfect manner. Vain is the ridicule with which one sees some persons will divert them- selves, upon finding lesser pains considered as instances of divine punishment. There is no possibility of answering or evading the general thing here intended, without denying all final causes. For final causes being admitted, the pleasures and pains now mentioned must be admitted too, as instances of them. And if they are; if God annexes delight to some actions and uneasiness to others, with an apparent design to induce us to act so and so, then he not only dispenses happiness and misery, but also rewards and punishes actions. If, for example, the pain which we feel upon doing what tends to the destruction of our bodies, suppose upon too near approaches to fire, or upon wounding ourselves, be appointed by the Author of Nature to prevent our doing what thus tends to our destruc- tion; this is altogether as much an instance of his punishing our actions, and consequently of our being under his govern- ment, as declaring, by a voice from heaven, that if we acted so, he would inflict such pain upon us, and inflicting it whether it be greater or less. Thus we find, that the true notion or conception of the Author of Nature, is that of a master or governor, prior to the consideration of his moral attributes. The fact of our case, which we find by experience, is, that he actually exercises dominion or government over us at present, by rewarding and punishing us for our actions, in as strict and proper a sense of these words, and even in the same sense as children, servants, subjects, are rewarded and punished, by those who govern “them. And thus the whole analogy of nature, the whole present course of things, most fully shows, that there is nothing incre- dible in the general doctrine of religion, that God will reward and punish men for their actions hereafter; nothing incre- dible, I mean, arising out of the notion of rewarding and pun- ishing, for the whole course of nature is a present stance of his exercising that government over us, which implies in it rewarding and punishing. ; 3 112 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF .GoD [PART I. Burt, as divine punishment is what men chiefly object against, and are most unwilling to allow, it may be proper to mention some circumstances in the natural course of punishments at present, which are analogous to what religion teaches us con- cerning a future state of punishment: indeed, so analogous, that as they add a farther credibility to it, so they cannot but raise a most serious apprehension of it in those who will attend to them. It has been now observed, that such and such miseries natu- rally follow such and such actions of imprudence and wilful- hess, as well as actions more commonly and more distinctly considered as vicious; and that these consequences, when they may be foreseen, are properly natural punishments annexed to such actions. For the general thing here insisted upon is, not that we see a great deal of misery in the world, but a great _ deal which men bring upon themselves by their_own behaviour, ¢ which they might have foreseen and avoided. Now, the cir-_ cumstances of these natural punishments, particularly deserving our attention, are such as these: That oftentimes they follow, or are inflicted in consequence of actions which procure many present advantages, and are accompanied with much present pleasure ; for instance, sickness and untimely death is the con- sequence of intemperance, though accompanied with the highest mirth and jollity: That these punishments are often much greater than the advantages or pleasures obtained by the actions, of which they are the punishments or consequences : That though We may imagine a constitution of nature, in which these natural punishments, which are in fact to follow, would follow imme- diately upon such actions being done, or very soon after; we find, on the contrary, in our world, that they are often delayed a great while, sometimes even till long after the actions occa- sioning them are forgot; so that the constitution of nature is such, that delay of punishment is no sort nor degree of pre- sumption of final impunity: That after such delay, these natu- ral punishments or miseries often come, not by degrees, but suddenly, with violence, and at once—however, the chief misery often does: That as certainty of such distant misery following such actions is never afforded persons, so perhaps during the actions, they have seldom a distinct full expectation of its following :* and many times the case is only thusy that en ans e * See Part ii. chap. 6. CHAP. IIl.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 113 they see in general, or may see, the credibility, that intemper- ance, suppose, will bring after it diseases; civil crimes, civil punishments; when yet the real probability often is, that they shall escape: but things notwithstanding take their destined course, and the misery inevitably follows at its appointed time, in very many of these cases. Thus also though youth may be alleged as an excuse for rashness and folly, as being natu- rally thoughtless, and not clearly foreseeing all the conse- quences of being untractable and profligate; this does not hinder but that these consequences follow, and are grievously felt, throughout the whole course of mature life. Habits con- tracted, even in that age, are often utter ruin: and men’s suc- cess in the world, not only in the common sense of worldly success, but their real happiness and misery, depends in a great degree, and in various ways, upon the manner in which they pass their youth; which consequences they, for the most part, neglect to consider, and perhaps seldom can properly be said to believe beforehand. It requires also to be mentioned, that, in numberless cases, the natural course of things affords us opportunities for procuring advantages to ourselves at certain times, which we cannot procure when we will; nor ever recall the opportunities, if we have neglected them. Indeed, the general course of nature is an example of this. If, during the opportunity of youth, persons are indocile and self-willed, they inevitably suffer in their future life, for want of those acquire- ments which they neglected the natural season of attaining. if the husbandman lets his seed-time pass without sowing, the whole year is lost to him beyond recovery. In like manner, though after men have been guilty of folly and extravagance, up toa certain degree, it is often in their power, for instance, to retrieve their affairs, to recover their health and character, at least in good measure; yet real reformation is, in many eases, of no avail at all towards preventing the miseries, poverty, sickness, infamy, naturally annexed to folly and extra- vagance, exceeding that degree. here is a certain bound to imprudence and misbehaviour, which being transgressed, there remains no place for repentance in the natural course of things. It is, further, very much to be remarked, that neglects from inconsiderateness, want of attention,* not looking about us to see what we have to do, are often attended with consequences # Part ui. chap. 6. 10* 114 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [PART I. altogether as dreadful as any active misbehaviour, from the most extravagant passion. And lastly, civil government being natural, the punishments of it are so too; and some of these punishments are capital, as the effects of a dissolute course of pleasure are often mortal. So that many natural punishments are final* to him who incurs them, if considered only in his temporal capa- ity; and seem inflicted by natural appointment, either to remove the offender out of the way of being further mischievous, or as an example, though frequently a disregarded one, to those who are left behind. These things are not what we call accidental, or to be met wita only now and then; but they are things of every day’s ex- perience; they proceed from general laws, very general ones, by which God governs the world, in the natural ‘course of his pro- vidence. And they are so analogous to what religion teaches us concerning the future punishment of the wicked, so much of a piece with it, that both would naturally be expressed in the very same words anc manner of description. In the book of Proverbs, for instance, Wisdom is introduced as frequenting the most public places of resort, and as rejected when she offers herself as the natural appointed guide of human life. “How long,” speaking to those who are passing through it, “how long, ye simple ones, will ye love folly, and the scorners delight in * The general consideration of a future state of punishment most evidently belongs to the subject of natural religion. But if any of these reflections should be thought to relate more peculiarly to this doctrine as taught in Scripture; the reader is desired to observe, that Gentile writers, both moralists and poets, speak of the future punish- ment of the wicked, both as to the duration and degree of it, in alike manner of expression and description, as the Scripture does. So that all which can positively be asserted to be matter of mere revelation, with regard to this doctrine, seems to be, that the great distinction between the righteous and the wicked, shall be made at the end of this world; that each shall then receive according to his deserts. Rea- son did, as it well might, conclude that it should, finally and upon the whole, be well with the righteous, and ill with the wicked: but it could not be determined, upon any principles of reason, whether human creatures might not have been appointed to pass through other states of life and being, before that distributive justice should, finally and effectually, take place. Revelation teaches us, that the next state of things after the present, is appointed for the execution of this jus- tice; that it shall be no longer delayed: but the mystery of God, the great mystery of his suffering vice and confusion to prevail, shall then be finished; and he will take to him his great power and will reign, by rendering to every one accerding to his works. CHAP. II.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 115 their scorning, and fools hate knowledge? Turn ye at my re- proof. Behold I will pour out my Spirit upon you, I will make known my words unto you.’? But upon being neglected, “ Be- cause I have called, and ye refused, I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: £ also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh ; when your fear cometh as a desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer ; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me.’ This passage, every one sees, is poetical, and some parts of it are highly figurative ; but their meaning is obvious. And the thing intended is expressed more literally in the following words: “For that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord ; therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices. For the security of the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them.” And the whole passage is so equally applicable to what we experience in the present world, concerning the consequences of men’s actions, and to what religion teaches us is to be expected in another, that it may be questioned which of the two was principally in- tended. . Indeed, when one has been recollecting the proper proofs of a future state of rewards and punishments, nothing methinks can give one so sensible an apprehension of the latter, or repre- sentation of it to the mind, as observing, that after the many disregarded checks, admonitions and warnings, which people meet with in the ways of vice, and folly, and extravagance ; warnings from their very nature; from the examples of others ; from the lesser inconveniences which they bring upon them- selves; from the instructions of wise and virtuous men; after these have been long despised, scorned, ridiculed; after the chief bad consequences, temporal consequences, of their follies, have been delayed for a great while; at length they break in irre- sistibly, like an armed force; repentance is too late to relieve, and can serve only to aggravate their distress: the case is be- come desperate ; and poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, infamy and death, the effects of their own doings, overwhelm them beyond possibility of remedy or escape. ‘This is an ac- count of what is in fact the general constitution of nature. It is not in any sort meant, that according to what appears at . 116 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. [PART f. present of the natural course of things, men are always uni- formly punished in proportion to their misbehaviour; but that there are very many instances of misbehaviour punished in the ways now mentioned, and very dreadful instances too, sufficient to show what the laws of the universe may admit; and if thoroughly considered, sufficient fully to answer all objections against the credibility of a future state of punishments, from any imaginations, that the frailty of our nature and external temptations almost annihilate the guilt of human vices: as well as objections of another sort; from necessity ; from suppositions that the will of an infinite Being cannot be contradicted ; or that he must be incapable of offence and provocation.* Reflections of this kind are not without their terrors to serious persons, the most free from enthusiasm, and of the greatest strength of mind; but it is fit things be stated and considered as they really are. And there is, in the present age, a certain fearlessness with regard to what may be hereafter under the government of God, which nothing but an universally acknow- ledged demonstration on the side of atheism can justify, and which makes it quite necessary that man be reminded, and if possible, made to feel, that there is no sort of ground for being thus presumptuous, even upon the most sceptical principles. For, may it not be said of any person, upon his being born into the world, he may behave so as to be of no service to it, but by being made an example of the woful effects of vice and folly ; that he may, as any one may, if he will, incur an infamous execution from the hands of civil justice; or in some other course of extravagance shorten his days; or bring upon himself infamy and diseases worse than death? So that it had been better for him, even with regard to the present world, that he had never been born. And is there any pretence of reason for people to think themselves secure, and talk as if they had cer- tain proof, that let them act as licentiously as they will, there can be nothing analogous to this, with regard to a future and more general interest, under the providence and government of the same God ? * See Chap. iv. and vi. CHAP. TII.] MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 117 CHAP THI. Of the Moral Government of God.* As the manifold appearances of design, and of final causes, in the constitution of the world, prove it to be the work of an intelligent Mind, so the particular final causes of pleasure and pain, distributed amongst his creatures, prove that they are under his government—what may be called, his natural govern- ment of creatures endued with sense and reason. This, how- ever, implies somewhat more than seems usually attended to, when we speak of God’s natural government of the world. It implies government of the very same kind with that which a master exercises over his servants, or a civil magistrate over his subjects. These latter instances of final causes as really prove an intelligent Governor of the world, in the sense now mentioned, and before} distinctly treated of, as any other in- stances of final causes prove an intelligent Maker of it. But this alone does not appear, at first sight, to determine any thing certainly, concerning the moral character of the Author of Nature, considered in this relation of governor; does not ascertain his government to be moral, or prove that * [The subject of the present chapter is as distinct from that of the former, as the generic idea of a government is distinct from the more particular idea of it as possessed of a certain character, or as being of a certain kind and species. If certain actions are followed up by pleasure and others by pain, and these are known beforehand, so that the agent can foresee the consequence of his doings, even as he would have done if under a proclaimed law, which told at the same time of its own rewards and its own penalties, these are enough of them- selves to constitute a government having its regulations which are known, and its sanctions which are executed. So much for govern- ment in the general; but should it be found among these general phenomena, that those actions which are righteous were followed up by pleasure, and those actions which are wicked were followed up by pain, this would present us with a moral government enveloped, as it were, in the general and natural; and it is to the manifestations of such a government in the course and constitution of nature that the author now addresses his observations.— Chalmers. ] — + Chap. 2. 118 OF THE MORAL [PART I. he is the righteous Judge of the world. Moral government consists, not barely in rewarding and punishing men for their actions, which the most tyrannical person may do; but in re- warding the righteous, and punishing the wicked; in rendering to men according to their actions, considered as good or evil. And the perfection of moral government consists in doing this, with regard to all intelligent creatures, in an exact proportion to their personal merits or demerits. Some men seem to think the only character of the Author of Nature to be that of simple absolute benevolence. This, considered as a principle of action, and infinite in degree, is a disposition to produce the greatest possible happiness, without regard to persons’ behaviour, otherwise than as such regard would produce higher degrees of it. And supposing this to be the only character of God, veracity and justice in him would be nothing but benevolence conducted by wisdom. Now surely this ought not to be asserted, unless it can be proved; for we should speak with cautious reverence upon such a subject. And whether it can be proved or not, is not the thing here to be in- quired into; but whether, in the constitution and conduct of the world, a righteous government be not discernibly planned out; which necessarily implies a righteous governor. There may possibly be in the creation, beings to whom the Author of Nature manifests himself under this most amiable of all charac- ters, this of infinite absolute benevolence; for it is the most amiable, supposing it not, as perhaps it is not, incompatible - with justice: but he manifests himself to us under the cha- racter of a righteous governor. He may, consistently with this, be simply and absolutely benevolent, in the sense now explain- ed; but he is, for he has given us a proof in the constitution and conduct of the world, that he is a governor over servants, as he rewards and punishes us for our actions. And in the constitution and conduct of it, he may also have given, besides the reason of the thing, and the natural presages of conscience, clear and distinct intimations that his government is righteous or moral—clear to such as think the nature of it deserving their attention; and yet not to every careless person who casts a transient reflection upon the subject.* * The objections against religion, from the evidence of it not being universal, nor so strong as might possibly haye been, may be urged against natural religion, as well as against revealed. And therefore the consideration of them belongs to the first part of this Treatise, CHAP. III. | GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 119 But it is particularly to be observed, that the divine govern- ment, which we experience ourselves under in the present state, taken alone, is allowed not to be the perfection of moral govern- ment.“ And yet this by no means hinders, but that there may be somewhat, be it more or less, truly moral in it. A righteous government may plainly appear to be carried on to some de- gree ; enough to give us the apprehension that it shall be com- pleted, or carried on to that degree of perfection which religion teaches us it shall; but which cannot appear, till much more of the divine administration be seen, than can in the present life. And the design of this chapter is to inquire, how far this is the case; how far, over and above the moral nature} which God has given us, and our natural notion of him, as righteous governor of those his creatures to whom he has given this na- ture ;{ I say how far, besides this, the principles and beginnings of a moral government over the world may be discerned, not- withstanding and amidst all the confusion and disorder of it. Now, one might mention here, what has been often urged with great force, that, in general, less uneasiness, and more satisfaction, are the natural consequences§ of a virtuous than of a vicious course of life, in the present state, as an instance of a as well as the second. But as these objections are chiefly urged against revealed religion, I chose to consider them in the second Part. And the answer to them there, chap. vi. as urged against Christianity, being almost equally applicable to them as urged against the Religion of Nature, to avoid repetition, the reader is referred to that chapter. * [Butler seems here to indicate the distinction between religious and irreligious optimism. Irreligious optimism considers the present state of things as absolutely the best. Religious optimism considers it as imperfect in itself, but necessary for bringing about that state which is absolutely the best possible. But this best possible must, as Bishop Hamilton (On the Attributes, p. 189), has very truly remark- ed, be understood with reference to such beings as men; not to mean the best possible scheme of created things, because no such scheme can be conceived. The difference between finite and infinite perfec- tion must always be infinite, so that, however excellent we may sup- pose any one scheme of created things, there will still remain the possibility of another more perfect in infinitum. See on the general subject of the two schemes of optimism, Warburton’s Reply to Cronsaz Criticism on Pope; and Johnson’s Review of Jenyn’s Essay upon the Origin of Evil. F.] { Dissertation 2. } Chap. 6. 2 See Lord Shaftesbury’s Inquiry concerning Virtue, Part 2. 120 OF THE MORAL [PART I. moral government established in nature ; an instance of it, col- lected from experience and present matter of fact. But it must be owned a thing of difficulty to weigh and balance pleasures and uneasinesses, each amongst themselves, and also against each other, so as to make an estimate with any exactness, of the overplus of happiness on the side of virtue. And it is not im- possible that, amidst the infinite disorders of the world, there may be exceptions to the happiness of virtue, even with regard to those persons whose course of life, from their youth up, has been blameless; and more with regard to those who have gone on for some time in the ways of vice, and have afterwards re- formed. For suppose an instance of the latter case; a person with his passions inflamed, his natural faculties of self-goyern- ment impaired by habits of indulgence, and with all his vices about him, like so many harpies, craving for their accustomed gratification, — who can say, how long it might be before such a person would find more satisfaction in the reasonableness and present good consequences of virtue, than difficulties and self- denial in the restraints of it? Experience also shows, that men can, to a great degree, get over their sense of shame, so as that by professing themselves to be without principle, and avowing even direct villany, they can support themselves against the in- famy of it. But as the ill actions of any one will probably be more talked of, and oftener thrown in his way, upon his refor- mation; so the infamy of them will be much more felt, after the natural sense of virtue and of honour is recovered. Uneasi- ness of this kind ought indeed to be put to the account of former vices; yet it will be said, they are in part the consequences of reformation. Still I am far from allowing it doubtful whether virtue, upon the whole, be happier than vice in the present world: but if it were, yet the beginnings of a righteous admin- istration may, beyond all question, be found in nature, if we will attentively inquire after them. And, I. In whatever manner the notion of God’s moral government over the world might be treated, if it did not appear whether he were, in a proper sense, our governor at all; yet when it is cer- tain matter of experience, that he does manifest himself to us under the character of a goyernor, in the sense explained,* it must deserve to be considered, whether there be not reason to apprehend that he may be arighteous or moral governor. Since * Chap. 2. CHAP. I11.] GOVERNMENT OF GoD. 121 it appears to be fact, that God does govern mankind by the method of rewards and punishments, according to some settled rules of distribution, it is surely a question to be asked, What presumption is there against his finally rewarding and punishing them according to this particular rule, namely, as they act rea- sonably or unreasonably, virtuously or viciously? since rendering man happy or miserable by this rule, certainly falls in, much more falls in, with our natural apprehensions and sense of thin gS, than doing so by any other rule whatever; since rewarding and punishing actions by any other rule would appear much harder to be accounted for by minds formed as he has formed ours. Be the evidence of religion then more or less clear, the expectation which it raises in us, that the righteous shall, upon the whole, be happy, and the wicked miserable, cannot, however, possibly be considered as absurd or chimerical; because it is no more than an expectation, that a method of government already be- gun, shall be carried on, the method of rewarding and punishing actions; and shall be carried on by a particular rule, which un- avoidably appears to us, at first sight, more natural than any other, the rule which we call distributive justice. Nor, II. Ought it to be entirely passed over, that tranquillity, satisfaction and external advantages, being the natural conse- quences of prudent management of ourselves and our affairs; and rashness, profligate negligence, and wilful folly, bringing after them many inconveniences and sufferings; these afford instances of a right constitution of nature: as the correction of children for their own sakes, and by way of example, when they run into danger or hurt themselves, is a part of right education. And thus, that God governs the world by general fixed laws ; that he has endued us with capacities of reflecting upon this constitution of things, and foreseeing the good and bad conse- quences of our behaviour, plainly implies some sort of moral government: since from such a constitution of things, it cannot but follow, that prudence and imprudence, which are of the nature of virtue and vice,* must be, as they are, respectively rewarded and punished. . Til. From the natural course of things, vicious actions are, to a great degree, actually punished as mischievous to society ; and besides punishment actually inflicted upon this account, there is also the fear and apprehension of it in those persons = * See Dissertation IT. cael peed 122 OF THE MORAL [PART I. whose crimes have rendered them obnoxious to it, in case of a discovery; this state of fear being itself often a very considera- ble punishment. ‘I'he natural fear and apprehension of it too, which restrains from such crimes, is a declaration of nature against them. It is necessary to the very being of society, that vices destructive of it should be punished as being so; the vices of falsehood, injustice, cruelty: which punishment therefore is as natural as society, and so is an instance of a kind of moral government, naturally established, and actually taking place. And since the certain natural course of things is the conduct of providence, or the government of God, though carried on by the instrumentality of men, the observation here made amounts to this, that mankind find themselves placed by him in such cir- cumstances, as that they are unavoidably accountable for their behaviour, and are often punished, and sometimes rewarded, under his government, in the view of their being mischievous or eminently beneficial to society. If it be objected, that good actions, and such as are beneficial to society, are often punished, as in the case of persecution, and in other cases, and that ill and mischievous actions are often re- warded; it may be answered distinctly, first, that this 1s in no sort necessary, and consequently not natural in the sense in which it is necessary, and therefore natural, that ill or mischievous actions should be punished; and in the next place, that good actions are never punished, considered as beneficial to society, nor ill actions rewarded, under the view of their being hurtful to it.