»»» » »■»» » » » ^ Please handle this volume wiAcare. The University of Connecticut Libraries, Storrs Im li P ^"^•^^^■^ Iz)^ il'1'l'l'l'l'.lU. 23^ \ BOOK 739.B97 c. 1 BUTLER # ANALOGY OF RELIGION ANTURAL AND REVEALED 3 T153 OODbbbbS 3 Book may be kept out IIA18 Oaw k V V ^ <^. ;C S H © F B U T IL, fc B Mt l'^.- - THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION, V\'-u- NATURAL AND REVEALED, . n o TO THE CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE ; TO WHICH ARE ADDED, TWO BRIEF DISSERTATIONS: ON PERSONAL IDENTITY, AND ON THE NATURE OF VIRTUE ; AND FIFTEEN SERMONS. By JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L. LATE LORD BISHOP Or DURHAM. NEW EDITION, WITH ANALYTICAL INTRODUCTIONS^ AND EXPLANA TORY NOTES. LONDON GEORGE BELL & SONS 1897 [Eeprinted from Stereotype plates.} NOTICE TO THE READER. Bishop Butler's Analogy and Sermons have long been established text books at all our Universities, and in very many of our Colleges and Schools. The present edition is designed to supply what is believed to be a desideratum, namely, a popular exposition of the meaning of the learned author. With this object, the editor has prefixed carefully-digested Analytical Introductions both to the Analogy and Sermons, and has added brief notes at the foot of the page, wherever it seemed to him that elucidation was required It should be remefnbered, that nothing greater has been at- tempted than to produce a really useful popular edition ; such as may allure to the careful study of one of the best works in our language, those minds, which, without such help, might shrink from the task. The present edition, will, it is hoped, be found useful, not merely to the College student in preparing for his Degree or for the Bishop's Examination, but also to that daily-increasing class of readers, who are desirous of exercising their reasoning facul- ties with a view to moral improvement. It only remains to state that the foot-notes marked (D.) are taken from Mr. Duke's very careful and scholar-like Analysis of the First Part of the Analogy ; those marked (W.) from that by Mr. Wilkinson ; those marked (H.) from that by Mr. Hobart, of Trinity College, Dublin. The letters (Ed.) are affixed to those notes which have been contributed by the present Editor ; those which are unmarked, are reprinted from Bp. Halifax's standard edition. M.A. CONTENTS. BISHOP BUTLER'S ANALOGY OF RELIGION Pagb Analytical Introduction by the present Editob ... I Preface by Bp. Halifax 39 Life of Bp. Butler 63 Introduction by the Author ,72 PART I. OF NATURAL EELIGION. Cbap. L Of a Future Life 81 IL Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishments ; and particularly of the latter 98 in. Of the Moral Government of God 109 ■ IV. Of a State of Probation, as implying Trial, DiflBculties, and Danger 131 V. Of a State of Probation, as intended for Moral Discipline and Improvement 139 VL Of the Opinion of Necessity, considered as influencing Practice 161 VIL Of the Government of God, considered as a Scheme or Constitution, imperfectly comprehended . . .177 Conclusion 187 PART II. OF REVEALED RELIGION. Of the Importance of Christianity 193 Of the supposed Presumption against a Revelation, con- aidered as miraculous 210 ¥1 C0NTENT8L Chap III Pa 9* Of our incapacity of judging what -were to be expected in a Revelation; and the Credibility, from Analogy, that it must contain Things appearing liable to Objections . 217 IV. Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme or Constitution, imperfectly comprehended 232 V. Of the particular System of Christianity; the Appoinjr ment of a ^Mediator, and the Redemption of the World by him 239 VI. Of the Want of Universality in Revelation : and of the supposed Deficiency in the Proof of it . . . . 257 VII. Of the particular Evidence for Christianity . . . 275 VIII. Of the Objections -which may be made against arguing from the Analogy of I^ature to Religion . . . 308 Conclusion 320 Dissertation I. — Of Personal Identity DissEKTATioN II. — Of the Nature of Virtue 328 334 SERMONS. Analytical Inteoduotion by the Editob Author's Preface Sermon I. Upon the Social Nature of Man II. III. Upon the Natural Supremacy of Consciec IV. Upon the Government of the Tongue V. VI. Upon Compassion . VII. Upon the Character of Balaam VIII. Upon Resentment . IX. Upon Forgiveness of Injuries . X. Upon Self-Deceit XI. XII. Upon the Love of our Neighbou? XIII. XIV. Upon Piety, or the Love of God XV. Upon the Ignorance of Man • . 346 . 369 . 385 398, 408 . 415 425, 435 . 443 . 452 . 462 . 473 484, 498 512, 521 531 iNALTTICAL INTKODUCTION TO BISHOP BUTLER'S ANALOGY. INTEODUCTION. The object of the " Analogy " is not to prove tlie truth of Re- vealed Religion, but to confirm it, by showing that there is no greater difficulty in the way of believing the Religion of Revela- tion, than in believing the Religion of Nature ; and, consequently, that no one who does not reject Natural Religion can consistently reject Revelation on the score of insufficient proof Its argument is, " If, in spite of all difficulties, you believe the one, you must, in common fairness, and to be consistent, believe the other. If they come from the same God, there is an a priori probability that they will each have the same or similar difficulties ; and if, in spite of all its acknowledged difficulties, you are firmly persuaded of the truth of Natural Religion, you are bound to accept Revealed Religion, in spite of an equal amount of possible or actual ob- jections that may be summoned up against it." The principle asserted in the Analogy is not new : Origen him- self has observed, that " He who believes Scripture to have pro- ceeded from the Author of Nature may well expect to find the same sort of difficulties in the former as in the constitution 0/ Nature." Bp. Butler carries out this principle by arguing that " He who denies the Scripture to be from God on account of these difficulties, may with equal justice deny that the world is the work of God ; and that if, on the other hand, there is an Analogy between Natural and Revealed Religion, there is a strong pre- sumption that they have the same author." Now it will at once be clear that in such reasonings as those contained in this work, we are not to expect demonstrative evi- dence. In this, as in the matters of every-day life, we must be content with prohaUe evidence ; which differs from the former in that it admits of degrees *. It is by its very nature imperfect, • The essential distinction between Demonstrative and Probable evidence L oco of matter ; that of the former being certdin, and that of the latteJ 2 OF A FUTURE LIFE and therefore suited to the imperfect mind of man ; and wo acknowledge probability as a rule of conduct so far that "we think a man mad if he does not act on a reasonable amount of pro- bability, even when the chances are against him, but looks for mathematical certainty. In fact, with us, Frohahility is the very guide of life. Bp. Butler next rejects the idea of forming our notions of the moral world and its constitution, solely on our own preconceived notions as to what might or ought to have been ; and urges that human ignorance is the best answer to all such useless specula- tions. He also rejects the habit of forming our notions of right and fitness on principles that in themselves are certain, but are applied to cases where we are not warranted in applying them. He then assumes as granted " that there is an Author of Nature and Governor of the World,^^ and states it to be his intention " to join abstract reasoning with the observation of facts," and to argue from such facts as are known and admitted, to others which are like them ; from the visible to the invisible part of God's Providential Government. And he carries out his principle by showing that the parts chiefly objected to in the whole dispensa- tion of Revealed Religion are analogous to what is experienced in the constitution and course of nature. The " Introduction " concludes with a brief sketch of the connection between the chapters of both Parts of the Analogy. PART L, CHAPTER I. OF A FUTURE LIFE. Our present experience suggests to us the belief that we shall continue to live on in a future state ; for I. The changes which confessedly we have undergone in our birth and in our growth from infancy, are as great as any which death can bring upon us. The same, too, is the case with ani- mal and vegetable life. (See the argument of St. Paul in 1 Cor. Ohap, XV.) II. There is an d priori probability that our present powers ol thought and action will be continued to us after death, unless we being variable and contingent. It is a consequence of this fact, that the latter admits of degrees, which range from the very lowest presumption in a graduated scale up to the highest point of probability, namely, moral certainty. The force of probability as an argument is based upon partial identity, and finds its expression in the word *' verisimile." In other woids, m probable matter we may, and do generally, conclude that a particular consequence will flow from some quality in one object, because it flows from the same quality in another. In all probable armiraent the mind proceeds Bpoxi tiie priiiciple that like cause* i^roduce like eifocta. OF A FUTURE UFR. 3 have some positive reason given us for thinking that death will be the destruction of these living powers. But so far from thia being the case, our present possession of them is the very strongest reason for believing that we shall possess them hereafter. For if there is an idea that death will be the destruction of living powers, that idea must arise either from the reason of tht thing, or