* So that it stands good, without any thing on the side of vice to be set over against it, that the Author of Nature has as truly directed that vicious actions, considered as mischievous to society, should be punished, and put mankind under a necessity of thus punishing them, as he has directed and necessitated us to preserve our lives by food. VI. In the natural course of things, virtue, as such, is actu- ally rewarded, and vice, as such, punished; which seems to afford an instance, or example, not only of government, but of moral government begun and established ; moral in the strictest sense, though not in that perfection of degree which religion teaches us to expect. In order to see this more clearly, we *[ These vicious actions are never rewarded because they are vicious, but though they are vicious; and virtuous actions are sometimes pun- ished, yet never as virtuous, or never because virtuous, but though virtuous.— Chalmers. ] —_ *. CHAP. 111. | GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 123 must distinguish between actions themselves, and that quality ascribed to them, which we call virtuous or vicious. The gratification itself of every natural passion must be attended with delight; and acquisitions of fortune, however made, are acquisitions of the means or materials of enjoyment. An action, then, by which any natural passion is gratified, or fortune ac- quired, procures delight or advantage, abstracted from all con- sideration of the morality of such action. Consequently, the pleasure or advantage in this case, is gained by the action itself, not by the morality, the virtuousness or viciousness of it, though it be, perhaps, virtuous or vicious. Thus, to say such an action or course *f behaviour, procured such pleasure or advantage, or brought on such inconvenience and pain, is quite a different thing from saying that such good or bad effect was owing to the virtue or vice of such action or behaviour. In one case, an action, abstracted from all moral consideration, produced its effect ; in the other case, for it will appear that there are such cases, the morality of the action, the action under a moral con- sideration, that is, the virtuousness or viciousness of it, produced the effect. Now I say virtue, as such, naturally procures con- siderable advantages to the virtuous; and vice, as such, natural- ly occasions great inconyenience, and even misery, to the vicious, in very many instances. The immediate effects of virtue and vice upon the mind and temper, are to be mentioned as instances of it. Vice, as such, is naturally attended with some sort of uneasiness, and not uncommonly with great disturbance and apprehension. hat inward feeling, which, respecting lesser matters and in familiar speech, we call being vexed with one’s self, and in matters of importance, and in more serious language, remorse, is an uneasiness naturally arising from an action of a man’s own, reflected upon by himself as wrong, unreasonable, faulty, 1. e. vicious in greater or less degrees; and this mani- festly is a different feeling from that uneasiness which arises from a sense of mere loss or harm. What is more common than to hear a man lamenting an accident or event, and add- ing—But however he has the satisfaction that he cannot blame himself for it; or on the contrary, that he has the uneasiness of being sensible it was his own doing? ‘Thus also, the dis- turbance and fear which often follow upon a man’s having done an injury, arise from a sense of his being blame-worthy ; otherwise there would, in many cases, be no ground of disturb- ance, nor any reason to fear resentment or shame. On the other 124 OF THE MORAL [PART LI. hand, inward security and peace, and a mind open to the several gratifications of life, are the natural attendants of innocence and virtue ; to which must be added, the complacency, satisfaction, and even joy of heart, which accompany the exercise, the real exercise of gratitude, friendship, benevolence. And here, I think, ought to be mentioned, the fears of future punishment, and peaceful hopes of a better life, in those who fully believe or have any serious apprehension of religion; be- cause these hopes and fears are present uneasiness and satisfac- tion to the mind, and cannot be got rid of by great part of the world, even by men who have thought most thoroughly upon that subject of religion. And no one can say how considerable this uneasiness and satisfaction may be, or what, upon the whole, it may amount to. In the next place comes in the consideration, that all honest and good men are disposed to befriend honest and good men, as such, and to discountenance the vicious, as such, and do so in some degree, indeed, in a considerable degree; from which favour and discouragement cannot but arise considerable advan- tage and inconvenience. And though the generality of the world have little regard to the morality of their own actions, and may be supposed to have less to that of others, when they themselves are not concerned; yet, let any one be known to be a man of virtue, somehow or other he will be favoured, and good offices will be done him from regard to his character, with- out remote views, occasionally, and in some low degree, I think, by the generality of the world, as it happens to come in their way. Public honours too and advantages are the natural con- sequences, are sometimes at least the consequences in fact, of virtuous actions, of eminent justice, fidelity, charity, love to our country, considered in the view of being virtuous. And some- times even death itself, often infamy and external imconve- niences, are the public consequences of vice, as vice. or in- stance, the sense which mankind have of tyranny, injustice, oppression, additional to the mere feeling or fear of misery, has doubtless been instrumental in bringing about revolutions, which make a figure even in the history of the world. For it is plain, men resent injuries as implying faultiness, and retaliate, not merely under the notion of having received harm, but of having received wrong; and they have this resentment in behalf of others, as well as of themselves. So, likewise, even the gene- rality are, in some degree, grateful and disposed to return good CHAP. III. ] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 125 offices, not merely because such a one has been the occasion of good to them, but under the view that such good offices implied kind intention and good desert in the doer. ‘To all this may be added two or three particular things, which many persons will think frivolous: but to me nothing appears so, which at all comes in towards determining a question of such importance, as whether there be or be nota moral institution of government, in the strictest sense moral, visibly established and begun in nature. The particular things are these: that, in domestic government, which is doubtless natural, children and others also are very generally punished for falsehood and injustice and ill behaviour, as such, and rewarded for the contrary; which are instances where veracity, and justice, and right be- haviour, as such, are naturally enforced by rewards and punish- ments, whether more or less considerable in degree: that though civil government be supposed to take cognizance of actions in no other view than as prejudicial to society, without respect to the immorality of them, yet as such actions are im- moral, so the sense which men have of the immorality of them very greatly contributes, in different ways, to bring offenders to justice ; and that entire absence of all crime and guilt, in the moral sense, when plainly appearing, will almost of course pro- cure, and circumstances of aggravated guilt prevent, a remission of the penalties annexed to civil crimes, in many cases, though by no means in all. Upon the whole, then, besides the good and bad effects of virtue and vice upon men’s own minds, the course of the world does, in some measure, turn upon the approbation and disap- probation of them, as such, in others. The sense of well and ili-doing, the presages of conscience, the love of good characters and dislike of bad ones, honour, shame, resentment, gratitude ; ail these, considered in themselves, and in their effects, do afford manifest real instances of virtue, as such, naturally favoured, and of vice, as such, discountenanced, more or less, in the daily course of human life; in every age, in every relation, in every general circumstance of it. That God has given us a moral nature,* may most justly be urged as a proof of our being under his moral government; but that he has placed us in a condition, which gives this nature, as one may speak, scope to operate, and in which it does unavoidably operate, that is, influence * See Dissertation II. da* 126 OF THE MORAL [PART T. mankind to act, so as thus to favour and reward virtue, and discountenance and punish vice; this is not the same, but a further additional proof of his moral government; for it is an instance of it. The first is a proof, that he will finally favour and support virtue effectually ; the second is an example of his favouring and supporting it at present, in some degree. If a more distinct inquiry be made, whence it arises, that virtue, as such, is often rewarded, and vice, as such, is punished, and this rule never inverted; it will be found to proceed, in part, immediately from the moral nature itself which God has given us; and also, in part, from his having given us, together with this nature, so great a power over each other’s happiness and misery. For, first, it is certain that peace and delight, in some degree and upon some occasions, is the necessary and pre- sent effect of virtuous practice; an effect arising immediately from that constitution of our nature. We are so made, that well-doing, as such, gives us satisfaction, at least, in some instances ; ill-doing, as such, in none. And, secondly, from our moral nature, joined with God’s having put our happiness and misery in many respects in each other’s power, it cannot but be that vice, as such, some kinds and instances of it at least, will be infamous, and men will be disposed to punish it as In itself detestable ; and the villain will by no means be able always to avoid feeling that infamy, any more than he will be able to escape this further punishment which mankind will be disposed to inflict upon him, under the notion of his deserving it. But there can be nothing on the side of vice to answer this; because there is nothing in the human mind contra- dictory, as the logicians speak, to virtue. For virtue consists in a regard to what is right and reasonable, as being so; in a regard to veracity, justice, charity, in themselves: and there is surely no such thing as a like natural regard to falsehood, injustice, cruelty. If it be thought, that there are instances of an approbation of vice, as such, in itself, and for its own sake (though it does not appear to me that there is any such thing at all; but supposing there be), it is evidently monstrous; as much so as the most acknowledged perversion of any passion Whatever. Such instances of perversion, then, being left out as merely imaginary, or, however, unnatural; it must follow, from the frame of our nature, and from our condition, in the respects now described, that vice cannot at all be, and virtue cannot but be, favoured, as such, by others, upon some occa- CHAP. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 127 sions, and happy in itself, in some degree. For what is here insisted upon, is not the degree in which virtue and vice are thus distinguished; but only the thing itself, that they are so in some degree; though the whole good and bad effect of virtue and vice, as such, is not inconsiderable in degree. But that they must be thus distinguished, in some degree, is in a manner necessary ; it is matter of fact of daily experience, even in the greatest confusion of human affairs. | It is not pretended but that, in the natural course of things, happiness and misery appear to be distributed by other rules, than only the personal merit and demerit of characters. They may sometimes be distributed by way of mere discipline. There may be the wisest and best reasons why the world should be governed by general laws, from whence such promiscuous dis- tribution perhaps must follow ; and also why our happiness and misery should be put in each other’s power, in the degree which they are. And these things, as in general they contribute to the rewarding virtue and punishing vice, as such; so they often contribute also, not to the inversion of this, which is impossible, but to the rendering persons prosperous though wicked, afflicted though righteous; and, which is worse, to the rewarding some actions, though vicious, and punishing other actions, though virtuous. But all this cannot drown the voice of nature in the. conduct of Providence, plainly declaring itself for virtue, by way of distinction from vice, and preference to it. For, our being so constituted as that virtue and vice are thus naturally favoured and discountenanced, rewarded and punished respec- tively as such, is an intuitive proof of the intent of nature that it should be so;. otherwise the constitution of our mind, from which it thus immediately and directly proceeds, would be ab- surd. But it cannot be said, because virtuous actions are some- times punished, and vicious actions rewarded, that nature intended it. For, though this great disorder is brought about, as all actions are done, by means of some natural passion, yet this may be, as it undoubtedly is, brought about by the perver- sion of such passion, implanted in us for other, and those very good purposes. And indeed these other and good purposes, even of every passion, may be clearly seen. We have then a declaration, in some degree of present effect, from him who is supreme in nature, which side he is of, or what part he takes; a declaration for virtue and against vice. So far, therefore, as a man is true to virtue, to veracity and 128 OF THE MORAL [PART I. justice, to equity and charity, and the right of the case, in whatever he is concerned, so far he is on the side of the divine administration, and co-operates with it; and from hence, to such a man, arises naturally a secret satisfaction and sense of security, and implicit hope of somewhat further. And, V. This hope is confirmed by the necessary tendencies of virtue, which, though not of present effect, yet are at present discernible in nature; and so afford an instance of somewhat moral in the essential constitution of it. There is, in the nature of things, a tendency in virtue and vice to produce. the good and bad effects now mentioned, in a greater degree than they do in fact produce them. For instance, good and bad men would be much more rewarded and punished as such, were it not that justice is often artificially eluded, that characters are not known, and many who would thus favour virtue and dis- courage vice, are hindered from doing so by aecidental causes. These tendencies of virtue and vice are obvious with regard to individuals. But it may require more particularly to be con- sidered, that power in a society, by being under the direction of virtue, naturally increases, and has a necessary tendency to prevail over opposite power, not under the direction of it ; i like manner as power, by being under the direction of reason, increases, and has a tendency to prevail over brute force. There are several brute creatures of equal, and several of supe- rior strength to that of men; and possibly the sum of the whole strength of brutes may be greater than that of mankind: but reason gives us the advantage and superiority over them, and thus man is the acknowledged governing animal upon the earth, Nor is this superiority considered by any as accidental ; but as what reason has a tendency, in the nature of the thing, to obtain. And yet, perhaps, difficulties may be raised about the meaning, as well as the truth of the assertion, that virtue has the like tendency. Lo obviate these difficulties, let us see more distinctly how the case stands with regard to reason, which is so readily ac- knowledged to have this advantageous tendency. Suppose then, two or three men, of the best and most improved understand- ing, in a desolate open plain, attacked by ten times the number of beasts of prey; would their reason secure them the victory in this unequal combat? Power then, though joined with rea- son, and under its direction, cannot be expected to prevail over opposite power, though merely brutal, unless the one bears some -_ «ada CHAP. III. ] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 129 proportion to the other. Again, put the imaginary case, that rational and irrational creatures were of a like external shape and manner; it is certain, before there were opportunities for the first to distinguish each other, to separate from their adver- saries, and to form an union among themselves, they might be upon a level, or in several respects, upon great disadvantage, though united they might be vastly superior; since union is of such efficacy, that ten men, united, might be able to accomplish what ten thousand of the same natural strength and understand- ing, wholly ununited, could not. In this case then, brute force might more than maintain its ground against reason, for want of union among the rational creatures.. Or suppose a number of men to land upon an island inhabited only by wild beasts; a number of men, who by the regulations of civil government, the inventions of art, and the experience of some years, could they be preserved so long, would be really sufficient to subdue the wild beasts, and to preserve themselves in security from them; yet a conjuncture of accidents might give such advan- tage to the irrational animals, as that they might at once over- power, and even extirpate, the whole species of rational ones. Length of time then, proper scope and opportunities for reason to exert itself, may be absolutely necessary to its prevailing over brute force. Further still: there are many instances of brutes succeeding in attempts, which they could not have under- taken, had not their irrational nature rendered them incapable of foreseeing the danger of such attempts, or the fury of passion hindered their attending to it; and there are instances of reason and real prudence preventing men’s undertaking what, it hath appeared afterwards, they might have succeeded in by a lucky rashness. And in certain conjunctures, ignorance and folly, weakness and discord, may have their advantages. So that ra- tional animals have not necessarily the superiority over irrational ones; but how improbable soever it may be, it is evidently pos- sible, that, in some globes, the latter may be superior. And were the former wholly at variance and disunited, by false self- interest and envy, by treachery and injustice, and consequent rage and malice against each other, whilst. the latter were firmly united among themselves by instinct, this might greatly con- tribute to the introducing such an inverted order of things. Tor every one would consider it as inverted ; since reason has, in the nature of it, a tendency to prevail over brute force, notwith- standing the possibility it may not prevail, and the necessity 130 OF THE MORAL [PART 4 which there is of many concurrent circumstances to render it prevalent. Now I say, virtue in a society has a like tendency to procure superiority and additional power, whether this power be con- sidered as the means of security from opposite power, or of obtaining other advantages. And it has this tendency, by ren- dering public good an object and end to every member of the society: by putting every one upon consideration and diligence, recollection and self-government, both in order to see what is the most effectual method, and also in order to perform their proper part, for obtaining and preserving it; by uniting a society within itself, and so increasing its strength, and, which is parti- cularly to be mentioned, uniting it by means of veracity and justice. For as these last are principal bonds of union, so be- nevolence, or public spirit, undirected, unrestrained by them, is — nobody knows what. And suppose the invisible world, and the invisible dispensa- tions of Providence, to be in any sort analogous to what appears ; or that both together make up one uniform scheme, the two parts of which, the part which we see, and that which is beyond our observation, are analogous to each other; then there must be a like natural tendency in the derived power, throughout the universe, under the direction of virtue, to prevail in general over that which is not under its direction; as there is in reason, de- rived reason in the universe, to prevail over brute force. But then, in order to the prevalence of virtue, or that it may actu- ally produce what it has a tendency to produce, the like concur- rences are necessary as are to the prevalence of reason. There must be some proportion between the natural power or force which is, and that which is not, under the direction of virtue : there must be sufficient length of time; for the complete suc- cess of virtue, as of reason, cannot, from the nature of the thing, be otherwise than gradual: there must be, as one may speak, a fair field of trial, a stage large and extensive enough, proper occasions and opportunities for the virtuous to join together, to exert themselves against lawless force, and to reap the fruit of their united labours. Now indeed it is to be hoped, that the disproportion between the good and the bad, even here on earth, is not so great, but that the former have natural power sufficient to their prevailing to a considerable degree, if circumstances would permit this power to be united. For much less, very much less power, under the direction of virtue, would prevail CHAP. IT. ] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 131 over much greater, not under the direction of it. However, good men over the face of the earth cannot unite; as for other reasons, so because they cannot be sufficiently ascertained of each other’s characters. And the known course of human things, the scene we are now passing through, particularly the shortness of life, denies to virtue its full scope in several other respects. The natural tendency which we have been considering, though veal, is hindered from being carried into effect in the present state, but these hinderances may be removed in a future one. Virtue, to borrow the Christian allusion, is militant here, and va- rious untoward accidents contribute to its being often overborne : but it may combat with greater advantage hereatter, and prevail completely, and enjoy its consequent rewards in some future states.* Neglected as it is, perhaps unknown, perhaps despised and oppressed here, there may be scenes Im eternity, lasting enough, and in every other way adapted to afford it a sufficient sphere of action, and a sufficient sphere for the natural conse- quences of it to foliow in fact. If the soul be naturally im- mortal, and this state be a progress towards a future one, as childhood is towards mature age, good men may naturally unite, not only amongst themselves, but also with other orders. of vir- tuous creatures in that future state.. For virtue, from the very nature of it, isa principle and bond of union, in some degree, amongst all who are endued with it, and known to each other ; so as that by ita good man cannot but recommend himself to the favour and protection of all virtuous beings throughout the whole universe, who can be acquainted with his character, and can any way interpose in his behalf in any part of his duration. And one might add, that suppose all this advantageous tendency of virtue to become effect amongst one or more orders of crea- tures, in any distant scenes and periods, and to be seen by any orders of vicious creatures, throughout the universal kingdom of God; this happy effect of virtue would have a tendency, by way of example, and possibly in other ways, to amend those of them who are capable of amendment, and being recovered to a just sense of virtue. If our notions of the plan of Providence pee ee ee Bi 2 = * [This is an instance of Butler’s care to avoid assuming more than his premises will warrant. He is arguing here on the foot of reason alone; and, as he had before observed that mere reason could not show that probation would terminate with this life, so he speaks here of the supposition (consistent with such a state of knowledge) of its passing through some state or states of militancy hereafter.—F. ] 152 OF THE MORAL Wy [PART 1 were enlarged, in any sort proportionable to what late discoveries have enlarged our views with respect to the material world, representations of this kind would not appear absurd.or extra- vagant. However, they are not to be taken as intended for a literal delineation of what is in fact the particular scheme of the universe, which cannot be known without revelation; for suppositions are not to be looked on as true, because not incredi- ble, but they are mentioned to show, that our finding virtue to he hindered from procuring to itself such superiority and advan- tages, is no objection against its having, in the essential nature of the thing, a tendency to procure them. And the supposi- tions now mentioned do plainly show this: for they show, that these hinderances are so far from. being necessary, that we our- selves can easily conceive how they may be removed in future states, and full scope be granted to virtue. And all these ad- vantageous tendencies of it are to be considered as declarations of God in its favour. This however is taking a pretty large compass; though it is certain, that as the material world ap- pears to be, in a manner, boundless and immense, there*must be some scheme of Providence vast in proportion to it. y But let us return to the earth our habitation, and we: shall see this happy tendency of virtue, by imagining an instance, not so vast and remote; by supposing a kingdom or society of men upon it, perfectly virtuous, for a succession of many ages; to which, if you please, may be given a situation advantageous for universal monarchy. In such a state there would be no such thing as faction, but men of the greatest capacity would, of course, all along, have the chief direction of affairs willingly yielded to them, and they would share it among themselves without envy. Mach of these would have the part assigned him to which his genius was peculiarly adapted; and others, who had not any distinguished genius, would be safe, and think themselves very happy, by being under the protection and guidance of those who had. Public determinations would really be the result of the united wisdom of the community, and they would faithfully be executed by the united strength of it. Some would in a higher way contribute, but all would in some way contribute to the public prosperity, and in it each would enjoy the fruits of his own virtue. And as injustice, whether by fraud or force, would be unknown among themselves, so they would be sufficiently secured from it in their neighbours. For cunning and false self-interest, confederacies in injustice, eyer CHAP. III. ] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 133 slight, and accompanied with faction and intestine treachery ; these on one hand would be found mere childish folly and weakness, when set in opposition against wisdom, public spirit, union inviolable, and fidelity on the other, allowing both a sufficient length of years to try their force. Add the general influence which such a kingdom would have over the face of the earth, by way of example particularly, and the reverence which would be paid it. It would plainly be superior to all others, and the world must gradually come under its empire; not by means of lawless violence, but partly by what must be allowed to be just conquest, and partly by other king- doms submitting themselves voluntarily to it throughout a course of ages, and claiming its protection, one after another, in successive exigencies.. The head of it would be an universal monarch, in another sense than any mortal has yet been, and the eastern style would be literally applicable to him, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him. And though indeed our knowledge of human nature, and the whole history of mankind, show the impossibility, without some miraculous interposition, that a number of men here on earth should unite in one society or government, in the fear of God and universal practice of virtue, and that such a government should continue so united for a succession of ages; yet, admitting or supposing this, the effect would be as now drawn out. And thus, for in- stance, the wonderful power and prosperity promised to the Jewish nation in the Scripture, would be, in a great measure, the consequence of what is predicted of them; that the “ people should be all righteous, and inherit the land for ever;’’ were we to understand the latter phrase of a long continuance only, sufficient to give things time to work. The predictions of this kind, for there are many of them, cannot come to pass in the present known course of nature; but suppose them come to pass, and then the dominion and pre-eminence promised, must naturally follow, to a very considerable degree. Consider now the general system of religion; that the govern- ment.of the world is uniform, and one, and moral; that virtue and right shall finally have the advantage, and prevail over fraud and lawless force, over the deceits as well as the violence of wickedness, under the conduct of one supreme Governor; and from the observations above made it will appear, that God has, by our reason, given us to see a peculiar connection in the several parts of this scheme, and a tendency towards the com- 12 154 OF THE MORAL [PART I. pletion of it, arising out of the very nature of virtue; which tendency is to be considered as somewhat moral in the essential constitution of things. If any one should think all this to be of little importance, I desire him to consider what he would think, if vice had, essentially, and in its nature, these advan- tageous tendencies, or if virtue had essentially the direct con- trary ones. But it may be objected, that notwithstanding all these natu- ral effects, and these natural tendencies of virtue, yet things may be now going on throughout the universe, and may go on hereafter, in the same mixed way as here at present upon earth ; virtue sometimes prosperous, sometimes depressed 3 Vice sometimes punished, sometimes successful.* The answer. to which is, that it is not the purpose of this chapter, nor of this treatise, properly to prove God’s perfect moral government over the world, or the truth of religion, but to observe what there is in the constitution and course of nature to confirm the proper proof of it, supposed to be known, and that the weight of the foregoing observations to this purpose, may be thus distinctly proved. Pleasure and pain are indeed, to a certain degree, say to a very high degree, distributed amongst us, without any ap- parent regard to the merit or demerit of characters. And were there nothing else, concerning this matter, discernible in the constitution and course of nature, there would be no ground, from the constitution and course of nature, to hope or to fear, that men would be rewarded or punished hereafter according to their deserts; which, however, it is to be remarked, implies, that even then there would be no ground, from appearances, to think that vice, upon the whole, would have the advantage, rather than that virtue would. And thus the proof of a future state of retribution would rest upon the usual known arguments for it; which are I think plainly unanswerable, and would be so, though there were no additional confirmation of them from the things above insisted on. But these things are a very strong confirmation of them. For, First, They show that the Author of Nature is not indifferent to virtue and vice. They amount to a declaration from him, determinate, and not to be evaded, in favour of one, and against the other; such a declaration as there is nothing to be * [The objection is taken from Hume. Compare D. Stewart, Active Powers, vol. ii. pp. 226, &c. Archbishop Whately’s Essays on Pecu- liarities of Christian Religion, note, Ess. i. s, 6.—F.] CHAP. III. | GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 135 set over against, or answer, on the part of vice. So that were a man, laying aside the proper proof of religion, to determine, from the course of nature only, whether it were most probable that the righteous or the wicked would have the advantage in a future life, there can be no doubt but that he would determine the probability to be, that the former would. The course of nature then, in the view of it now given, furnishes us with a real practical view of the obligations of religion. Secondly, When conformably to what religion teaches us, God shall reward and punish virtue and vice as such, so as that every one shall, upon the whole, have his deserts, this distri- butive justice will not be a thing different in kind, but only in degree, from what we experience in his present government. It will be that in effect, toward which we now see a tendency. It will be no more than the completion of that moral govern- ment, the principles and beginning of which have been shown, beyond all dispute, discernible in the present constitution and course of nature. And from hence it follows, Thirdly, That.as under the natural government of God, our experience of those kinds and degrees of happiness and misery, which we do experience at present, gives just ground to hope for and to fear higher degrees and other kinds of both in a future state, supposing a future state admitted; so, under his moral government, our experience that virtue and vice are, In the manuers above-mentioned, actually rewarded and punished at present, in a certain degree, gives just ground to hope and to fear, that they may be rewarded and punished im a higher degree hereafter. It is acknowledged, indeed, that this alone is not sufficient ground to think, that they actually will be rewarded and punished in a higher degree, rather than in a lower: but then, Lastly, There is sufficient ground to think so, from the good and bad tendencies of virtue and vice. For these tendencies are essential, and founded in the nature of things: whereas, the hinderances to their becoming effect are, in numberless cases, not necessary, but artificial only. Now it may be much more strongly argued, that these tendencies, as well as the actual rewards and punishments of virtue and vice, which arise directly out of the nature of things, will remain hereafter, than that the accidental hinderances of them will. And if these hinderances do not remain, those rewards and punishments cavnot but be carried on much further towards the perfection 136 OF THE MORAL [PART I. of moral government, i. e. the tendencies of virtue and vice will become effect; but when, or where, or in what particular way, cannot be known at all, but by revelation. Upon the whole, there is a kind of moral government implied in God’s natural government ;* virtue and vice are naturally rewarded and punished as beneficial and mischievous to society, + and rewarded and punished directly as virtue and vice.t The notion then of a moral scheme of government is not fictitious, but natural; for it is suggested to our thoughts, by the consti- tution and course of nature; and the execution of this scheme is actually begun, in the instances here mentioned. And these things are to be considered as a declaration of the Author of nature, for virtue, and against vice; they give a credibility to the supposition of their being rewarded and punished hereafter, and also ground to hope and to fear, that they may be rewarded and punished in higher degrees than they are here. And as all this is confirmed, so the argument for religion, from the constitution and course of nature, is carried on farther, by observing, that there are natural tendencies, and in innumerable cases, only artificial hinderances, to this moral scheme being carried on much farther towards perfection than it is at present.§ The notion then of a moral scheme of government, much more perfect than what is seen, is not a fictitious, but a natural notion ; for it is suggested to our thoughts by the essential ten- dencies of virtue and vice. And these tendencies are to be considered as intimations, as implicit promises and threatenings, from the Author of nature, of much greater rewards and punishments to follow virtue and vice, than do at present. And, indeed, every natural tendency, which is to continue, but which is hindered from becoming effect by only accidental causes, affords a presumption, that such tendency will, some time or other, become effect :|| @ presumption in degree propor- * Page 120. + Page 121. { Page 122, &. 3 Page 128, &c. || [The Archbishop of Dublin (Pol. Econ., lect. ix.) has pointed out the ambiguity of the word tendency, which has been the occasion of much confusion of thought. Tendency towards a result sometimes (and strictly) only means the existence of a cause which, if operating unimpeded, would produce the result. But commonly it is used to imply the existence of such a state of things as makes it likely that the result wild actually be produced, i. e. in Butler’s language, that the hinderances to its operation are accidental : such as do not act ’ steadily and uniformly against the cause, as such, but only ocea- CHAP. 111. | GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 187 tionable to the length of the duration through which such ten- dency will continue. And from these things together arises a real presumption, that the moral scheme of government esta- blished in nature, shall be carried on much farther towards per- fection hereafter, and, I think, a presumption that it will be absolutely completed. But from these things, joined with the moral nature which God has given us, considered as given us by him, arises a practical proof* that it will be completed; a proof from fact, and therefore a distinct one, from that which is deduced from the eternal and unalterable relations, the fitness and unfitness of actions. sionally, and in consequence of its connexion with other things with which it may or may not be united. There is the clear presumption in favour of continuance (noticed by Butler, p. i. c. i.) for the ten- dency which we see steadily and uniformly operating, while there is nothing like the same presumption for the continuance of those causes of hinderances which are not permanent in their action, nor uniform in their nature.—F. | * See this proof drawn out briefly, Chap. 6. 12* 138 OF A STATE OF TRIAL. [PART I. OHAP. TV. Of a State of Probation, as implying Trial, Difficulties and Danger * THE general doctrine of religion, that our present life is a state of probation for a future one, comprehends under it seve- ral particular things, distinct from each other. But the first and most common meaning of it seems to be, that our future interest is now depending, and depending upon ourselves; that we have scope and opportunities here for that good and bad behaviour, which God will reward and punish hereafter ; toge- ther with temptations to one, as well as inducements of reason to the other. And this is, in great measure, the same with saying, that we are under the moral government of God, and to give an account of our actions to him. For the notion of a future account, and general righteous judgment, implies some * [It might be, and often is, indeed, made an objection to the reli- gious system, that our way to the everlasting blessedness which it proposes should be beset with so many lures which tempt us aside from the prosecution of it; and on the other hand, that so many hardships and difficulties should be attendant on our steadfast perse- verance in that way. The thing complained of is, that our great and ultimate good should have been made of such difficult attainment, insomuch that the frail powers of humanity, either for the achieve- ment of what is good or the resistance of what is evil, are so greatly overtasked, as in the great majority of instances to be overborne. Now in this chapter we are presented with a complete and conclusive analogy, which, if it do not establish the reality of our religious trial, at least serves to vindicate it against the exceptions which we have just enumerated. Whatever doubt we may stand in regarding those doctrines which respect the future and the unseen, there can be no quarrelling with present and actually observed facts. If the doctrine be, that the way to our eternal good is a way of labour and self- denial, it is in perfect analogy with the fact that this is the way to our temporal good also. It is quite palpable that often many toils must. be undergone, and many temptations resisted, ere we can secure the most highly-prized advantages of the life that now is; and the conclusion is, not that similar toils and temptations must, but that they may be the precursors and the preparatives of our happiness in another state of being.-—Chalmers. ] CHAP. IV.] OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 139 sort of temptations to what is wrong, otherwise there would be no moral possibility of doing wrong, nor ground for judgment or discrimination. But there is this difference, that the word probation is more distinctly and particularly expressive of allurements to wrong, or difficulties in adhering uniformly to what is right, and of the danger of miscarrying by such temp- tations, than the words moral government. A state of proba- tion, then, as thus particularly implying in it trial, difficulties, and danger, may require to be considered distinetly by itself. And as the moral government of God, which religion teaches us, Implies, that we are in a state of trial with regard to a future world; so also his natural government over us implies, that we are in a state of trial, in the like sense, with regard to the pre- sent world. Natural government, by rewards and punishments, as much implies natural trial, as moral government does moral trial. ‘The natural government of God here meant,* consists in his annexing pleasure to some actions, and pain to others, which are in our power to do or forbear, and in giving us notice of such appointment beforehand. This necessarily implies, that he has made our happiness and misery, or our interest, to de- pend in part upon ourselves. And so far as men have tempta- tions to any course of action, which will probably occasion them greater temporal inconvenience and uneasiness than satisfaction, so far their temporal interest is in danger from themselves, or they are in a state of trial with respect to it. Now people often blame others, and even themselves, for their misconduet in their temporal concerns. And we find many are greatly wanting to themselves, and miss of that natural happiness which they might have obtained in the present life; perhaps every one does in some degree. But many run themselves into great inconve- nience, and into extreme distress and misery, not through inca- pacity of knowing better, and doing better for themselves, which would be nothing to the present purpose, but through their own fault. And these things necessarily imply temptation, and danger of miscarrying, in a greater or less degree, with respect to our worldly interest or happiness. Every one too, without having religion in his thoughts, speaks of the hazards which young people run upon their setting out in the world; hazards from other causes, than merely their ignorance and unavoidable accidents. And some courses of vice, at least, being contrary * Chap. 2. 140 OF A STATE OF TRIAL. [PART I. to men’s worldly interest or good, temptations to these must at the same time be temptations to forego our present and our future interest. Thus in our natural or temporal capacity, we are in a state of trial, i. e. of difficulty and danger, analogous or like to our moral and religious trial. This will more distinctly appear to any one, who thinks it worth while, more distinctly, to consider what it is which con- stitutes our trial in both capacities, and to observe how man- kind behave under it. And that which constitutes this our trial, in both these capacities, must be somewhat either in our external cireum- stances, or in our nature. For on the one hand, persons may be betrayed into Wrong behaviour upon surprise, or overcome upon any other very singular and extraordinary external occa- sions, who would, otherwise, have preserved their character of prudence and of virtue: in which cases, every one, in speaking of the wrong behaviour of these persons, would impute it to such particular external circumstances. And on the other hand, men who have contracted habits of vice and folly of any kind, or have some particular passions in excess, will seek opportu- nities, and, as it were go out of their way, to gratify themselves in these respects, at the expense of their wisdom and their virtue ; led to it, as every one would say, not by external temp- tations, but by such habits and passions. And the account of this last case is, that particular passions are no more coincident with prudence, or that reasonable self-love, the end of which is our worldly interest, than they are with the principle of virtue and religion, but often draw contrary ways to one as well as to the other; and so much particular passions are as much temp- tations to act imprudently with regard to our worldly interest, as to act viciously.* However, as when we say, men are misled by external circumstances of temptation, it cannot but be un- derstood, that there is somewhat within themselves to render those circumstances temptations, or to render them susceptible of impressions from them; so, when we say, they are misled by passions, it is always supposed, that there are occasions, circum- stances, and objects, exciting these passions, and affording means for gratifying them. And therefore, temptations from within, and from without, coincide, and mutually imply cach other. } é ge * See Sermons preached at the Rolls, 1726, 2d. Ed. 205, &e. Pref. p. 25, &c. Serm. p. 21, &c. a CHAP. IV. ] OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 141 Now the several external objects of the appetites, passions, and affections, being present to the senses, or offering themselves to the mind, and so exciting emotions suitable to their nature, not only in cases where they can be gratified consistently with inno- cence and prudence, but also m cases where they cannot, and yet can be gratified imprudently and viciously; this as really puts them in danger of voluntarily foregoing their present inte- rest or good, as their future, and as really renders self-denial necessary to secure one as the other; 1. e. we are in a like state of trial with respect to both, by the very same passions excited by the very same means. Thus mankind having a tem- poral interest depending upon themselves, and a prudent course, of behaviour being necessary to secure it, passions inordinately excited, whether by means of example or by any other external circumstance, towards such objects, at such times, or in such degrees, as that they cannot be gratified consistently with world- ly prudence, are temptations dangerous, and too often successful , temptations, to forego a greater “temporal good for a less, 1. e. ° to forego what is, upon the whole, our temporal interest, for the sake of a present gratification. This is a description of our state of trial in our temporal capacity. Substitute now the word | future for temporal, and virtue for prudence, and it will be just as proper a description of our state of trial in our religious capacity ; so analogous are they to each other. If, from consideration of this our like state of trial in both capacities, we go on to observe farther, how mankind behave under it, we shall find there are some who have so little sense of it, that they scarce look beyond the passing day; they are so taken up with present gratifications, as to have, in a manner, no feeling of consequences, no regard to their future ease or fortune in this life, any more than to their happiness in another. Some appear to be blinded and deceived by inor- dinate passion in their worldly concerns, as much as in religion. Others are not deceived, but as it were, forcibly carried away by the like passions, against their better judgment, and feeble resolutions too, of acting better. And there are men, and truly they are not a few, who shamelessly avow, not their interest, but their mere will and pleasure, to be their law of hfe; and who, in open defiance of every thing that is reasonable, will go en in a course of vicious extravagance, foreseeing, with no remorse, and little fear, that it will be their temporal ruin; and -some of them, under the apprehension of the consequences of 142 OF A STATE OF TRIAL. [PART I. wickedness in another state. And to speak in the most mo- derate way, human creatures are not only continually liable to go wrong voluntarily, but we see likewise that they often actually do so, with respect to their temporal interests, as well as with respect to religion. Thus our difficulties and dangers, or our trials in our tem- poral and our religious capacity, as they proceed from the same causes, and have the same effect upon men’s behaviour, are evi- dently analogous, and of the same kind. Tt may be added, that as the difficulties and dangers of mis- carrying in our religious state of trial are greatly increased, and one is ready to think, in a manner wholly made, by the ill behaviour of others; by a wrong education, wrong in a moral sense, sometimes positively vicious; by general bad example; by the dishonest artifices which are got into business of all kinds; and in very many parts of the world, by religion being corrupted into superstitions which indulge men in their vices; so in like manner, the difficulties of conducting ourselves pru- dently in respect to our present interest, and our danger of being led aside from pursuing it, are greatly increased by a foolish education, and after we come to mature age, by the ex- travagance and carelessness of others, whom we have intercourse with; and by mistaken notions, very generally prevalent, and taken up from common opinion, concerning temporal happiness, and wherein it consists. And persons, by their own negligence and folly in their temporal affairs, no less than by a course of vice, bring themselves into new difficulties, and by habits of indulgence, become less qualified to go through them; and one irregularity after another embarrasses things to such a degree, that they know not whereabout they are, and often makes the path of conduct so intricate and perplexed, that it is difficult to trace it out; difficult even to determine what is the prudent or the moral part. Thus for instance, wrong behaviour in one stage of life, youth; wrong, I mean, considering ourselves only in our temporal capacity, without taking in religion; this, in several ways, increases the difficulties of right behaviour in ma- ture age; 1. e. puts us into a more disadvantageous state of trial in our temporal capacity. We are an inferior part of the creation of God: there are natural appearances of our being in a state of degradation ;* * Part II. Chap. 5. CHAP. IV.] OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 143 and we certainly are in a condition which does not seem, by any means, the most advantageous we could imagine or desire, either in our natural or moral capacity, for securing either our present or our future interest. However, this condition, low and careful and uncertain as it is, does not afford any just ground of com- plaint. For, as men may manage their temporal affairs with, prudence, and so pass their days here on earth in tolerable ease and satisfaction, by a moderate degree of care; so likewise with regard to religion, there is no more required than what they are well able to do, and what they must be greatly wanting to them- selves if they neglect. And for persons to have that put upon them which they are well able to go through, and no more, we naturally consider as an equitable thing, supposing it done by proper authority. Nor have we any more reason to complain of it, with regard to the Author of Nature, than of his not having given us other advantages, belonging to other orders of creatures. But the thing here insisted upon is, that the state of trial which religion teaches us we are in, is rendered credible, by its being throughout uniform and of a piece with the general con- duct of Providence towards us, in all other respects within the compass of our knowledge.. Indeed if mankind, considered in their natural capacity as mhabitants of this world only, found themselves, from their birth to their death, in a settled state of security and happiness, without any solicitude or thought of their own; or if they were in no danger of being brought into inconvenience and distress by carelessness, or the folly of pas- sion, through bad example, the treachery of others, or the de- ceitful appearances of things; were this our natural condition, then it might seem strange, and be some presumption against the truth of religion, that it represents our future and more general interest, as not secure of course, but as depending upon our behaviour, and requiring recollection and self-government to obtain it. For it might be alleged, “ What you say is our condition in one respect, is not in any wise of a sort with what we find, by experience, our condition is in another. Our whole present interest is secured to our hands, without any solicitude of ours, and why should not our future interest, if we have any such, be so too?’’