from the Analogy of Nature. But it does not arise from the reason of the thing ; — for we do not know what death is ; we only know some of its phenomena and effects, as the dissolution of skin, bones, ractice of Religion. Again, we answer that the principle on which the above objection is founded, can be no other than this, that if Religion was true, it would never have been left to be established by doubtful evidence. And this principle is satisfactorily answered and shown to be valueless, if it can be proved that the Author of Nature has actually left us only the same doubtful evidence to act upon in tenporal concerns. III. It may be objected, that " it is a strange way of vindi- cating the justice and goodness ot the Author of Nature, and of removing objections against Natural and Revealed Religion, to show that the same or like objections lie against both." We answer that the object of this treatise is not to vindicate the character of God, but to show the obligations of man. For, first, it is not necessary to vindicate God's dispensations against all possible objections, any further than to show that the things objected to may, after all, be consistent with justice and goodness. The Providence of God is vindicated so far as Religion makes its vindication necessary. Again, we must observe, that objections against Divine Goodness are not endeavoured to be removed by showing that the like objections, allowed to be conclusive, lie against Natural Providence ; but those objections, being shown to be practically inconclusive, the things objected against, considered as matters of fact, are further shown to be credible from their con- formity to the course and constitution of Nature. Again, even if the objections against God's justice be not removed, still we contend that the facts of God's government would be proved credible from what has been urged above. The obligations of Religion, too, are fully made out by proving the reasonableness of the practice of it, even though the abstract reasonableness of the scheme itself be not established. And lastly, we may observe, that generally, though the analogy of Nature is not a sufficient answer to the objections themselves, which are urged against the wisdom or justice of Religion, yet it is a sufficient answer to the real intention of such objections, which is to show that Religion is a thing incredible. IV. It may be urged, that " the foregoing argument from analogy, if carried to its greatest length, will, after all, leave the mind in an unsettled state." We admit that the above objection, in the abstract, is true; but the evidence afforded by Nature in all practical matters will do the same. The question is, not whether the evidence of Revelation be satisfactory in itself, but whether it be in rf^ason sufficient to prove and discipline that virtue which it presupposes to exist. For Religion presupposes in all who embrace it a certain degree of integrity and honesty. V. It may be objected, that, " after all, mankind will nevei D 3 86 OF OBJECTIONS AGATNST ARrxTlMEJ^T FROM ANALOGY. be induced to forego their present interest and pleasure, out of regard for Religion upon doubtful evidence." We answer, that to say that Religion will have little or no influence with men is nothing to the purpose of the present treatise ; for our purpose is, to show how men ought to behave themselves, not how they v-ill. And in extenuation of the defects of this treatise, we must plead that we have all along been arguing on the principles and premisses of our opponents. And we have accordingly omitted the questions of liberty and moral fitness, though doubtless they are true and important. What, then, will be the force and use of this treatise ? Much. To those who already believe in Christianity, upon the proof arising out of the two last-mentioned principles, it will be a con- firmation of what they already believe ; for it will serve to clear away possible objections. Again, it will be of use to those who do not admit these principles, for to them it will be an original proof of Christianity. While those who do not believe in Reve- lation at all will find from it the absurdity of all attempts to Drove Religion false. ADVERTISEMENT PEEFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION If the reader should meet here with anything 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 nothing but what appears to me of some real weight, and therefore of great importance : yet he will observe several things which will appear to him of very little, if he can think things to be of little, import- ance, 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 ac- cordingly they treat it, as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point among all people of discernment ; and nothing re- mained, but to set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridi- cule, as it were by way of reprisals, for its having so long inter- rupted the pleasures of the world. On the contrary, thus much, at least, will be here found, not taken for granted, but proved, that any reasonable man, who will thoroughly 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 nothiDg 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 eveiy one who is concerned in it. May, 1738. TO THE REVEREND DR. THOMAS BALGUY, ARCHDEACON AND PREBENDARY OP WINCHESTER, ETC. Dear Sir, — I trust you will excuse the liberty I have taken of pre- fixing your name to the following sheets ; the latter part of which, I am confident, will not be thought undeserving of your approba- tion ; and of the former part you will commend the intention at least, if not the execution. In vindicating the character of Bishop Butler from the aspersions thrown upon it since his death, I have but discharged a common duty of humanity, which sur- vivors owe to those who have deserved well of mankind by their lives or writings, when they are past the power of appearing in their own defence. And if what I have added, by way of opening the general design of the works of this great Prelate, be of use in exciting the younger class of students in our universities to read, and so to read as to understand, the two volumes prepared and published by the author himself, I flatter myself I shall have done no inconsiderable service to morality and religion. Your time and studies have been long successfully devoted to the support of the same great cause : and in what you have lately given to the vrorld, both as an ailthor and an editor, you have largely contributed to the defence of our common Christianity, and of what was esteemed by one, who was perfectly competent to judge, its best establishment, the Church of England. In the present publication I consider myself as a fellow labourer with you in the same design, and tracing the path you have trod before, but at great distance, and with unequal paces. When, by His Majesty's goodness, I Avas raised to that station of eminence in the Church, to which you had been first named, and which, on account of the infirmity of your health, you had desired to decline ; it was honour enough for me on such an occasion to have been thought of next to you : and I know of no better rule by which to govern my conduct, so as not to discredit the Royal Hand which conferred on me so signal and unmerited a favour, than in cases of difficulty to put the question to myself, how you would probably have acted in the same situation. You see. Sir, I still look up to you, as I have been wont, both as my superior and my example. That I may long reap the benefit of your advice and friendship ; and that such a measure of health and strength may be continued to you, as may enable you to pass the evening of your days with comfort, and enjoy the blessings of the life you love, is the cordial wish of, Dear Sir, Your very afiectionate and faithful Servant, S. QLOUCESTER Dartmouth Street, WestmiDBter, I2th May, 1786. PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. " When I consider how liglit a matter very often subjects the best est* b.ished characters to the suspicions of posterity — posterity often as malignant to virtue as the age that saw it was envious of its glory — and how ready a remote age is to catch at a low revived slander, which the times that brought it forth saw despised and forgotten almost in its birth, I cannot but think it a matter that deserves attention." — Letter to the Editor of the Letters on ih» Spirit of Patriotism, &c., by Bishop Warburton. See his Works, vol. vii. p. 547. The Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of Durham was printed and published in the year 1751, by the learned Prelate, whose name it bears ; and, together with the Sermons and Analogy of the same writer, both too well known to need a more particular description, completes the collection of his Works. It has long been considered as a matter of curiosity, on account of its scarce- ness; and it is equally curious on other accounts — its subject, and the calumny to which it gave occasion, of representing the Author as addicted to superstition, as inclined to Popery, and as dying in the communion of the Chicrch of Rome. The improved edition of the Biographia Britannica, published under the care of Dr. Kippis, having unavoidably brought this calumny again into notice, it may not be unseasonable to offer a few reflections in this place, by way of obviating any impressions that may hence arise to the disadvantage of so great a character as that of the late Bishop Butler; referring those who desire a more particular account of his life to the third volume of the same entertaining work, printed in 1784. art. Butler (Joseph) *. I. The principal design of the Bishop in his Charge is, to exhort his Clergy to " do their part towards reviving a practical sense of religion amongst the people committed to their care ;" and, as one way of effecting this, to "instruct them in the importance of external religion,^'' or the usefulness of outward observances in promoting inward piety. Now, from the compound nature of man, consisting of two parts, the body and the mind, together with the infiaence which these are found to have on one another, it follows, that the religious regards of such a creature ought to be so framed fis to be in some way properly accommodated to both. A religion * The account here alluded to is subjoined to this Preface. 