? But since, on the contrary, thought and consideration, the voluntary denying ourselves many things which we desire, and a course of behaviour far from being always agreeable to us, are absolutely necessary to our acting 144 OF A STATE OF TRIAL. [PART I. even a common decent and common prudent part, so as to pass with any satisfaction through the present world, and be received upon any tolerable good terms in it; since this is the case, all presumption against self-denial and attention being necessary to secure our higher interest is removed. Had we not experience, it might, perhaps, speciously be urged, that it is improbable any thing of hazard and danger should be put upon us by an infinite. ‘Being, when every thing which is hazard and danger in our manner of conception, and will end in error, confusion, and misery, 1s now already certain in his foreknowledge. And indeed, why any thing of hazard and danger should be put upon such frail creatures as we are, may well be thought a difficulty in speculation; and cannot but be so, till we know the whole, or, however, much more of the case. But still the constitution of nature is as itis. Our happiness and misery are trusted to our conduct, and made to depend upon it. Somewhat, and in many circumstances, a great deal too, is put upon us, either to do or to suffer, as we choose. And all the various miseries of life, which people bring upon themselves by negligence and folly, and might have avoided by proper care, are instances of this; which miseries are, beforehand, just as contingent and undetermined as their conduct, and left to be determined by it. These observations are an answer to the objections against the credibility of a state of trial, as implying temptations, and real danger of miscarrying with regard to our general interest, under the moral government of God; and they show, that if we are at all to be considered in such a capacity, and as having such an interest, the general analogy of Providence must lead us to apprehend ourselves in danger of miscarrying, in different degrees, as to this interest, by our neglecting to act the proper part belonging to us in that capacity. For we have a present interest, under the government of God which we experience here upon earth. And this interest, as it is not foreed upon us, so neither is it offered to our acceptance, but to our acquisi- tion; in such sort, as that we are in danger of missing it, by means of tempiations to neglect or act contrary to it; and without attention and self-denial, must and do miss of it. It is then perfectly credible, that this may be our case with respect to that chief and final good which religion proposes to us. CHAP. V.| OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 145 CHAP. V. Of a State of Probation, as intended for Moral Discipline and Improvement.* From the consideration of our being in a probation-state, of so much difficulty and hazard, naturally arises the question, how we came to be placed in it. But such a general inquiry as this would be found involved in insuperable difficulties. For, though some of these difficulties would be lessened by observing, that all wickedness is voluntary, as is implied in its very notion, and that many of the miseries of life have apparent good effects, yet when we consider other circumstances belonging to both, and what must be the consequence of the former in a life to come; it cannot but be acknowledged plain folly and presumption, to pretend to give an account of the whole reasons of this matter ; the whole reasons of our being allotted a condition, out of which so much wickedness and misery, so circumstanced, would in fact arise. Whether it be not beyond our faculties, not only to find out, but even to. understand, the whole account of this; or, though we should be supposed capable of understanding it, yet, whether it would be of service or prejudice to us to be informed of it, is impossible to say. But as our present condition can in| nowise be shown inconsistent with the perfect moral government. of God; so religion teaches us we were placed in it, that we’ might qualify ourselves, by the practice of virtue, for another state, which is to follow it. And this, though but a partial an-: swer, 2 very partial one indeed, to the inquiry now mentioned, yet is a more satisfactory answer to another, which is of real, and of the utmost importance to us to have answered —the in- quiry, What is our business here? The known end then, why | we are placed in a state of so much affliction, hazard and diff- | * [The present chapter stands in the same relation to the one pre- ceding it, which that on the moral does to that on the natural govern- ment of God. It still treats of probation, but of probation with a particular end—even that of schooling men in the practice, so as to confirm them in the habits of virtue.—Chalmers. | o 1s, * 146 O¥ A STATE OF [PART I. culty is, our improvement in virtue and piety, as the requisite qualification for a future state of security and happiness. Now the beginning of life, considered as an education for ma- ture age in the present world, appears plainly, at first sight, analogous to this our trial for a future one; the former being, in our temporal capacity, what the latter is in our religious ca- pacity. But some observations common to both of them, and a more distinct consideration of each, will more distinctly show the extent and force of the analogy between them; and the credibility, which arises from hence, as well as from the nature of the thing, that the present life was intended to be a state of discipline for a future one. I. Every species of creatures is, we see, designed for a particu- lar way of life, to which the nature, the capacities, temper, and qualifications, of each species, are as necessary as their external circumstances. Both come into “the notion of such state, or particular way of life, and are constituent parts of it. Change @ man’s capacities or character to the degree in which it is con- ceivable they may be changed, and he would be altogether in- eapable of a human course of life and human happiness; as incapable, as if, his nature continuing unchanged, he were placed in a world where he had no sphere of action, nor any objects to answer his appetites, passions, and affections of any sort., One, thing is set over against another, as an ancient writer expresses | it.* Our nature corresponds to our external condition. With-' ouf this correspondence, there would be no possibility of any — such thing as human life and human happiness: which life and © happiness are, therefore, a result from our nature and condition jointly; meaning by human life, not living in the literal Sense, but the whole complex notion commonly understood by those words. So that without determining what will be the employ- ment and happiness, the particular life of good men hereafter, there must be some determinate capacities, some necessary char- acter and qualifications, without which persons cannot but be utterly incapable of it; in like manner as there must be some, without which men would be incapable of their present state of life. Now, II. The constitution of human creatures, and indeed of all creatures which come under our notice, is such, as that they are * [All things are double one against another: and He hath made nothing imperfect. One thing establisheth the good of another: and. who shall be filled with beholding his glory? — Hecles. xlii. 24, 25:] CHAP. v.| MORAL DISCIPLINE. 147 capable of naturally becoming qualified for states of life, for which they were once wholly unqualified. In imagination, we may indeed conceive of creatures, as incapable of having any of their faculties naturally enlarged, or as being unable naturally to acquire any new qualifications; but the faculties of every species known to us are made for enlargement, for acquirements of experience and habits. We find ourselves, in particular, endued with capacities, not only of perceiving ideas, and of knowledge or perceiving truth, but also of storing up our ideas of knowledge by memory. We are capable, not only of acting,’ and of having different momentary impressions made upon us, but of getting a new facility in any kind of action, and of set- tled alterations in our temper or character. The power of the two last is the power of habits. But neither the perception of ideas, nor knowledge of any sort, are habits, though absolutely necessary to the forming of them. However, apprehension, rea- son, memory, which are the capacities of acquiring knowledge, are greatly improved by exercise. Whether the word hadzt is applicable to all these improvements, and, in particular, how far the powers of memory and of habits may be powers of the same nature, I shall not inquire. But that perceptions come into our minds readily and of course, by means of their having been there before, seems a thing of the same sort, as readiness in any particular kind of action, proceeding from being accustomed to it. And aptness to recollect practical observations of service in our conduct, is plainly hehit in many cases. There are habits of perception, and habits of action. An instance of the former, is our constant and even involuntary readiness in correcting the impressions of our sight concerning magnitudes and distances, so as to substitute judgment in the room of sensation, imper- ceptibly to ourselves. And it seems as if all other associations of ideas, not naturally connected, might be called passive habits, as properly as our readiness in understanding languages upon sight, or hearing of words. And our readiness in speaking and writing them is an instance of the latter, of active habits. For distinctness, we may consider habits as belonging to the body or the mind, and the latter will be explained by the former. Under the former are comprehended all bodily activities or motions, whether graceful or unbecoming, which are owing to use; under the latter, general habits of life and conduct, such 4s those of obedience and submission to authority, or to any particular per- son; those of veracity, justice, and charity; those of attention, ode = 148 OF A STATE OF [PART I, industry, self-government, envy, revenge. And habits of this latter kind seem produced by repeated acts, as well as the for- mer. And in like manner, as habits belonging to the: body are produced by external acts, so habits of the mind are pro- duced by the exertion of inward practical principles; i.e. by car- rying them into act, or acting upon them, the principles of obedience, of veracity, justice, and charity. Nor can those ha- bits be formed by any external course of action, otherwise than as it proceeds from these principles; because it is only these inward principles exerted, which are strictly acts of obedience, of veracity, of justice, and of charity. So likewise, habits of attention, industry, self-government, are in the same manner acquired by exercise; and habits of envy and revenge by indul- gence, whether in outward act or in thought and intention, i. e. inward act; for such intention is an act. Resolutions also to do well are properly acts. And endeavouring to enforce upon our own minds a practical sense of virtue, or to beget in others that practical sense of it which a man really has himself, is a virtuous act. All these, therefore, may and will contribute to- wards forming good habits. But going over the theory of virtue in one’s thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pictures of it; this is so far trom necessarily or certainly conducing to form a habit of it in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more in- sensible, i. e. form a habit of insensibility to all moral considera- tions. For, from our very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being repeated, grow weaker. Thoughts, by often passing through the mind, are felt less sensibly; being accustomed to danger begets intrepidity, i. e. lessens fear; to distress, lessens the passion of pity; to instances of others’ mortality, lessens the sensible apprehension of our own. And from these two obser- vations together ; that practical habits are formed and strength- ened by repeated acts, and that passive impressions grow weaker by being repeated upon us; it must follow, that active habits may be gradually forming and strengthening, by a course of acting upon such and such motives and excitements, whilst these mo- tives and excitements themselves are, by proportionable degrees, growing less sensible ; i. e. are continually less and less sensibly felt, even as the active habits strengthen. And experience con- firms this; for active principles, at the very time that they are less lively in perception than they were, are found to be some how wrought more thoroughly into the temper and character, ee —S e CHAP. V. ] - MORAL DISCIPLINE. 149 and become more effectual in influencing our practice. The three things just mentioned may afford instances of it. Percep- tion of danger is a natural excitement of passive fear and active caution ; and by being.inured to danger, habits of the latter are gradually wrought, at the same time that the former gradually lessens. Perception of distress in others is a natural excitement, passively to pity, and actively to relieve it; but let a man set himself to attend to, inquire out, and relieve distressed persons, and he cannot but grow less and less sensibly affected with the various miseries of life, with which he must become acquainted ; when yet, at the same time, benevolence, considered not as a passion, but as a practical principle of action, will strengthen ; and whilst he passively compassionates the distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude actively to assist and befriend them. So also, at the same time that the daily instances of men’s dying around us give us daily a less sensible passive feeling or apprehension of our own mortality, such instances greatly contribute to the strengthening a practical regard to it in serious men; 1. e. to forming a habit of acting with a constant view to it. And this seems again further to show, that passive impres- “sions made upon our minds by admonition, experience, example, though they may have a remote efficacy, and a very great one, towards forming active habits, yet can have this efficacy no oth- erwise than by inducing us to such a course of action; and that it is, not being affected so and so, but acting, which forms those habits; only it must be always remembered, that real endeavours to enforce good impressions upon ourselves, are a species of vir- tuous action. Nor do we know how far it is possible, in the nature of things, that effects should be wrought in us at once equivalent to habits,* i. e. what is wrought by use and exercise. However, the thing insisted upon is, not what may be possible, but what is in fact the appointment of nature, which is, that active habits are to be formed by exercise. Their progress may be so gradual as to be imperceptible in its steps; it may be hard to explain the faculty by which we are capable of habits, throughout its several parts, and to trace it up to its original, so as to distinguish it from all others in our mind; and it seems a ee ee Ne ee See * {In some of the miracles there seem to have been effects produced at once, equivalent to habits, as in the gift of tongues; and as pointed out by Dr. Drought (in Dean Graves’s Works), in the miracle by which the blind man was enabled to wse the sight which had been miracu- lously given to him, —F.] K 150 OF A STATE OF [PART I. in general, that our nature is formed to yield, in some such manner as this, to use and exercise, 1s matter of certain expe- rience. Thus, by accustoming ourselves to any course of action, we get an aptness to go on, a facility, readiness, and often pleasure init. The inclinations which rendered us averse to it grow weaker; the difficulties in it, not only the imaginary but the real ones, lessen; the reasons for it offer themselves of course to our thoughts upon all occasions; and the least glimpse of them is sufficient to make us go on in a course of action to which we have been accustomed. And practical principles appear to grow stronger, absolutely in themselves, by exercise, as well as relatively, with regard to contrary principles; which by being accustomed to submit, do so habitually, and of course. And thus a new character, in several respects, may be formed; and many habitudes of life, not given by nature, but which nature directs us to acquire. IIf. Indeed we may be assured, that we should never have had these capacities of improving by experience, acquired know- ledge and habits, had they not been necessary, and intended to be made use of. And accordingly, we find them so necessary, and so much intended, that without them we should be utterly incapable of that which was the end for which we were made, considered in our temporal capacity only; the employments and satisfactions of our mature state of life. Nature does in nowise qualify us wholly, much less at once, for this mature state of life. Kven maturity of understanding and bodily strength are not only arrived to gradually, but are also very much owing to the continued exercise of our powers of body and mind from infancy. But if we suppose a person brought into the world with both these in maturity, as far as this is conceivable, he would plainly at first be as unqualified for the human life of mature age, as an idiot. He would be in a manner distracted with astonishment, and apprebension, and curiosity, and suspense; nor can one guess how long it would be before he would be familiarized to himself, and the objects about him, enough even to set himself to any thing. It may be questioned too, whether the natural information of his sight and hearing would be of any manner of use at all to him in acting, before experience. And it seems that men would be strangely headstrong and self-willed, and disposed to exert as if contrary effects were to be ascribed to it. But the thing CHAP. V.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 151 themselves with an impetuosity which would render society insupportable, and the living in it impracticable, were it not for some acquired moderation and self-government, some aptitude and readiness in restraining themselves, and concealing their sense of things. Want of every thing of this kind which is learned, would render a man as incapable of society as want of language would; or as his natural ignorance of any of the par- ticular employments of life, would render him incapable of pro- viding himself with the comthon conveniences, or supplying the necessary wants of it. In these respects, and probably in many more, of which we have no particular notion, mankind is left by nature an unformed, unfinished creature, utterly deficient and unqualified, before the acquirement of knowledge, expe- rience, and habits, for that mature state of life, which was the end of his creation, considering him as rélated only to this world. But then, as nature has endued us with a power of supplying those deficiencies, by acquired knowledge, experience, and ha- bits; so likewise, we are placed in a condition, in infancy, childhood, and youth, fitted for it; fitted for our acquiring those qualifications of all sorts, which we stand in need of in mature age. Hence children, from their very birth, are daily growing acquainted with the objects about them, with the scene in which they are placed, and to have a future part; and learn- ing somewhat or other, necessary to the performance of it. The subordinations, to which they are accustomed in domestic life, teach them self-government in common behaviour abroad, and prepare them for subjection and obedience to civil authority. What passes before their eyes, and daily happens to them, gives them experience, caution against treachery and deceit, together with numberless little rules of action and conduct, which we could not live without, and which are learned so insensibly and so perfectly, as to be mistaken perhaps for instinct; though they are the effect of long experience and exercise; as much go as language, or knowledge in particular business, or the qualifi- cations and behaviour belonging to the several ranks and pro- fessions. Thus the beginning of our days is adapted to be, and is, a state of education in the theory and practice of mature life. We are much assisted in it by example, instruction, and the care of others; but a great deal is left to ourselves to do. And of this, as part is done easily and of course, so part requires diligence and care, the voluntary foregoing many things which its een COON 152 OF A STATE OF [PART I. we desire, and setting ourselves to what we should have no inclination to, but for the necessity or expedience of it. For, that labour and industry which the station of so many abso- lutely requires, they would be greatly unqualified for in ma- turity; as those in other stations would be for any other sorts of application, if both were not accustomed to them in their youth. And according as persons behave themselves, in the general education which all go through, and in the particular ones adapted to particular employments, their character is formed, and made appear; they recommend themselves more or less; and are capable of, and placed in, different stations in the society of mankind. The former part of life then is to be considered as an im- portant opportunity, which nature puts into our hands, and which, when lost, is not to be recovered. And our being placed in a state of discipline throughout this life, for another world, -is a providential disposition of things, exactly of the same kind as our being placed in a state of discipline during childhood, for mature age. Our condition in both respects is uniform and of a piece, and comprehended under one and the same general law of nature. And if we are not able at all to discern, how or in what way ' the.present life could be our preparation for another, this would be no objection against the credibility of its being so. For we \ do not discern how food and sleep contribute to the growth of ' the body, nor could have any thought that they would, before \ we had experience. Nor do children at all think, on the one hand, that the sports and exercises, to which they are so much addicted, contribute to their health and growth; nor, on the other, of the necessity which there is for their being restrained in them; nor are they capable of understanding the use of many parts of discipline, which nevertheless they must be made to go through, in order to qualify them for the business of ma- ture age. Were we not able then, to discover in what respects the present life could form us for a future one, yet nothing would be more supposable than that it might, in some respects or other, from the general analogy of Providence. And this, for aught I see, might reasonably be said, even though we should not take in the consideration of God’s moral government over the world. But, IV. Take in this consideration, and consequently, that the character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualification for the CHAP. V.]