40 PEEFACE which is purely spiritual, stripped of everything that may a5ect the senses, and considered only as a divine philosophy of the mind, if it do not mount up into enthusiasm (as has frequently been the case), often sinks, after a few short fervours, into indifference : an abstracted invisible object, like that Avhich natural religion offers, ceases to move or interest the heart ; and something further is wanting to bring it nearer, and render it more present to our view, than merely an intellectual contemplation. On the other hand, when, in order to remedy this inconvenience, recourse is had to instituted forms and ritual injunctions, there is always danger lest men be tempted to rest entirely on these, and persuade themselves that a painful attention to such observances will atone for the want of genuine piety and virtue. Yet surely there is a way of steering safely between these two extremes ; of so consulting both the parts of our constitution, that the body and the mind may concur in rendering our religious services acceptable to God, and at the same time useful to ourselves. And what way can this be, but precisely that which is recommended in the Charge; such a cultivation of outward as well as inward religion, that from both may result, what is the point chiefly to be laboured, and at all events to be secured, a correspondent temper and behaviour; or, in other words, such an application of the forms of godliness as may be subservient in promoting the power and spirit of it 1 No man who believes the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, and understands what he believes, but must know, that external religion is as much enjoined, and constitutes as real a part of revelation, as that which is internal. The many ceremonies in use among the Jews, in consequence of a divine command ; the baptism of water, as an emblem of moral purity ; the eating and drinking of bread and wine, as symbols and representations of the body and blood of Christ, required of Christians, — are proofs of this. On comparing these two parts of religion together, one, it is immediately seen, is of much greater importance than the other ; and, whenever they happen to interfere, is always to be preferred : but does it follow from hence, that therefore that other is of little or no importance, and, in cases where there is no competition, may entirely be neglected? Or rather is not the legitimate conclusion directly the reverse, that nothing is to be looked upon as of little importance, which is of any use at all in preserving upon our minds a sense of the Divine authority, which recalls to our remembrance the obligations we are under, and helps to keep us, as the Scripture expresses it, " in the fear of the Lord all the day long?"* If, to adopt the instance mentioned in the Charge, the sight of a church should remind a man of some sentiment of piety; if, from the view of a material building dedicated to tho lervice of God, he should be led to regard himself, his own body ' Prov. xxiii. 17. BY TEE EDITOR. 41 fts a living " temple of the Holy Ghost," ' and therefore no moro than the other to be profaned or desecrated by anything that defileth or is impure ; could it be truly said of such a one, that he was superstitious, or mistook the means of religion for the end? If, to use another, and what has been thought a more obnoxious instance, taken from the Bishop's practice, a cross erected in a place of public worship 2, should cause us to reflect on Him who died on a cross for our salvation, and on the necessity Df our "own dying to sin,"* and of "crucifying the flesh with the affections and lusts ;" * would any worse consequences follow from sach sentiments so excited, than if the same sen- timents had been excited by the view of a picture — of the cruci- fixion suppose — such as is commonly placed, and with this very design, iii foreign churches, and indeed in many of our own? Both the instances here adduced, it is very possible, may be far from being approved, even by those who are under the most sincere convictions of the importance of true religion : and it is easy to 3onceive how open to scorn and censure they must be from others, who think they have a talent for ridicule, and have accustomed themselves to regard all pretensions to piety as hypocritical or superstitious. But " Wisdom is justified of her children."* Reli- gion is what it is, " whether men will hear, or whether they will forbear ;"• and whatever in the smallest degree promotes its interests, and assists us in performing its commands, whether that assistance be derived from the medium of the body or the mind, ought to be esteemed of great weight, and deserving of our most serious attention. However, be the danger of superstition what it may, no one was more sensible of that danger, or more in earnest in maintaining that external acts of themselves are nothing, and that moral holiness, as distinguished from bodily observances of every kind, is that whi<3h constitutes the essence of religion, than Bishop Butler. Not only the Charge itself — the whole intention of which is plainly nothing more than to enforce the necessity of 'practical religion, the reality as well as form — is a demonstration of this, but many passages besides to the same purpose, selected from his other writings. Take the two following as specimens. In his • 1 Cor. vi. 19. ^ Dr. Butler, when Bishop of Bristol, put up a cross, a plain piece A marble inlaid, in the chapel of his episcopal house. This, which was in- tended by the blameless Prelate merely as a sign or memorial that tru« Christians are to bear their cross, and not to be ashamed of following a cru- cified Master^ was considered as affording a presumption that he was secretly inclined to Popish forms and ceremonies, and had no great dislike to Popery itself. And, on account of the offence it occasioned, both at the time aa4 lince, it were to be wished, in prudence \t had not been done. ^ Rom. vi. 11. « Gal. v. 24. ^ Hfttt. xi. 19. ' £sek. ii. 42 PREFACE Analogy he observes thus : " Though mankind have, in all ages, been greatly prone to place their religion in peculiar positive rites, by way of equivalent for obedience to moral precepts ; yet, without making any comparison at all between them, and consequently without determining which is to have the preference, the nature of the thing abundantly shows all notions of that kind to be utterly subversive of true religion ; as they are, moreover, con- trary to the whole tenor of Scripture ; and likewise to the most express particular declarations of it, that nothing can render us accepted of God, without moral virtue."' And to the same purpose in his sermon, preached before the Society for the Propa- gation of the Gospel, in February, 1738-9 : " Indeed, amongst creatures naturally formed for religion, yet so much under the power of imagination as men are, superstition is an evil which can never be out of sight. But even against this, true religion is a great security, and the only one. True religion takes up that place in the mind which superstition would usurp, and so leaves little room for it ; and likewise lays us under the strongest obliga- tions to oppose it. On the contrary, the danger of superstition cannot but be increased by the prevalence of irreligion; and, by its general prevalence, the evil will be unavoidable. For the common people, wanting a religion, will of course take up with almost any superstition which is thrown in their way ; and in process of time, amidst the infinite vicissitudes of the political world, the leaders of parties will certainly be able to serve them- selves of that superstition, whatever it be, which is getting ground, and will not fail to carry it to the utmost length their occasions require. The general nature of the thing shows this, and history and fact confirm it. It is therefore wonderful, those people who eeem to think there is but one evil in life, that of superstition, should not see that atheism and profaneness must be the introduc- tion of it." 2 He who can think and write in such a manner, can never be said to mistake the nature of real religiou; and he who, after such proofs to the contrary, can persist in asserting of so discre et and learned a person, that he was addicted to superstition, must himself be much a stranger both to truth and charity. And here it'may be worth our v\rhile to observe that the same excellent Prelate, who by one set of men was suspected of super- stition, on account of his Charge, has by another been represented as leaning to the opposite extreme of enthusiasm^ on account of his two discourses On the Love of God. But both opinions are equally without foundation. He was neither superstitious nor an enthusiast ; his mind was much too strong, and his habits of think- ing and reasoning much too strict and severe, to suffer him to descend to the weaknesses of either character. His piety was at ' Analogy, Part II. Chap. i. ^ SeFca. xvi. BY THE EDITCB. 