| MORAL DISCIPLINE, 158 future state, and then we may distinctly see how, and in what respects, the present life may be a preparation for it; since we want, and are capable of, improvement in that character, by moral and religious habits ; and the present life is fit to be a state of discipline for such improvement ; in like manner, as we have already observed, how and in what respects, infancy, childhood and youth, are a necessary preparation, and a natural state of discipline, for mature age. Nothing which we at present see would lead us to the thought of a solitary inactive state hereafter ; but, if we judge at all from the analogy of nature, we must suppose, according to the Scrip- ture account of it, that it will be a community. And there is no shadow of any thing unreasonable in conceiving, though there be no analogy for it, that this community will be, as the Serip- ture represents it, under the more immediate, or, if such an ex- pression may be used, the more sensible government of God. Nor is our ignorance, what will be the employments of this happy community, nor our consequent ignorance, what parti- cular scope or occasion there will be for the exercise of veracity, justice, and charity, amongst the members of it with regard to each other, any proof that there will be no sphere of exercise for those virtues. Much less, if that were possible, is our igno- rance any proof that there will be no occasion for that frame of mind, or character, which is formed by the daily practice of those particular virtues here, and which isa result from it. This at least must be owned in general, that as the government established in the universe is moral, the character of virtue and piety must, in somé way or other, be the condition of our hap- piness, or the qualification for it. Now from what is above observed concerning our natural power of habits, it is easy to see, that we are capable of moral improvement by discipline. And how greatly we want it, need not be proved to any one who is acquainted with the great wickedness of mankind, or even with those imperfections which the best are conscious of. But it is not perhaps distinctly attended to by every one, that the occasion which human crea- tures have for discipline, to improve in them this character of virtue and piety, is to be traced up higher than to excess in the passions, by indulgence and habits of vice. Mankind, and _per- haps all finite creatures, from the very constitution of their nature, before habits of virtue, are deficient, and in danger of deviating from what is right, and therefore stand in need of ° 154 OF A STATE OF — _ [PART I. virtuous habits, for a security against this danger.* For, toge- ther with the general principle of moral understanding, we have in our inward frame various affections towards particular ex- ternal objects. These affections are naturally and of right, subject to the government of the moral principle, as to the occasions on which they may be gratified; as to the times, de- grees, and manner, in which the objects of them may be pur- sued; but then the principle of virtue can neither excite them, nor prevent their being excited. On the contrary, they are naturally felt, when the objects of them are present to the mind, not only before all consideration, whether they can be obtained by lawful means, but after it is found they cannot. For the natural objects of affection continue so; the neces- sarles, conveniences, and pleasures of life, remain naturally de- sirable, though they cannot be obtained innocently, nay, though they cannot possibly be obtained at all. And when the objects of any affection whatever cannot be obtained without unlawful | means, but may be obtained by them, such affection, though its being excited, and its coutinuing some time in the mind, be as_ innocent as it is natural and necessary, yet cannot but be con- | o ceived to have a tendency to incline persons to venture upon. such unlawful means, and therefore must be conceived as put- ting them in some danger of it. Now what is the general secu- rity against this danger, against their actually deviating from’ right? As the danger is, so also must the security be from) within, from the practical principle of virtue.f And the * [It is from this point of view that Aristotle determines, ovr’ doa poe ovre napa pvoww éyyivovrat at dperat, adda rehuKdor pov fyty déacOat adras, Tehevovpévors & ded Tov EO0ds.— Hthic. Nicom., iii. i. ‘‘In order to under- stand this it is to be observed, that virtue may be considered either as the quality of an action, or as the quality of a person. Consider- ed as the quality of an action, it consists, even according to Aristotle, in the reasonable moderation of the affection from which the action proceeds, whether this moderation be habitual to the person or not. Considered as the quality of the person, it consists in the habit of this reasonable moderation, in its having become the customary and usual disposition of the mind. ..... If a single action was sufficient to stamp the character of any virtue upon the person who performed it, the most worthless of mankind might lay claim to all the virtues; since there is no man who has not, upon some occasions, acted with prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude, Smith’s Moral Sent. P. vi. §. 2.—F + It may be thought, that a sense of interest would as effectually restrain creatures from doing wrong. But if by a sense of interest, is CHAP. V.J MORAL DISCIPLINE. 155 strengthening or improving this principle, considered as prac- tical, or as a principle of action, will lessen the danger or in- erease the sccurity against it. And this moral principle is capable of improvement, by proper discipline and exercise; by recollecting the practical impressions which example and ex- perience have made upon us; and, instead of following humour and mere inclination, by continually attending to the equity and right of the case, in whatever we are engaged, be it in greater or less matters, and accustoming ourselves always to act upon it, as being itself the just and natural motive of action; and as this moral course of behaviour must necessarily, under divine government, be our final interest. Thus the principle of virlue, improved into a habit, of which improvement we are thus capable, will plainly be, in proportion to the strength of il, a security against the danger which finite creatures are in, from the very nature of propension, or particular affections. This way of putting the matter, supposes particular affections to remain in a future state, which it is scarce possible to avoid supposing. And if they do, we clearly see, that acquired habits of virtue and self-government may be necessary for the regula- tion of them. However, though we were not distinctly to take in this supposition, but to speak only in general, the thing really comes to the same. For habits of virtue, thus acquired by discipline, are improvement in virtue; and improvement in virtue must be advancement in happiness, if the government of the universe be moral. | From these things we may observe, and it will farther show this our natural and original need of being improved by disci- meant, a speculative conviction or belief that such and such indul- gence would occasion them greater uneasiness, upon the whole, than satisfaction, it is contrary to present experience to say, that. this sense of interest is sufficient to restrain them from thus indulging themselves. And if by a sense of interest, is meant, a practical regard to what is upon the whole our happiness, this is not only coincident with the principle of virtue or moral rectitude, but is a part of the idea itself. And, itis evident, this reasonable self-love wants to be improved, as really as any principle in our nature. For we daily see it overmatched, not only by the more boisterous passions, but by curiosity, shame, love of imitation, by any thing, even indolence ; especially if the interest, the temporal interest, suppose, which is the end of such self-love, be at a distance. So greatly are profligate men mistaken, when they affirm they are wholly governed by interested- ness and self-love; and so little cause is there for moratists to dis- claim this principle. See pp. 140, 141. 156 OF A STATE OF [PART I. pline, how it comes to pass, that creatures, made upright, fall ; and that those who preserve their uprightness, by so doing, raise themselves to a more secure state of virtue. ‘To say that the former is accounted for by the nature of liberty, is to say no more than that an event’s actually happening is accounted for by a mere possibility of its happening. But it seems distinctly conceivable from the very nature of particular affections or pro- pensions. or, suppose creatures intended for such a particular state of life, for which such propensions were necessary ; sup- pose them endued with such propensions, together with moral — understanding, as well including a practical sense of virtue as a speculative perception of it; and that all these several princi- ples, both natural and moral, forming an inward constitution of _ mind, were in the most exact proportion possible; i. e. in a proportion the most exactly adapted to their intended state of life; such creatures would be made upright, or finitely perfect. Now particular propensions, from their very nature, must be felt, the objects of them being present, though they cannot be gratified at all, or not with the allowance of the moral principle. But if they can be gratified without its allowance, or by contra- dicting it, then they must be conceived to have some tendency, in how low a degree soever, yet some tendency, to induce per- sons to such forbidden gratification. This tendency, in some one particular propension, may be increased, by the greater frequency of occasions naturally exciting it, than of occasions exciting others. The least voluntary indulgence in forbidden circumstances, though but in thought, will increase this wrong tendency, and may increase it further, till, peculiar eonjunctures perhaps conspiring, it becomes effect; and danger of deviating from right, ends in actual deviation from it: a danger necessa- rily arising from the very nature of propension, and which therefore could not have been prevented, though it might have been escaped, or got innocently through. The case would be, as if we were to suppose a straight path marked out for a per- son, in which such a degree of attention would keep him steady; but if he would not attend in this degree, any one of a thousand objects catching his eye, might lead him out of it. Now it is impossible to say, how much even the first full overt act of irregularity might disorder the inward constitution, unsettle the adjustments, and alter the proportions which formed it, and in which the uprightness of its make consisted. But repetition of irregularities would produce habits: and thus the constitu- a) CHAP. V.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 157 tion would be spoiled, and creatures, made upright, become cor- rupt and depraved in their settled character, proportionably to their repeated irregularities in occasional acts. But, on the con- trary, these creatures might have improved and raised themselves to a higher and more secure state of virtue, by the contrary be- haviour, by steadily following the moral principle, supposed to be one part of their nature, and thus withstanding that unavoid- able danger of defection, which necessarily arose from propension, the other part of it. or, by thus preserving their integrity for some time, their danger would lessen, since propensions, by being inured to submit, would do it more easily and of course; and their security against this lessening danger would increase, since the moral principle would gain additional strength by exercise ; both which things are implied in the notion of virtuous habits. Thus then vicious-indulgence is not only criminal in itself, but also depraves the inward constitution and character. And vir- tuous self-government is not only right in itself, but also im- proves the inward constitution or character; and may improve it to such a degree, that though we should suppose it impossible for particular affections to be absolutely coincident with the moral principle, and consequently should allow, that such crea- tures as have been above supposed would for ever remain defect- ible; yet their danger of actually deviating from right may be almost infinitely lessened, and they fully fortified against what remains of it; if that may be called danger, against which there is an adequate effectual security. But still, this their higher perfection may continue to consist in habits of virtue formed in a state of discipline, and this their more complete security re- main to proceed from them. And thus it is plainly conceivable, that creatures without blemish, as they came out of the hands of God, may be in danger of going wrong, and so may stand in need of the security of virtuous habits additional to the moral principle wrought into their natures by him. That which is the ground of their danger, or their want of security, may be considered as a deficiency in them, to which virtuous habits are the natural supply. And as they are naturally capable of being raised and improved by discipline, it may be a thing fit and requisite, that they should be placed in circumstances with an eye to it; in circumstances peculiarly fitted to be, to them, a state of discipline for their improvement in virtue. But how much more strongly must this hold with respect to those who have corrupted their natures, are fallen from their 14 158 OF A STATE OF [PART I. original rectitude, and whose passions are become excessive by repeated violations of their inward constitution ? Upright crea- tures may want to be improved ; depraved creatures want to be renewed. Education and discipline, which may be in all degrees and sorts of gentleness and severity, is expedient for those ; but must be absolutely necessary for these. For these, discipline of the severer sort too, and in the higher degrees of it, must be necessary, in order to wear out vicious habits; to recover their primitive strength of self-government, which indulgence must have weakened; to repair as well as raise into a habit, the moral principle, in order to their arriving at a secure state of. virtuous happiness. Now whoever will consider the thing, may clearly see, that the present world is peculiarly fit to be a state of discipline for this purpose, to such as will set themselves to amend and improve. For, the various temptations with which we are surrounded ; our experience of the deceits of wickedness; having been in many in- stances led wrong ourselves; the great viciousness of the world ; the infinite disorders consequent upon it; our being made ac- quainted with pain and sorrow, either from our own feeling of it, or from the sight of it in others; these things, though some of ; them may indeed produce wrong effects upon our minds; yet when duly reflected upon, have all of them a direct tendency to bring us to a settled moderation and reasonableness of temper ;/ the contrary both to thoughtless levity, and also to that unre- strained self-will, and violent bent to follow present inclination, which may be observed in undisciplined minds. Such experience, as the present state affords of the frailty of our nature, of the boundless extravagance of ungoverned passion, of the power which an infinite Being has over us, by the various capacities of misery which he has given us; in short, that kind and degree of expe- rience which the present state affords us, that the constitution of nature is such, as to admit the possibility, the danger, and the actual event of creatures losing their innocence and happi- ness, and becoming vicious and wretched; hath a tendency to give us a practical sense of things very different from a mere speculative knowledge, that we are liable to vice, and capable of misery. And who knows, whether the security of creatures} in the highest and most settled state of perfection, may not, in) part, arise from their having had such a sense of things as this,| formed, and habitually fixed within them, in some state of pro-| bation? And _ passing through the present world with that CHAP. V.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 159 moral attention which is necessary to the acting a right part in it, may leave everlasting impressions of this sort upon our minds. But to be a little more distinct: allurements to what is wrong; difficulties in the discharge of our duty; our not being able to act a uniform right part without some thought and care; and the opportunities which we have, or imagine we haye, of avoiding what we dislike, or obtaining what we desire, by unlawful means, when we either cannot do it at all, or at Jeast not so easily, by lawful ones; these things, 1. e. the snares and temptations of vice, are what render the present world pe- culiarly fit to be a state of discipline to those who will preserve their integrity: because they render being upon our guard, resolution, and the denial of our passions, necessary in order to that end. And the exercise of such particular recollection, intention of mind, and self-government, in the practice of virtue, has, from the make of our nature, a peculiar tendency to form habits of virtue, as implying not only a real, but also a more continued, and a more intense exercise of-the virtuous principle ; or a more constant and a stronger effort of virtue exerted into act. Thus suppose a person to know himself to be in particular danger, for some time, of doing any thing wrong, which yet he fully resolves not to do; continued recollection, and keeping upon his guard, in order to make good his resolution, is a con- tinued exerting of that act of virtue in a high degree, which need have been, and perhaps would have been, only instanta- neous and weak, had the temptation been so. It is indeed | ridiculous to assert, that self-denial is essential to virtue and piety; but it would have been nearer the truth, though not strictly the truth itself, to have said, that it is essential to dis-. cipline and improvement. For though actions materially vir- tuous, which have no sort of difficulty, but are perfectly agree- able to our particular inclinations, may possibly be done only from these particular inclinations, and so may not be any exer- cise of the principle of virtue, i. e. not be virtuous actions: at all; yet, on the contrary, they may be an exercise of that prin- ciple, and, when they are, they have a tendency to form and fix the habit of virtue. But when the exercise of the virtuous principle is more continued, oftener repeated, and more intense, | as it must be in circumstances of danger, temptation, and diff- | culty, of any kind and in any degree, this tendency is increased | proportionably, and a more confirmed habit 1s the consequence. This undoubtedly holds to a certain length, but how far it 160 OF A STATE OF [PART I. may hold, I,know not. Neither our intellectual powers, nor our bodily strength, can be improved beyond such a degree ; and both may be overwrought. Possibly there may be some- what analogous to this, with respect to the moral character ; which is scarce worth considering. And I mention it only, lest it should come into some persons’ thoughts, not as an exception to the foregoing observations, which perhaps it is; but as a con- futation of them, which it is not. And there may be several other exceptions.. Observations of this kind cannot be supposed to hold minutely, and in every case. It is enough that they hold in general. And these plainly hold so far, as that from them may be seen distinctly, which is all that is intended by them, that the present world is peculiarly fit to be a state of discipline for our improvement in virtue and piety ; in the same sense as some sciences, by requiring and engaging the attention, not to be sure of such persons as will not, but of such as will, set themselves to them, are fit to form the mind to habits of attention. Indeed the present state is so far from proving, in event, a discipline of virtue to the generality of men, that on the con- trary, they seem to make it a discipline of vice. And the viciousness of the world is, in different ways, the great. tempta- tion which renders it a state of virtuous discipline, in the degree it is to good men. The whole end, and the whole oceasion, of: mankind being placed in such a state as the present, is not pre- tended to be accounted for. That which appears amidst the general corruption is, that there are some persons, who, having within them the principle of amendment and recovery, attend to and follow the notices of virtue and religion, be they more clear or more obscure, which are afforded them ; and that the present world is, not only an exercise of virtue in these persons, but an exercise of it in ways and degrees peculiarly apt to im. prove it; apt to improve it, in some respects, even beyond what would be, by the exercise of it required in a perfectly virtuous society, or in a society of equally imperfect virtue with them- selves. But that the present world does not actually become a state of moral discipline to many, even to the generality, i. e. that they do not improve or grow better in it, cannot be urged as a proof that it was not intended for moral discipline, by any who at all observe the analogy of nature. For, of the numerous seeds of vegetables and bodies of animals, which are adapted and put in the way, to improve to such a point or state of na- * CHAP. V. | MORAL DISCIPLINE. 161 tural maturity and perfection, we do not see perhaps that one in a million actually does. Far the greatest part of them decay before they are improved to it, and appear to be absolutely destroyed. Yet no one, who does not deny all final causes, will deny, that those seeds and bodies which do attain to that point of maturity and perfection, answer the end for which they were really designed by nature; and therefore that nature designed them for such perfection. And I cannot forbear adding, though it is not to the present purpose, that the appearance of such an amazing waste in nature, with respect to these seeds and bodies, by foreign causes, is to us as unaccountable, as, what is much more terrible, the present and future ruin of so many moral agents by themselves, i. e. by vice. Against this whole notion of moral discipline it may be objected, in another way, that so far as a course of behaviour, materially virtuous, proceeds from hope and fear, so far it is only a discipline and strengthening of self-love.* But doing what God commands, because he commands it, is obedience, though it proceeds from hope or fear. And a course of such obedience will form habits of it: and a constant regard to ve- racity, justice, and charity, may form distinct habits of these particular virtues, and will certainly form habits. of self- government, and of denying our inclinations, whenever veracity, justice, or charity requires it. Nor is there any foundation for this great nicety, with which some affect to distinguish in this case, in order to depreciate all religion proceeding from hope or fear. For. veracity, justice and charity, regard to God’s authority, and to our own chief interest, are not only all three coincident, but each of them is, in itself, a just and natural motive or principle of action. And he who begins a good life from any one of them, and perseveres in it, as he is already in some degree, so he cannot fail of becoming more and more of that character, which is correspondent to the constitution of nature as moral, and to the relation which God stands in to us as moral governor of it; nor consequently, can he fail of ob- taining that happiness, which this constitution and relation necessarily suppose connected with that character. These several observations, concerning the active principle of virtue and. obedience to God’s commands, are applicable to pas- * [The reference here is no doubt to Lord Shaftesbury’s ‘“ Inquiry concerning Virtue,” P. UI. 8. 3.—F.] id 162 * OF A STATE OF [PART I. sive submission or resignation to his will; which is another essential part of a right character, connected with the former, and very much in our power to form ourselves to. It may be imagined, that nothing but afflictions can give occasion for or require this virtue; that it can have no respect to, nor be any way necessary to qualify for a state of perfect happiness; but it is not experience which can‘make us think thus. Prosperity itself, whilst any thing supposed desirable is not ours, begets extravagant and unbounded thoughts. . Imagination is ‘alto- gether as much a source of discontent as any thing in our ex- ternal condition. It is indeed true that there can be no scope for patience, when sorrow shall be no more; but there may be need of a temper of mind, which shall have been formed by patience. For though self-love, considered merely as an active principle leading us to pursue our chief interest, cannot but be uniformly coincident with the principle of obedience to God’s commands, our interest being rightly understood ; because this obedience, and the pursuit of our own chief interest, must be in every case one and the same thing; yet it may be questioned, whether self-love, considered merely as the desire of our own interest or happiness, can, from its nature, be thus absolutely and uniformly coincident with the will of God, any more than particular affections can ;* coincident in such sort, as not to be lable to be excited upon occasions and-in degrees, impossible to be gratified consistently with the constitution of things, or the divine appointments. So that habits of resignation may, upon this account, be requisite for all creatures ; habits, I say, which signify what is formed by use. However, in general, it is ob- vious, that both self-love and particular affections in human creatures, considered only as passive feelings, distort and rend the mind, and therefore stand in need of discipline. Now de- nial of those particular affections, in a course of active virtue and obedience to God’s will, has a tendency to moderate thei, and seems also to have a tendency to habituate the mind to be easy and satisfied with that degree of happiness which is allotted us, i. e. to moderate self-love.t But the proper discipline * Page 144. . tT [‘‘ Disengagement is absolutely necessary. to enjoyment; and a person may have so steady and fixed an eye upon his own interest, whatever he places it in, as may hinder him from attending to many gratifications within his reach, which others have their minds Sree and open to. Over fondness for a child is not generally thought to be for . CHAP. V.