43 once fervent and rational. When impressed with a generoua concern for the declining cause of religion, he laboured to revive its dying interests ; nothing he judged would be more effectual to that end among creatures so much engaged with bodily things, and so apt to be affected with whatever strongly solicits the senses as men are, than a religion of such a frame as should in its exer- cise require the joint exertions of the body and the mind. On the other hand, when penetrated with the dignity and importance of *'the first and great commandment,"' love to God, he set himself to inquire what those movements of the heart are which are due to Him, the Author and Cause of all things ; he found, in the coolest way of consideration, that God is the natural object of the same affections of gratitude, reverence, fear, desire of approbation, trust, and dependence — the same affections in kind, though doubt- less in a very disproportionate degree — which any one would feel from contemplating a perfect character in a creature, in which goodness, with wisdom and power, are supposed to be the pre- dominant qualities, with the further circumstance, that this creature was also his governor and friend. This subject is mani- festly a real one; there is nothing in it fanciful or unreasonable: this way of being affected towards God is piety in the strictest sense : this is religion considered as a habit of mind ; a religion suited to the nature and condition of man ^. II. From superstition to Popery the transition is easy; no wonder then, that, in the progress of detraction, the simple imputation of the former of these, with which the attack on the character of our Author was opened, should be followed by the more aggravated imputation of the latter. Nothing, I think, can fairly be gathered in support of such a suggestion, from the Charge, in which Popery is barely mentioned, and occasionally only, and in a sentence or two ; yet even there, it should be remarked, the Bishop takes care to describe the peculiar observ- ances required by it, " some as in themselves wrong and super- stitious, and others of them as being made subservient to the purposes of superstition." With respect to his other writings, any one at all conversant with them needs not to be told that the matters treated of both in his Sermons and his Analogy did none of them directly lead him to consider, and much less to combat, the opinions, whether relating to faith or worship, which are peculiar to the Church of Rome : it might therefore have ' Matt. xxii. 38. * Many of the sentiments, in these Two Discourses of Bishop Butler, concernirrg the sovereign good of man ; the impossibility of procuring it in the present life ; the unsatisfactoriness of earthly enjoyments ; together with the somewhat beyond and above ihem all, which once attained, there will rest nothing further to be wished or hoped; and which is then only to be expected, when we shall have put oflF this mortal body, and our union with ©od shall be complete^ — occur iu Hoolcers Ecclesiastical Polity, book i, § 11. 44 PEEFACE happened, yet without any just conclusion arising from thence, of being himself inclined to favour those opinions, that he had never mentioned, so much as incidentally, the subject of Popery at all. But fortunately for the reputation of the Bishop, and to the eternal disgrace of his calumniators, even this poor resource is wanting to support their malevolence. In his Sermon at St. Bride's, before the Lord Mayor, in 1740, after having said that *' our laws and whole constitution go more upon supposition of an equality amongst mankind than the constitution and laws of other countries," he goes on to observe that "this plainly requires that more particular regard should be had to the education of the lower people here, than in places where they are born slaves of power, and to be made slaves of superstition;'"'^ meaning evidently, in this place, by the general term superstition, the particular errors of the Romanists. This is something ; but we have a still plainer indication what his sentiments concerning Popery really were, from another of his additional Sermons, I mean that before the House of Lords on June the 11th, 1747, the anniversary of his late Majesty's accession. The passage alluded to is as follows, and my readers will not be displeased that I give it them at length, " The value of our religious Establishment ought to be very much heightened in our esteem by considering what it is a security from; I mean that great corruption of Christianity, Popery, which is ever hard at work to bring us again under its yoke. Whoever will consider the Popish claims to the disposal of the whole earth, as of divine right, to dispense with the most sacred engagements, the claims to supreme abso- lute authority in religion ; in short, the general claims which the Canonists