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 163 for resignation is affliction. For a right behaviour under that trial, recollecting ourselves so as to consider it in the view in which religion teaches us to consider it, as from the hand of God; receiving it as what he appoints, or thinks proper to per- mit, in his world, and under his government, this will habituate the mind to a dutiful submission; and such submission, toge- ther with the active principle of obedience, make up the temper and character in us which answers to his sovereignty, and which absolutely belongs to the condition of our being, as dependent creatures. Nor can it be said, that this is only breaking the mind to a submission to mere power; for mere power may be accidental, and precarious, and usurped; but it is forming within ourselves the temper of resignation to his rightful autho- rity, who is, by nature, supreme over all. _ Upon the whole, such a character, and such qualifications, are necessary for a mature state of life in the present world, as nature alone does in nowise bestow, but has put it upon us in great part to acquire, in our progress from one stage of life to another, from childhood to mature age; put it upon us to ac- quire them, by giving us capacities of doing it, and by placing us, in the beginning of life, in a condition fit for it. And this is a general analogy to our condition in the present world, as in a state of moral discipline for another. It is in vain then to object against the credibility of the present life’s being intended for this purpose, that all the trouble and the danger unavoid- ably accompanying such discipline might have been saved us, by our being made at once the creatures and the characters which we were to be. \ For we experience, that what we were to be, was to be the effect of what we would do; and that the general conduct of nature is, not to save us trouble or danger, but to make us capable of going through them, and to put it upon us to do so. Acquirements of our own, experience and habits, are the natural supply to our deficiencies, and security its advantage; and if there be any guess to be made from appear- ances, surely the character we call selfish is not the most promising for happiness. Such a temper may plainly be, and exert itself in a degree and manner which may give unnecessary and useless solicitude and anxiety,—in a degree or manner which may prevent obtaining the means and materials of enjoyment, as well as the making use of them. Immoderate self-love does very ill consult its own interest; and, how much soever a paradox it may appear, it is certainly true, that, even from self-love, we should endeavour to get over all inordi- nate regard to, and consideration of ourselves.’”’—Sermons, xi. p. 129.] 164 OF A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. [PART I. against our dangers; since it is plainly natural to set ourselves to acquire the qualifications, as the external things which we stand in need of. In particular, it is as plainly a general law of nature, that we should, with regard to our temporal interest, form and cultivate practical principles within us, by attention, use, and discipline, as any thing whatever is a natural law; chiefly in the beginning of life, but also throughout the whole course of it. And the alternative is left to our choice, either to improve ourselves, and better our condition, or, in default of such improvement, to remain deficient and wretched. It is therefore perfectly credible, from the analogy of nature, that the same may be our case, with respect to the happiness of a future state, and the qualifications necessary for it. There is a third thing, which may seem implied in the pre- sent world’s being a state of probation, that it is a theatre of action for the manifestation of persons’ characters, with respect to a future one; not to be sure to an all-knowing being, but to his creation, or part of it. This may, perhaps, be only a con- sequence of our being in a state of probation in the other senses. However, it is not impossible that men’s showing and making manifest what is in their heart, what their real character is, may have respect to a future life, in ways and manners which we are not acquainted with; particularly it may be a means, for the Author of Nature does not appear to do any thing without means, of their being disposed of suitably to their characters, and of its being known to the creation, by way of example, that they are thus disposed of. But not to enter upon any conjectural account of this, one may just mention, that the manifestation of persons’ characters contributes very much, in various ways, to the carrying on a great part of that general course of nature respecting mankind, which comes under our observation at present. I shall only add, that pro- bation, in both these senses, as well as in that treated of in the preceding chapter, is implied in moral government; since by persons’ behaviour under it, their characters cannot but be manitested, and if they behave well, improved. CHAP. VI.]| OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY. 165 CHAP. VI. Of the Opinion of WV ecessity, considered as influencing Practice. TurovcHour the foregoing Treatise it appears, that the condition of mankind, considered as inhabitants of this world only, and under the government of God which we experience, is greatly analogous to our condition, as designed for another world, or under that farther government which religion teaches us. If therefore any assert, as a fatalist must, that the opinion of universal necessity is reconcilable with the former, there im- mediately arises a question in the way of analogy; whether he must not also own it to be reconcilable with the latter, i. e. with the system of religion itself, and the proof of it. The reader then will observe, that the question now before us is not absolute, whether the opinion of fate be reconcilable with reli- gion; but hypothetical, whether, upon supposition of its being reconcilable with the constitution of nature, it be not recon- cilable with religion also? or, what pretence a fatalist— not other persons, but a fatalist—has to conclude, from his opinion, that there can be no such thing as religion? And as the puzzle and obscurity, which must unavoidably arise from arguing upon so absurd a supposition as that of universal necessity, will, I fear, easily be seen, it will, I hope, as easily be excused. But since it has been all along taken for granted, as a thing proved, that there is an intelligent Author of Nature, or natural Governor of the world; and since an objection may be made against the proof of this, from the opinion of universal necessity, as it may be supposed that such necessity will itself account for the origin and preservation of all things, it is requisite that this objection be distinctly answered; or that it be shown, that a fatality, supposed consistent with what we certainly expe- rience, does not destroy the proof of an intelligent Author and Governor of Nature, before we proceed to consider, whether it destroys the proof of a moral governor of it, or of our being in a state of religion. 166 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I. Now, when it is said by a fatalist, that the whole constitution of nature, and the actions of men, that every thing, and every mode and circumstance of every thing, is necessary, and could not possibly have been otherwise, it is to be observed, that this necesssity does not exclude deliberation, choice, preference, and acting from certain principles, and to certain ends; because all this is matter of undoubted experience, acknowledged by all, and what every man may, every moment, be conscious of. And from hence it follows, that necessity, alone and of itself, is in no sort an account of the constitution of nature, and how things came to be and to continue as they are; but only an account of this circumstance relating to their origin and con- tinuance, that they could not have been otherwise than they are and have been. ‘The assertion, that every thing is by necessity of nature, is not an answer to the question; Whether the world came into being as it is, by an intelligent Agent forming it thus, or not, but to quite another question; Whether it came © into being as it is, in that way and manner which we call necessarily, or in that way and manner which we call freely. Hor suppose farther, that one who was a fatalist, and one who kept to his natural sense of things, and believed himself a free agent, were disputing together, and vindicating their respective opinions, and they should happen to instance in a house, they would agree that it was built by an architect. Their difference concerning necessity and freedom, would occasion no difference of judgment concerning..this, but only concerning another matter, whether the architect built it necessarily or freely. Suppose then they should proceed to inquire concerning the constitution of nature: in a lax way of speaking, one of them might say, it was by necessity, and the other by freedom; but if they had any meaning to their words, as the latter must mean a free agent, so the former must at length be reduced to mean an agent, whether he would say one or more, acting by necessity; for abstract notions can do nothing. Indeed, we ascribe to God a necessary existence, uncaused by any agent. For we find within ourselves the idea of infinity, i. e. immensity and eternity, impossible, even in imagination, to be removed out of being. We seem to discern intuitively, that there must, and cannot but be somewhat, external to ourselves, answering this idea, or the archetype of it. And from hence (for this absiract, as much as any other, implies a concrete) we con- clude, that there is, and cannot but be, an infinite and immense * CHAP. VI. | AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. : 167 eternal Being existing, prior to all design contributing to his existence, and exclusive of it.* And from the scantiness of language, a manner of speaking has been introduced, that necessity is the foundation, the reason, the account of the existence of God. But it is not alleged, nor can it be at all intended, that every thing exists as it does by this kind of necessity, a necessity antecedent in nature to design ; it cannot, I say, be meant, that every thing exists as it does, by this kind of necessity, upon several accounts; and particularly, because it is admitted that design, in the actions of men, contributes to many alterations in nature.. For if any deny this, I shall not pretend to reason with them. From these things it follows, first, That when a fatalist asserts that every thing is by necessity, he must mean, by an agent acting necessarily: he must, I say, mean this; for I am very | sensible he would not choose to mean it: and secondly, That the necessity by which such an agent is supposed to act, does not exclude intelligence and design. So that were the system of fatality admitted, it would just as much account for the for- mation of the world, as for the structure of a house, and no more. Necessity as much requires and supposes a necessary agent, as freedom requires and supposes a free agent to be the| former of the world. And the appearances of design and of Jinal causes in the constitution of nature, as really prove this acting agent to be an intelligent designer, or to act from choice, upon the scheme of necessity, supposed possible, as upon that of freedom. It appearing thus, that the notion of necessity does not destroy the "proof, that there is an intelligent Author of Nature and natural Governor of the world, the present question, which the analogy before-mentioned} suggests, and which, I think, it will answer, is this: Whether the opinion of necessity, supposed consistent with possibility, with the constitution of the world, and the natural government which we experience exercised over it, destroys all reasonable ground of belief, that we are in a state of religion; or whether that opinion be reconcilable with religion, with the system and the proof of it. * (This argument is taken by Butler from Dr. Clarke. Like all of Clarke’s attempted demonstrations of the being of God, it has been closely scrutinized, and its validity questioned. See for instance Duke’s. Analysis of Butler’s Analogy, appendix, p. 83. ] f Page 165. 168 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I. Suppose then a fatalist to educate any one, from his youth up, in his own principles; that the child should reason upon them, and conclude, that sinve he cannot possibly behave other- wise than he does, he is not a subject of blame or commendation, nor can deserve to be rewarded or punished: imagine him to eradicate the very perceptions of blame and commendation out of his mind by means of this system; to form his temper, and character, and behaviour to it; and from it to judge of the treatment he was to expect, say, from reasonable men, upon his coming abroad into the world; as the fatalist judges from this system, what he is to expect from the Author of Nature, and with regard to a future state. I eannot forbear stopping here to ask, whether any one of common sense would think fit, that a child should be put upon these speculations, and be left to apply them to practice? And a man has little pretence to rea- son, who is not sensible that we are all children in speculations of this kind. However, the child would doubtless be highly delighted to find himself freed from the restraints of fear an shame, with which his playfellows were fettered and embar- rassed; and highly conceited in his superior knowledge, so far beyond his years. But conceit and vanity would be the least bad part of the influence which these principles must have, when thus reasoned and acted upon, during the course of his education. He must either be allowed to go on, and be the plague of all about him, and himself too, even to his own de- straction, or else correction must be continually made use of, to supply the want of those natural perceptions of blame and com- mendation, which we have supposed to be removed, and to give him a practical impression of what he had reasoned himself out of the belief of, that he was in fact an accountable child, and to be punished for doing what he was forbid. It is therefore in reality impossible, but that the correction which he must meet with in the course of his education, must convince him, that if the scheme he was instructed in were not false, yet that he reasoned inconclusively upon it, and, somehow or other, misapplied it to practice and common life; as what the fatalist experiences of the conduct of Providence_at present ought, in all reason, to convince him, that his scheme is misapplied, when applied to the subject of religion.* But supposing the child’s temper could remain still formed to the system Ta his expectation of the IF rr) * Page 163. CHAP. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 169 treatment he was to have in the world be regulated by it, so as to expect that no reasonable man would blame or punish him for anything he should do, because he could not help doing it ; upon this supposition, it is manifest he would, upon his coming abroad into the world, be insupportable to society, and the treat- ment which he would receive from it, would render it so to him ; and he could not fail of doing somewhat very soon, for which he would be delivered over into the hands of civil justice. And thus, in the end, he would be convinced of the obligations he was under to his wise instructor. Or suppose this scheme of fatality, in any other way, applied to practice, such practical application of it will be found equally absurd, equally fallacious, in a practical sense: For instance, that if 2 man be destined to live such a time, he shall live to it, though he take no care of his own preservation; or if he be destined to die before that time, no care can prevent it; therefore all care about preserving one’s life is to be neglected; which is the fallacy mstanced in by the ancients. But now on the contrary, none of these prac- tical absurdities can be drawn, from reasoning upon the suppo- sition that we are free; but all such reasoning, with regard to the common affairs of life, is justified by.experience. And therefore, though it were admitted that this opinion of necessity were speculatively true, yet_with regard to practice, it is_as if it were false, so far. as.our experience reaches ; that is, to the whole of our present life. For, the constitution of the present world, and the condition in which we are actually placed, is as if we were free. And it may perhaps justly be concluded, that since the whole process of action, through every step of it, suspense, de- liberation, inclining one way, determining, and at last doing as we determine, is as if we were free, therefore we are so.* But * [Compare Berkeley’s Minute Philosopher, Dial. vil. s. 20:— <¢Bupur.—Tell me, Alciphron, do you think it involves a contradiction that God should make man free? Axnc.—I do not. Eupur.—lIt is then possible that there may be such a thing? Atc.—This I do not deny. . . Evpur.—Would not. such a one think that he acted, and condemn himself for some actions, and approve himself for others, &c. Tell me now, what other characters of your supposed free agent may not be found in man?” So Clarke, Remarks on Collins’ Inquiry, p. 24: ‘As to that which this gentleman calls the Fourth (but which is, indeed, the only) Action of man, viz., Doine as we will, or actually exerting this self-moving faculty. Of this I say, as before, that since, in all cases, it does now, by experience, seem to us to be free, that is, seems to us to be really a self-moving power, exactly in the same Le ~ 170 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I. the thing here insisted upon is, that under the present natural government of the world, we find we are treated and dealt with as if we were free, prior to all consideration whether we are or not. Were this opinion, therefore, of necessity, admitted to be ever so true, yet such is in fact our condition and the natural course of things, that whenever we apply it to life and practice, this application always misleads us, and cannot but mislead us, in a most dreadful manner, with regard to our present interest. And how can people think themselves so very secure then, that the same application of the same opinion may not mislead them ‘also, in some analogous manner, with respect to a future, a more ‘general, and more important interest? For, religion being a practical subject, and the analogy of nature showing us, that we have not faculties to apply this opinion, were it a true one, to practical subjects; whenever we do apply it to the subject of religion, and thence conclude that we are free from its obliga- tions, it is plain this conclusion cannot be depended upon. There will still remain just reason to think, whatever appear- ances are, that we deceive ourselves; in somewhat of a like manner as when people fancy they can draw contradictory con- clusions from the idea of infinity. From these things together, the attentive reader will see it follows, that if upon supposition of freedom, the evidence of re- ligion be conclusive, it remains so, upon supposition of neces- sity ; because the notion of necessity is not applicable to practical subjects; 1. e. with respect to them, is as if it were not true. Nor does this contain any reflection upon reason, but only upon what is unreasonable. For to pretend to act upon reason, in opposition to practical principles which the Author of our na- ture gave us to act upon, and to pretend to apply our reason to subjects, with regard to which our own short views, and even our experience, will show us it cannot be depended upon,—and such at best the subject of necessity must be,—this is vanity, conceit, and unreasonableness. | manner as it would do upon supposition of our being actually free agents; the bare physical possibility of our being so framed by the Author of Nature, as to be unavoidably deceived in this matter by every experience of every action we perform, is no more any just ground to doubt the truth of our liberty, than the bare natural possi- bility of our being all our life-time, as in a dream, deceived in our belief of the existence of the material world, is any just ground to doubt of the reality of its existence.” — F. ] CHAP. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. LFh But this is not all. For we find within ourselves a will, and are conscious of a character. Now if this in us be reconcilable f with fate, it is reconcilable with it in the Author of Nature.; And besides, natural government and final causes imply a cha-| racter and a will in the Governor and Designer ;* a will con- cerning the creatures whom he governs. The Author of Nature then being certainly of some character or other, not- withstanding necessity, it is evident this necessity is ag recon- cilable with the particular character of benevolence, veracity, and justice in him, which attributes are the foundation of reli: gion, as with any other character; since we find this necessity no more hinders men from being benevolent than cruel; true, than faithless; just, than unjust; or, if the fatalist pleases, what we call unjust. For it is said indeed, that what, upon supposition of freedom, would be just punishment, upon suppo- sition of necessity, becomes manifestly unjust; because it is punishment inflicted for doing that which persons could not avoid doing. As if the necessity, which is supposed to destroy the injustice of murder, for instance, would not also destroy the injustice of punishing it. However, as little to the purpose as this objection is in itself, it is very much to the purpose to observe from it, how the notions of justice and injustice remain, even whilst we endeavour to suppose them removed; how they force themselves upon the mind, even whilst we are making suppositions destructive of them: for there is not, perhaps, a man in the world, but would be ready to make this objection at first thought. But though it is most evident, that universal necessity, if it be reconcilable with any thing, is reconcilable with that charac- ter in the Author of Nature, which is the foundation of religion ; “Yet, does it not plainly destroy the proof, that he is of that character, and consequently the proof of religion?” By no means. For we find that happiness and misery are not our fate in any such sense as not to be the consequences of our behaviour, but that they are the consequences of it.t We find God exercises the same kind of government over us, with that which a father exercises over his children, and a civil magis- * By will and character is meant that, which, in speaking of men, we should express, not only by these words, but also by the words temper, taste, dispositions, practical principles; that whole JSrame of mind, Jrom whence we act in one manner rather than-another. f Chap. IL. 172 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I, trate over his subjects. Now, whatever becomes of abstract questions concerning liberty and necessity, it evidently appears to us, that veracity and justice must be the natural rule and measure of exercising this authority, or government, to a Being who can have no competitions, or interfering of interests, with his creatures and his subjects. * But as the doctrine of liberty, though we experience its truth, may be perplexed with difficulties which run up into the most abstruse of all speculations, and as the opinion of necessity seems to be the very basis upon which infidelity grounds itself, it may be of some use to offer a more particular proof of the obligations of religion, which may distinctly be shown not to be destroyed by this opinion. The proof from final causes of an intelligent Author of Na- ture is not affected by the opinion of necessity; supposing necessity a thing possible in itself, and reconcilable with the constitution of things.* And itis a matter of fact, independent on this or any other speculation, that he governs the world by the method of rewards and punishments ;} and also that he hath given us a moral faculty, by which we distinguish between ac- tions, and approve some as virtuous and of good desert, and dis- approve others as vicious and of ill desert.{ Now this moral discernment implies, in the notion of it, a rule of action, and a rule of a very peculiar kind; for it carries in it authority and a right of direction; authority in such a sense, as that we cannot depart from it without being self-condemned.§ And that the dictates of this moral faculty, which are by nature a rule to us, are moreover the laws of God, laws in a sense including sanc- tions, may be thus proved. Consciousness of a rule or guide of action, in creatures who are capable of considering it as given them by their Maker, not only raises immediately a sense of duty, but also a sense of security in following it, and of danger in deviating from it. A direction of the Author of Nature, given to creatures capable of looking upon it as such, is plainly a command from him: and a command from him neces- sarily includes in it, at least, an implicit promise in case of obedience, or threatening in case of disobedience. But then the sense or perception of good and ill desert,|| which is con- tained in the moral discernment, renders the sanction explicit, and makes it appear, as one may say, expressed. for since his * Page 165, Se. + Chap. IL. } Dissertation II. ¢ Sermon II. at the Rolls. || Dissertation IT. CHAP. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 173 method of government is to reward and punish actions, his having annexed to some actions an inseparable sense of good desert, and to others of ill, this surely amounts to declaring upon whom his punishments shall be inflicted, and his rewards be bestowed. For he must have given us this discernment and sense of things, as a presentiment of what is to be hereafter ; that is, by way of information beforehand, what we are finally to expect in this world. There is then most evident ground to think, that the government of God, upon the whole, will be found to correspond to the nature which he has given us, and that in the upshot and issue of things, happiness and misery shall, in fact and event, be made to follow virtue and vice re- spectively; as he has already, in so peculiar a manner, asso- ciated the ideas of them in our minds. And from hence might easily be deduced the obligations of religious worship, were it only to be considered as a means of preserving upon our minds a sense of this moral government of God, and securing our obe- dience to it; which yet is an extremely imperfect view of that most important duty. Now I say, no objection from necessity can lie against this general proof of religion: none against the proposition reason- ed upon, that we have such a moral faculty and discernment; because this is a mere matter of fact, a thing of experience, that human kind is thus constituted: none against the conclusion ; because it is immediate, and wholly from this fact. For the conclusion that God will finally reward the righteous and punish the wicked, is not here drawn, from its appearing to us fit* that * However I am far from intending to deny, that the will of God is determined by what is fit, by the right and reason of the case; though one chooses to decline matters of such abstract speculation, and to speak with caution when one does speak of them. But if it be intel- ligible to say, that 7¢ 7s fit and reasonable for every one to consult his own happiness, then fitness of action, or the right and reason of the case, is an intelligible manner of speaking. And it seems as inconceivable, to suppose God to approve one course of action, or one end, preferably to another, which yet his acting at all from design implies that he does, without supposing somewhat prior in that end, to be the ground of the preference; as to suppose him to discern an abstract proposi- tion to be true, without supposing somewhat prior to it to be the ground of the discernment. It doth not, therefore, appear, that moral right is any more relative to perception than abstract truth is; or that it is any more improper to speak of the fitness and rightness of actions and ends, as founded in the nature of things, thau to speak of abstract truth as thus founded. Lo* 174 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I. he should, but from its appearing, that he has told us he «ill. And this he hath certainly told us, inthe promise and threat- ening, which, it hath been observed, the notion of a command implies, and the sense of good and ill desert, which he has given us, more distinctly expresses. And this reasoning from fact is confirmed, and in some degree, even verified, by other facts; by the natural tendencies of virtue and of vice ;* and by this, that God, in the natural course of his providence, punishes vicious actions as mischievous to society, and also vicious actions as such, in the strictest sense. So that the general proof of reli- gion is unanswerably real, even upon the wild supposition which we are arguing upon. It must likewise be observed farther, that natural religion hath, besides this, an external evidence, which the doctrine of necessity, if it could be true, would not affect. For suppose a person, by the observations and reasoning above, or by any other, convinced of the truth of religion; that there is a God, who made the world, who is the moral Governor and Judge of mankind, and will, upon the whole, deal with every one accord- ing to his works; I say, suppose a person convinced of this by reason, but to know nothing at all of antiquity, or the present state of mankind, it would be natural for such a one to be in- quisitive, what was the history of this system of doctrine; at what time, and in what manner, it came first into the world; and whether it were believed by any considerable part of it. And were he upon inquiry to find, that a particular person, in a late age, first of all proposed it as a deduction of reason, and that mankind were before wholly ignorant of it; then, though its evidence from reason would remain, there would be no addi- tional probability of its truth, from the account of its discovery. But instead of this being the fact of the case, on the contrary, he would find what could not but afford him a very strong con- firmation of its truth: First, That somewhat of this system, with more or fewer additions and alterations, hath been profess- ed in all ages and countries of which we have any certain infor- mation relating to this matter. Secondly, That it is certain historical fact, so far as we can trace things up, that this whole system of belief, that there is one God, the Creator and moral Governor of the world, and that mankind is in a state of reli- gion, was received in the first ages. And thirdly, That as * Page 128 f+ Page, 121, &e. CHAP. VI. ] AS INFLUENCING PRAGEECE: 175 there is no hint or intimation in history, that this system was first reasoned out; so there is express historical or traditional evidence, as ancient as history, that it was taught first by reve- lation. Now these things must be allowed to be of great weight. The first of them, general consent, shows this system to be con- formable to the common sense of mankind. The second, name- ly, that religion was believed in the first ages of the world, especially as it does not appear that there were then any super- stitious or false additions to it, cannot but be a farther confirma- tion of its truth. For it is a proof of this alternative; either that it came into the world by revelation, or that it is natural, obvious, and forces itself upon the mind. ‘The former of these is the conclusion of learned men. And whoever will consider, how unapt for speculation rude and uncultivated minds are, will, perhaps from hence alone, be strongly inclined to believe it the truth. And as itis shown in the second part* of this Treatise, that there is nothing of such peculiar presumption against a revelation in the beginning of the world, as there is supposed to be against subsequent ones; a sceptic could not, 1 think, give any account, which would appear more probable | even to himself, of the early pretences to revelation, than by supposing some real original one, from whence they were copied. And the third thing above-mentioned, that there is express his- torical or traditional evidence, as ancient as history, of the sys- tem of religion being taught mankind by revelation; this must be admitted as some degree of real proof, that it was so taught. For why should not the most ancient tradition be admitted as some additional proof of a fact, against which there is no pre- sumption? And this proof is mentioned here, because it has its weight to show, that religion came into the world by revela- tion, prior to all consideration, of the proper authority of any book supposed to contain it; and even prior to all considera- tion, whether the revelation itself be uncorruptly handed down and related, or mixed and darkened with fables. Thus the historical account which we have, of the origin of religion, taking in all circumstances, is a real confirmation of its truth, no way affected by the opinion of necessity. And the ex- ternal evidence, even of natural religion, is by no means incon- siderable. But it is carefully to be observed, and ought to be recollected * Chap. 2. 176 OF "ge OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART I. after all proofs of virtue and religion, which are only general, that as speculative reason may be neglected, prejudiced, and deceived, so also may our moral understanding be impaired and perverted, and the dictates of it not impartially attended to. This indeed proves nothing against the reality of our speculative or practical faculties of perception ; against their being intended by nature to inform us in the theory of things, and instruct us how we are to behave, and what we are to expect, in conse- quence of our behaviour. Yet our liableness, in the degree we are liable, to prejudice and perversion, is a most serious admo- nition to us to be upon our guard, with respect to what is of such consequence, as our determinations concerning virtue and religion ; and particularly not to take custom, and fashion, and slight notions of honour, or imaginations of present ease, use, and convenience to mankind, for the only moral rule.* The foregoing observations, drawn from the nature of the thing, and the history of religion, amount, when taken together, to a real practical proof of it, not to be confuted; such a proof as, considering the infinite importance of the thing, I apprehend would be admitted fully sufficient, in reason, to influence the actions of men, who act upon thought and reflection; if it were admitted that there is no proof of the contrary. But it may be said; “There are many probabilities, which cannot indeed be confuted ; i. e. shown to be no probabilities, and yet may be overbalanced by greater probabilities on the other side; much more by demonstration. And there is no occasion to object against particular arguments alleged for an opinion, when the opinion itself may be clearly shown to be false, without med- dling with such arguments at all, but leaving them just as they are.t Now the method of government by rewards and punish- ments, and especially rewarding and punishing good and ill desert, as such, respectively, must go upon supposition, that we are free, and not necessary agents.{ And it is incredible, that the Author of Nature should govern us upon a supposition as true, which he knows to be false; and therefore absurd to think he will reward or punish us for our actions hereafter ; especially that he will do it under the notion, that they are of good or ill desert.’? Here then, the matter is brought to a point. And the answer to all this is full, and not to be evaded: that the toto sg SSDS Dh erp obee 94" OF Uke oda Se Ee * Dissertation 2. 7 Page 83, 89. T See note at the end of this chapter. CHAP. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACHIGE. 177 whole constitution and course of things, the whole analogy of providence shows, beyond possibility of doubt, that the conclu- sion from this reasoning is false, wherever the fallacy lies, The doctrine of freedom indeed clearly shows where—in supposing ourselves. necessary, when in truth we are free agents. But upon the supposition of necessity, the fallacy lies in taking for granted, that it is incredible necessary agents should be rewarded and punished. But that, somehow or other, the conclusion now mentioned is false, is most certain. For it is fact, that God “’ does govern even brute creatures by the method of rewards * and punishments, in the natural course of things. And men ~ are rewarded and punished for their actions, punished for actions mischievous to society as being so, punished for vicious actions as such, by the natural instrumentality of each other, under the present conduct of Providence. Nay even the affection of gratitude, and the passion of resentment, and the rewards and punishments following from them, which in general are to be considered as natural, i. e. from the Author of Na- ture : these rewards and punishments, being naturally* annexed to actions considered as implying good intention and good desert, ill intention and ill desert; these natural rewards and punish- ments, I say, are as much a contradiction to the conclusion above, and show its falsehood, as a more exact and complete rewarding and punishing of good and ill desert, as such. So that if it be incredible that necessary agents should be thus rewarded and punished, then men are not necessary, but free; since it is matter of fact that they are thus rewarded and punished. But if on the contrary, which is the supposition we have been arguing upon, it be insisted, that men are necessary agents, then there is nothing incredible in the farther supposition of necessary agents being thus rewarded and punished ; ‘since we ourselves are thus dealt with. From the whole, therefere, it must follow, that a necessity supposed possible, and reconcilable with the constitution of things, does in no sort prove, that the Author of Nature will not, nor destroy the proof that he will, finally and upon the whole, in his eternal government, render his creatures happy or miserable, by some means or other, as they behave well or ill. Or, to express this conclusion in words conformable to the title of the chapter, the analogy of nature shows us, that the opinion * Sermon 8th at the Rolls. es: 178 Of THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PART L. of necessity, considered as practical, is false. And if necessity, upon the supposition above-mentioned, doth not destroy the proof of natural religion, it evidently makes no alteration in the proof of revealed. | From these things likewise we may learn, in what sense to understand that general assertion, that the opmion of necessity is essentially destructive of all religion. First, In a practical sense; that by this notion atheistical men pretend to satisfy and encourage themselves in vice, and justify to others their disregard to all religion. And secondly, In the strictest sense 5 that it is a contradiction to the whole constitution of nature, and to what we may every moment experience in ourselves, and so overturns every thing. But by no means is this assertion to be understood, as if necessity, supposing it could possibly be reconciled with the constitution of things, and with what we experience, were not also reconcilable with religion; for upon this supposition it demonstrably is so. —_—— [Norz.—See page 176. ] [We must carefully distinguish between the religious and the irre- ligious necessitarians. The question between the maintainers of free will and the religious necessitarian is this: When I blame [or com- mend] myself for an action, is there necessarily involved in this moral judgment, the consciousness that, under all the circumstances pre- ceding the act of volition, I might have willed otherwise? The religious necessitarian holds the negative; the maintainer of free will, the affir- mative; and the irreligious fatalists so far agree with the latter. They say that the sense or persuasion of liberty is requisite to constitute the sense of responsibility for the past,—requisite as a ground of hope or purpose for the future; that, without it, there would be no room for remorse for what we have done, or forethought for what we should do. But then they maintain also, that this feeling is delusive ; that it may be demonstrated to be a mistake; and that, consequently, here is a conflict between the rational and the moral principles of our nature. Such a scheme is essentially sceptical, representing the im- mediate judgments of the mind as contradictory of each other. It represents the mind as pronouncing certain volitions, when viewed under a speculative aspect, to fall under the law of cause and effect ; and yet, pronouncing the same volitions, when viewed under a prac- tical aspect, to be exempt from it. Now, upon such a scheme, as there is a direct conflict between the independent decisions of our own consciousness, it seems clear that we have no more right to pronounce the moral judgment delusive, than the ration]. Each would be brought equally into doubt if this state- ment were correct. But, even upon this statement, the obligations ee. -@ CHAP. VI. | AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. — 179 true : which delusive; but still it is not, and cannot be a matter of indifference which of the two I practically follow: because, if I act in disregard of the moral consciousness, I am, by the very hypothesis, self-condemned. The moral faculty is the practical faculty; and, when the question is what is to be done?—I am in the sphere of action, not of speculation. Reason, in her province, may refuse to register the decree, but she does not, for she cannot, superinduce a contrary practical obligation. The doctrine of necessity, in its religious form, takes this expres- sion:—that moral acts of the will are determined by their motives (meaning by motives all that is the result of temper, organization, education, and outward circumstances), as certainly as physical con- sequences are by their antecedents; but that the acts which proceed from certain classes of motives are approved or condemned by the moral faculty, as being the results of certain motives, without the implied intervention of any such consciousness of freedom as the maintainers of the liberty of the will suppose. —F. ] of a will remain. I know not, suppose, which judgment is 180 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PART I. + "* CHAP. VII. © Of the Government of God, considered as a Scheme or Con- stitution, imperfectly comprehended. THOUGH it be, as it cannot but be, acknowledged, that the analogy of nature gives a strong credibility to the general doc- trine of religion, and to the several particular things contained in it, considered as so many matters of fact; and likewise that it shows this credibility not to be destroyed by any notions of necessity ; yet still, objections may be insisted upon against the wisdom, equity, and goodness of the divine government, implied in the notion of religion, and against the method by which this government is conducted, to which objections analogy can be no direct answer.* or the credibility, or the certain truth, of a matter of fact, docs not immediately prove any thing concerning the wisdom or goodness of it; and analogy can do no more, immediately or directly, than show such and such things to be true or credible, considered only as matters of fact. But still, if, upon supposition of a moral constitution of nature and a moral government over it, analogy suggests and makes it credi- ble, that this government must be a scheme, system or constitu- tion of government, as distinguished from a number of single unconnected acts of distributive justice and goodness; and like- * [It is obvious that the direct way of showing a certain course of conduct to be wise or good, is to show the precise relations which ren- der it so; the goodness of the ends and the suitability of the means. The indirect way is to show that there may be such relations, though we do not see them, coupled with the proof that such a course of conduct is the conduct of one whom we haye good reason, on other grounds, to believe wise and good. Indeed, there have not been wanting persons who have chosen to represent Butler’s argument, throughout this analogy, as tending to overthrow the whole proof of God’s attributes of justice, wisdom, and goodness, by establishing the matter of fact of our being under a goverment no way consistent with such attributes. The object of the present chapter is to obviate such a misrepresentation. Compare throughout, P. 11. chap. viii. — F. ] CHAP. VII. | A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 181 wise that it must be a scheme, so imperfectly comprehended, and of such a sort in other respects, as to afford a direct general answer to all objections against the justice and goodness of it; then analogy is, remotely, of great service in answering those objections, both by suggesting the answer, and showing it to be a credible one. Now this, upon inquiry, will be found to -be the case. For, jirst, Upon supposition that God exercises a moral government over the world, the analogy of his natural government suggests, and makes it credible, that his moral government must be a scheme quite beyond our comprehension ; and this affords a gen- eral answer to all objections against the justice and goodness of it. And, secondly, A more distinct observation of some par- ticular things contained in God’s scheme of natural government, the like things being supposed, by analogy, to be contained in his moral government, will farther show how little weight is te be laid upon these objections. I. Upon supposition that God exercises a moral government over the world, the analogy of his natural government suggests and makes it credible, that his moral government must be a scheme quite beyond our comprehension: and this affords a general answer to all objections against the justice and goodness of it. It is most obvious, analogy renders it highly credible, that upon supposition of a moral government it must be a scheme, — for the world, and the whole natural government of it, appears to be so—to be a scheme, system, or constitution, whose parts correspond to each other, and to a whole, as really as any work of art, or as any particular model of a civil consti- tution and government. In this great scheme of the natural world, individuals have various peculiar relations to other in- dividuals of their own species. And whole species are, we find, variously related to other species, upon this earth. Nor do we know how much farther these kinds of relations may extend. And as there is not any action, or natural event, which we are acquainted with, so single and unconnected as not to have a respect to some other actions and events; so possibly each of them, when it has not an immediate, may yet have a remote natural relation to other actions and events, much beyond the compass of this present world. There seems indeed nothing, from whence we can so much as make a con- jecture, whether all creatures, actions, and events, throughout the whole of nature, have relations to each other. But, as it is 16 - 182 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PART T. obvious that all events have future unknown consequences, so if we trace any, as far as we can go, into what is connected with it, we shall find, that if such event were not connected with somewhat farther in nature unknown to us, somewhat both past and present, such event could not possibly have been at all. Nor can we give the whole account of any one thing whatever ; of all its causes, ends, and necessary adjuncts; those adjuncts, I mean, without which it could not have been. By this most astonishing connexion, these reciprocal correspondencies and mu- tual relations, every thing which we see in the course of nature, is actually brought about. And things, seemingly the most insignificant imaginable, are perpetually observed to be neces- sary conditions to other things of the greatest importance; so that any one thing whatever may, for aught we know to the contrary, be a necessary condition to any other. The natural world then, and natural government of it, being such an incom- prehensible scheme; so incomprehensible, that a man must really in the literal sense know nothing at all, Who is not sensible of his ignorance in it: this immediately suggests, and strongly shows the credibility, that the moral world and govern- ment of it may be so too. Indeed, the natural and moral con- stitution and government of the world are so connected as to make up together but one scheme: and it is highly probable, that the first is formed and carried on merely in subserviency to the latter, as the vegetable world is for the animal, and organ- ized bodies for minds. But the thing intended here is, without inquiring how far the administration of the natural world is subordinate to that of the moral, only to observe the credibility, that one should be analogous or similar to the other: that there- fore, every act of divine justice and goodness may be supposed to look much beyond itself and its immediate object; may have some reference to other parts of God’s moral administration, and to a general moral plan; and that every circumstance of this his moral government may be adjusted beforehand with a view to the whole of it. Thus for example: the determined length of time, and the degrees and ways in which virtue is to remain in a state of warfare and discipline, and in which wick- edness is permitted to have its progress; the times appointed for the execution of justice; the appointed instruments of it; the kinds of rewards and punishments, and the manners of their distribution ; all particular instances of divine justice and good- ness, and every circumstance of them, may have such respects « "7, CHAP. VII. | A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 1838 to each other, as to make up altogether a whole, connected and related in all its parts; a scheme, or system, which is as pro- perly one as the natural world is, and of the like kind. And supposing this to be the case, it is most evident that we are not competent judges of this scheme, from the small parts of it which come within our view in the present life; and therefore no objections against any of these parts can be insisted upon by reasonable men. This our ignorance, and the consequence here drawn from it, are universally acknowledged upon other occasions; and though scarce denied, yet are universally forgot, when persons come to argue against religion. And itis not perhaps easy, even for the most reasonable men, always to bear in mind the degree of our ignorance, and make due allowances for it. Upon these accounts, it may not be useless to go on a little farther, in order to show more distinctly, how just an answer our ignorance Is, to objections against the scheme of Providence. Suppose then a person boldly to assert, that the things complained of, the origin and continuance of evil, might easily have been prevented by repeated interpositions ;* interpositions so guarded and circum- stanced, as would preclude all mischief arising from them; or, if this were impracticable, that a scheme of government is itself an imperfection; since more good might have been produced without any scheme, system, or constitution at all, by continued single unrelated acts of distributive justice and goodness; be- cause these would have occasioned no irregularities. And far- ther than this, it is presumed, the objections will not be carried. Yet the answer is obvious; that were these assertions true, still the observations above, concerning our ignorance in the scheme of divine government, and the consequence drawn from it, would hold in great measure, enough to vindicate religion against all objections from the disorders of the present state. Were these assertions true, yet the government of the world might be just and good notwithstanding: for at the most, they would infer nothing more, than that it might have been better. But in- deed they are mere arbitrary assertions; no man being sufhi- ciently acquainted with the possibilities of things, to bring any proof of them to the lowest degree of probability. or however possible what is asserted may seem, yet many instances may be alleged, in things much less out of our reach, of suppositions absolutely impossible, and reducible to the most palpable self- * See page 185, 186. 184 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PART I. contradictions, which not every one by any means would per- ceive to be such, nor perhaps any one at first sight suspect. From these things it is easy to see distinctly, how our igno- rance, as it is the common, is really a satisfactory answer to all objections against the justice and goodness of Providence. If a man, contemplating any one providential dispensation, which had no relation to any others, should object, that he discerned in it a disregard to justice, or a deficiency of goodness, nothing would be less an answer to such objection, than our ignorance in other parts of Providence, or in the possibilities of things, no way related to what he was contemplating. But when we know not but the parts objected against may be relative to other parts unknown to us, and when we are unacquainted with what is, in the nature of the thing, practicable in the case before us, then our ignorance is a satisfactory answer; because some unknown relation, or some unknown impossibility, may render what is objected against just and good; nay, good in the highest prac- ticable degree. Ii. And how little weight is to be laid upon such objections will further appear, by a more distinct observation of some par- ticular things contained in the natural government of God, the like to which may be supposed, from analogy, to be contained in his moral government. First, As in the scheme of the natural world, no ends appears to be accomplished without means; so we find that means very undesirable often conduce to bring about ends, in such a measure desirable, as greatly to overbalance the disagreeableness of the means. And in cases where such means are conducive to such ends, it is not reason, but experience, which shows us that they are thus conducive. Experience also shows many means to be conducive and necessary to accomplish ends, which means, before experience, we should have thought would have had even a con- trary tendency. Now from these observations relating to the natural scheme of the world, the moral being supposed analo- gous to it, arises a great credibility, that the putting our misery in each other’s power to the degree it is, and making men liable to vice, to the degree we are; and in general, that those things which are objected against the moral scheme of Providence, may be, upon the whole, friendly and assistant to virtue, and productive of an overbalance of happiness; i. e. the things ob- jected against, may be means by which an overbalance of good will, in the end, be found produced. And from the same obser- CHAP. VII.} A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 185 vations, it appears to be no presumption against this, that we do not, if indeed we do not, see those means to have any such ten- dency, or that they seem to us to have a contrary one. Thus those things, which we call irregularities, may not be so at all; because they may be means of accomplishing wise and good ends more considerable. And it may be added, as above, that they may also be the only means by which these wise and good ends are capable of being accomplished. After these observations it may be proper to add, in order to obviate an absurd and wicked conclusion from any of them, that though the constitution of our nature, from whence we are capable of vice and misery, may, as it undoubtedly does, contri- bute to the perfection and happiness of the world ; and though the actual permission of evil may be beneficial to it, (1. é. it would have been more mischievous, not that a wicked person had himself abstained from his own wickedness, but that any one had forcibly prevented it, than that it was permitted) ; yet notwithstanding, it might have been much better for the world if this very evil had never been done. N ay it is most clearly con- ceivable, that the very commission of wickedness may be beue- ficial to the world, and yet that it would be infinitely more beneficial for men to refrain from it. For thus, in the wise and good constitution of the natural world, there are disorders which bring their own cures; diseases, which are themselves remedies. Many a man would have died, had it not been for the gout or a | fever ; yet it would be thought madness to assert, that sickness | is a better or more perfect state than health ;> though the like, | with regard to the moral world, has been asserted. But, Secondly, The natural government of the world is carried on by general laws. “For'this there may be wise and good reasons : the wisest and best, for aught we know to the contrary. And that there are such reasons, is suggested to our thoughts by the analogy of nature; by our being madé- t6“experience good ends to be accomplished, as indeed all the good which we enjoy is accomplished, by this means, that the laws by which the world is governed, are general. For we have scarce any kind of enjoyments, but what we are, in some way or other, instru- mental in procuring ourselves, by acting in a manner which we foresee likely to procure them: now this foresight could not be at all, were not the government of the world carried on by ’ general laws. And though, for aught we know to the contrary, every single case may be at length found to have been pro- 16 186 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PART L vided for even by these; yet to prevent all irregularities, or remedy them as they arise, by the wisest and best general laws, may be impossible in the nature of things, as we see it 18 abso- lutely impossible in civil government. But then we are ready to think, that the constitution of nature remaining as it is, and the course of things being permitted to go on, in other respects, as it does, there might be interpositions to prevent irregulari- ties, though they could not have been prevented or remedied by any general laws. And there would indeed be reason to wish—which, by the way, is very different from a right to claim—that all irregularities were prevented or remedied by present interpositions, if these interpositions would haye no other effect than this. But it is plain they would have some visible and immediate bad effects; for instance, they would: encourage idleness and negligence, and they would render doubtful the natural rule of life, which is ascertained by this very thing, that the course of the world is carried on by general laws. And farther, it is certain they would have distant effects, and very great ones too, by means of the wonderful connexions before-mentioned.* So that we cannot so much as guess what would be the whole result of the interpositions desired. It may be said, any bad result might be prevented by farther interposi- tions, whenever there was occasion for them; but this again is talking quite at random, and in the dark.f Upon the whole then, we see wise reasons why the course of the world should be carried on by general laws, and good ends accomplished by this means; and for aught we know, there may be the wisest reasons for it, and the best ends accomplished by it. We have no ground to believe, that all irregularities could be remedied as they arise, or could have been precluded by general laws. We find that interpositions would produce evil, and prevent good; and for aught we know, they would produce greater evil than they would prevent, and prevent greater good than they would produce. And if this be the case, then the not interpo- sing is so far from being a ground of complaint, that it is an instance of goodness. ‘his is intelligible and sufficient; and going farther seems beyond the utmost reach of our faculties. But it may be said, “ that after all, these supposed impossi- bilities and relations are what we are unacquainted with; and we must judge of religion, as of other things, by what we do know, and look upon the rest as nothing; or however, that the * Page 181, &e. + Page 188, 184. CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 187 answers here given to what is objected against religion, may equally be made use of to invalidate the proof of it, since their stress es so very much upon our ignorance.” But, Hirst, Though total ignorance, in any matter, does indeed equally destroy, or rather preclude, all proof concerning it, and objections against it, yet partial ignorance does not. For we may in any degree be convinced, that a person is of such a cha- racter, and consequently will pursue such ends, though we are greatly ignorant what is the proper way of acting, in order the most effectually to obtain those ends; and in this case, objec- tions against his manner of acting, as seemingly not conducive to obtain them, might be answered by our ignorance, though the proof that such ends were intended, might not at all be in- validated by it.* Thus the proof of religion is a proof of the moral character of God, and consequently, that his government is moral, and that every one upon the whole shall receive ac- cording to his deserts; a proof that this is the designed end of his government. But we are not competent judges what is the proper way of acting, in order the most effectually to accomplish this end.f Therefore our ignorance is an answer to objections against the conduct of Providence, in permitting irregularities, as seeming contradictory to this end. Now, since it is so ob- vious that our ignorance may be a satisfactory answer to objec- * [The concluding observations of this chapter are all-important for the vindication of Butler’s whole argument. They show most satisfactorily how our ignorance may invalidate the objections against, and yet not invalidate the proof of, the thing. The essence of the reasoning here lies in the distinction between our knowledge of God’s will and our knowledge of His ways. We have positive proof of His moral character, in virtue of which He wills both the righteousness and the happiness of His creatures; and yet may be utterly in the dark as to the most effectual ways or methods of procedure by which these objects can be most fully accomplished. We may know the end, and yet not know the best means of bringing it about. A total ignorance would place both the objections and the proof alike beyond our reach, but a partialignorance may not. (God’s wisdom may be learned by its vestiges within the limits of a mere handbreath, as in the construction of an eye; yet, after having learned this, we may fail in our judgment of the subserviency of things that go out and far from view, whether widely in space or distantly in time. And so within the homestead of one’s own conscience may we read the lesson of a righteous God, and yet be wholly unable to pronounce on the tendency or effect of those measures which enter into the policy of His universal government.— Chalmers. ] t Page 88, 89. 188 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PART I. tions against a thing, and yet not affect the proof of it; till it can be shown, it is frivolous to assert, that our ignorance inva- lidates the proof of religion, as it does the objections against it. Secondly, Suppose unknown impossibilities, and unknown relations, might justly be urged to invalidate the proof of reli- gion, as well as to answer objections against it, and that in consequence of_this the proof of it were doubtful; yet still, let the assertion be despised, or let it be ridiculed, it is undeniably true, that moral obligations would remain certain, though it were not certain what would, upon the whole be the conse- quences of observing or violating them. For these obligations arise immediately and necessarily from the judgment of our own mind, unless perverted, which we cannot violate without being self-condemned. And they would be certain too, from consi- derations of interest. For, though it were doubtful what will be the future consequences of virtue and vice, yet it is however credible that they may have those consequences which religion teaches us they will; and this credibility is a certain* obliga- tion in point of prudence, to abstain from all wickedness, and to live in the conscientious practice of all that is good. But, Thirdly, The answers above given to the objections against religion, cannot equally be made use of to invalidate the proof of it. For, upon the supposition that God exercises a moral government over the world, analogy does most strongly lead us to conclude, that this moral government must be a scheme, or constitution, beyond our comprehension. And a thousand par- ticular analogies show us, that parts of such a scheme, from their relation to other parts, may conduce to accomplish ends, which we should have thought they had no tendency at all to accomplish ; nay ends, which, before experience, we should have thought such parts were contradictory to, and had a tendency to prevent. And therefore all these analogies show, that the way of arguing made use of in objecting against religion is de- lusive ; because they show it is not at all incredible, that, could we comprehend the whole, we should find the permission of the disorders objected against, to be consistent with justice and goodness, and even to be instances of them. Now this is not applicable to the proof of religion, as it is to the objections against it;+ and therefore cannot invalidate that proof, as it does these objections. * Page 84, and Part II. chap. vi. 7 Sermons at the Rolls, p. 312, 2d Edit. CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREIIENSIBLE. 189 Lastly, From the observations now made, it is easy to see, that the answers above given to the objections against Provi- dence, though, in a general way of speaking, they may be said to be taken from our ignorance, yet are by no means taken merely from that, but from somewhat which analogy shows us concerning it. or analogy shows us positively, that our igno- rance in the possibilities of things, and the various relations in nature, renders us incompetent judges, and leads us to false conclusions, in cases similar to this, in which we pretend to judge and to object. So that the things above insisted upon, are not mere suppositions of unknown impossibilities and rela- tions; but they are suggested to our thoughts, and even forced upon the observation of serious men, and rendered credible too, by the analogy of nature. And therefore, to take these things into the account, is to judge by experience, and what we do know; and it is not judging so, to take no notice of them. 190 CONCLUSION. [PART I. CONCLUSION. THE observations of the last chapter lead us to consider this little scene of human life, in which we are so busily engaged, as having a reference, of some sort or other, to a much larger plan of thimgs. Whether we are any way related to the more distant parts of the boundless universe into which we are brought, is altogether uncertain. But it is evident, that the course of things, which comes within our view, is connected with some- what past, present, and future, beyond it.* So that we are placed, as one may speak, in the middle of a scheme, not a fixed, but a progressive one, every way incomprehensible; incom- prehensible in a manner, equally with respect to what has been, what now is, and what shall be hereafter. And this scheme cannot but contain in it somewhat as wonderful, and as much beyond our thought and conception,+ as any thing in that of religion. For, will any man in his senses say, that it is less difficult to conceive how the world came to be, and to continue as it is, without, than with, an intelligent Author and Governor of it? or, admitting an intelligent Governor of it, that there is some other rule of government more natural, and of easier con- ception, than that which we call moral? Indeed, without an intelligent Author and Governor of Nature, no account at all can be given, how this universe, or the part of it particularly in which we are concerned, came to be, and the course of it to be carried on as it is; nor any of its general end and design, with- out a moral Governor of it. That there is an intelligent Author of Nature, and natural Governor of the world, is a principle gone upon in the foregoing treatise, as proved, and generally known and confessed to be proved.. And the very notion of an intelligent Author of Nature, proved by particular final causes, implies a will and a character.{ Now as our whole nature, the nature which he has given us, leads us to conclude his will and character to be moral, just, and good; so we can scarce in ima- gination conceive what it can be otherwise. However, in conse- quence of this his will and character, whatever it be, he formed * Pages 181, 182. 7 See Part ii. Chap. 2. t Page 171. PART I.] CONCLUSION. 191 the universe as it is, and carries on the course of it as he does, rather than in any other manner; and has assigned to us, and to all diving creatures, a part and a lot in it. Irrational crea- tures act this their part, and enjoy and undergo the pleasures and the pains allotted them, without any reflection. But one would think it impossible, that creatures endued with reason could avoid reflecting sometimes upon all this; reflecting, if not from whence we came, yet at least, whither we are going, and what the mysterious scheme in the midst of which we find our- selves, will at length come out and produce; a scheme in which it is certain we are highly interested, and in which we may be interested even beyond conception. For many things prove it palpably absurd to conclude, that we shall cease to be at death. Particular analogies do most sensibly show us, that there is nothing to be thought strange in our being to exist in another state of life. And that we are now living beings, affords a strong probability that we shall continue so; unless there be some positive ground, and there is none from reason or analogy, to think death will destroy us. Were a persuasion of this kind ever so well grounded, there would surely be little reason to take pleasure in it. But indeed, it can have no other ground than some such imagination, as that of our gross bodies being ourselves; which is contrary to experience. Experience too, most clearly shows us the folly of concluding from the body and the living agent affecting each other mutually, that the dissolution of the former is the destruction of the latter. And there are remarkable instances of their not affecting each other, which lead us to a contrary conclusion. The supposition then, which in all reason we are to go upon, is, that our living nature will continue after death. -And it is infinitely unreasonable, to form an institution of life, or to act upon any other supposition. Now all expectation of immortality, whether more or less cer- tain, opens an unbounded prospect to our hopes and our fears; since we see the constitution of nature is such as to admit of misery, as well as to be productive of happiness, and experience ourselves to partake of both in some degree; and since we can- not but know what higher degrees of both we are capable of. And there is no presumption against believing farther, that our future interest depends upon our present behaviour; for we see our present interest doth; and that the happiness and misery, which are naturally annexed to our actions, very frequently do not follow till long after the actions are done to which they are 192 CONCLUSION. [PART I. respectively annexed. So that were speculation to leave us uncertain, whether it were likely that the Author of Nature, in giving happiness and misery to his creatures, hath regard to their actions or not; yet, since we find by experience that he hath such regard, the whole sense of things which he has given us, plainly leads us at once, and without any elaborate inquiries, to think that it may, indeed must, be to good actions chiefly that he hath annexed happiness, and to bad actions misery; or that he will, upon the whole, reward those who do well, and punish those who do evil. ‘fo confirm this from the constitution of the world, it has been observed, that some sort of moral goverment is necessarily implied in that natural government of God which we experience ourselves under; that good and bad actions, at present, are naturally rewarded and punished, not only as bene- ficial and mischievous to society, but also as virtuous and vicious; and that there is, in the very nature of the thing, a tendency to their being rewarded and punished in a much higher degree than they are at present. And though this higher degree of distributive justice, which nature thus points out and leads towards, is prevented for a time from taking place, it is by obsta- cles which the state of this world unhappily throws in its way, and which therefore are in their nature temporary. Now as these things, in the natural conduct of Providence, are observa- ble on the side of virtue, so there is nothing to be set against them on the side of vice. A moral scheme of government then is visibly established, and in some degree carried into execution ; and this, together with the essential tendencies of virtue and vice duly considered, naturally raise in us an apprehension, that it will be carried on farther towards perfection in a future state, and that every one shall there receive according to his deserts. And if this be so, then our future and general interest, under the moral government of God, is appointed to depend upon our beliaviour, notwithstanding the difficulty which this may occasion of securing it, and the danger of losing it; just in the same manzer as our temporal interest, under his natural government, is appointed to depend upon our behaviour, notwithstanding the like difficulty and danger. For, from our originai constitution, and that of the world which we inhabit, we are naturally trusted with ourselves, with our own conduct, and our own interest. And from the same constitution of nature, especially joined with that course of things which is owing to men, we have tempta- tions to be unfaithful in this trust, to forfeit this interest, to eu = a) a yah oy — PART I.] CONCLUSION. 198 neglect it, and run ourselves into misery and ruin. From these temptations arise the difficulties of behaving so as to secure our temporal interest, and the hazard of behaving so as to miscarry in it. There is therefore nothing incredible in supposing, there may be the like difficulty and hazard with regard to that chief and final good which religion lays before us. Indeed the whole account, how it came to pass that we were placed in such a con- dition as this, must be beyond our comprehension. But it is in part accounted for by what religion teaches us, that the character of virtue and piety must be a necessary qualification for a future state of security and happiness, under the moral government of God; in like manner, as some certain qualifications or other are necessary for every particular condition of life, under his natural government; and that the present state was intended to be a school of discipline, for improving in ourselves that charac- ter. Now this intention of nature is rendered highly credible by observing; that we are plainly made for improvement of all kinds; that it is a general appointment of Providence, that we cultivate practical principles, and form within ourselves habits of action, in order to become fit for what we were wholly unfit for before; that in particular, childhood and youth is naturally appointed to be a state of discipline for mature age: and that the present world is peculiarly fitted for a state of moral dis- cipline. And, whereas objections are urged against the whole notion of moral government and a probation-state, from the opinion of necessity, it has been shown, that God has given us the evidence, as it were of experience, that all objections against religion on this head are vain and delusive. He has also, in his natural government, suggested an answer to all our. short- sighted objections against the equity and goodness of his moral government, and in general he has exemplified to us the latter by the former. These things, which, it is to be remembered, are matters of fact, ought in all common sense, to awaken mankind, to induce them to consider in earnest their condition, and what they have to do. It is absurd—absurd to the degree of being ridiculous, if the subject were not of so serious a kind, for men to think themselves secure in a vicious life, or even in that immoral thoughtlessness which far the greatest part of them are fallen into. And the credibility of religion, arising from experience and facts here considered, is fully sufficient, in reason, to engage them to live in the general practice of all virtue and piety: 17 194 CONCLUSION. [PART I. under the serious apprehension, though it should be mixed with some doubt,* of a righteous administration established in nature, and a future judgment in consequence of it; especially when we consider, how very questionable it is whether any thing at all can be gained by vice;} how unquestionably little, as well as precarious, the pleasures and profits of it are at the best; and how soon they must be parted with at the longest. for, in the deliberations of reason, concerning what we are to pursue and what to avoid, as temptations to any thing from mere passion are supposed out of the case; so inducements to vice, from cool expectations of pleasure and interest, so small and uncertain and short, are really so insignificant, as in the view of reason, to be almost nothing in themselves, and in comparison with the importance of religion, they quite disappear and are lost. Mere passion indeed may be alleged, though not as a reason, yet as an excuse for a vicious course of life. And how sorry an excuse it is will be manifest by observing, that we are placed in a condi- tion in which we are unayoidably inured to govern our passions, by being necessitated to govern them; and to lay ourselves under the same kind of restraints, and as great ones too, from temporal regards, as virtue and piety, in the ordinary course of things, require. The plea of ungovernable passion then, on the side of vice, is the poorest of all things; for it is no reason, and but a poor excuse. But the proper motives to religion, are the proper proofs of it, from our moral nature, from the presages of conscience, and our natural apprehension of God, under the character of a righteous Governor and Judge; a nature, and conscience, and apprehension given us by him; and from the confirmation of the dictates of reason, by life and immortality brought to light by the gospel ; and the wrath of God revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighicousness of men. * Part II. Chap. 6. + Page 119. PART II. OF REVEALED RELIGION. (195) a r yh id i a. oa, 7 . . ihe THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION, &e. PART TT: OF REVEALED RELIGION. Ce aeeeneeeeel CHAP.