express by the words, 'plenitude of power — whoever, I say, will consider Popery as it is professed at Rome, may see that it is manifest open usurpation of all human and divine authority. But even in those Roman Catholic countries where these mon- strous claims are not admitted, and the civil power does, in many respects, restrain the papal, yet persecution is professed, as it is absolutely enjoined by what is acknowledged to be their highest authority, a general council, so called, with the Pope at the head of it ; and is practised in all of them, I think, without exception, where it can be done safely. Thus they go on to substitute force instead of argument ; and external profession made by force, instead of reasonable conviction. And thus corruptions of the grossest sort have been in vogue for many generations, in many parts of Christendom, and are so still, even where Popery obtains in its least absurd form ; and their antiquity and wide extent are insisted upon as proofs of their truth ; a kind of proof which at best can only be presumptive, but which loses all its little weight, in proportion as the long and large prevalence cf such corruptions * Serm. xvii. BY THE EDITOR. 4^ have been obtained by force."' In another part of the same Sermon, where he is again speaking of our ecclesiastical constitu- tion, he reminds his audience that it is to be valued, " not because it leaves us at liberty to have as little religion as we please, without being accountable to human judicatories; but because it exhibits to our view, and enforces upon our consciences, genuine Christianity, free from the superstitions with which it is defiled in other countries; which superstitions, he observes, "naturally tend to abate its force." The date of this Sermon should here be attended to. It was preached in June, 1747; that is, four years before the delivery and publication of the Charge, which was in the year 1751 ; and exactly five years before the Author died, which was in June, 1752. We have then, in the passages now laid before the reader, a clear and unequivocal proof, brought down to within a few years of Bishop Butler's death, that Popery was held by him in the utmost abhorrence, and that he regarded it in no other light than as the great corrujjtion of Christianity^ and a manifest, open usurpation of all human and divhu authority. The argument is decisive ; nor will anything be of force to inva- lidate it, unless from some after-act during the short remainder of the Bishop's life, besides that of delivering and printing his Charge (which, after what I have said here, and in the Notes added to this Preface and to the Charge, I must have leave t(? consider as affording no evidence at all of his inclination to Papistical doctrines or ceremonies), the contrary shall incontro- vertibly appear. III. One such after- act, however, has been alleged, which would effectually demolish all that we have urged in behalf of our Prelate, were it true, as is pretended, that he died in the com- munion of the Church of Rome. Had a story of this sort been invented and propagated by Papists, the wonder might have Deen less : " Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur Atridae," But to the reproach of Protestantism, the fabrication of this calumny, for such we shall find it, originated from among our- selves. It is pretty remarkable that a circumstance so extraordi- nary should never have been divulged till the year 1767, fifteen years after the Bishop's decease. At that time Dr. Thomas Seeker was Archbishop of Canterbury, who of all others was the most likely to know the truth or falsehood of the fact asserted, having been educated with our Author in his early youth, and having lived in a constant habit of intimacy with him to the very time of his death. The good Archbishop was not silent on this occasion ; with a virtuous indignation he stood forth to protect the posthumous character of his friend; and in a public news* ' Senu. zx. 46 PREFACE paper, under the signature of Misopse^ides, called upon his accusef to support what he had advanced by whatever proofs he could. No proof, however, nor anything like a proof, appeared in reply ; and every man of sense and candour at that time was perfectly convinced the assertion was entirely groundless ^ As a further * When the first edition of this Preface was published, I had in vain endeavoured to procure a sight of the papers in which Bishop Butler waa accused of having died a Papist, and Archbishop Seeker's replies to them; though I well remembered to have read both when they first appeared in the public prints. But a learned Professor in the University of Oxford has furnished me with the whole controversy in its original form; a brief history of which it may not be unacceptable to oflfer here to the curious reader. The attack was opened in the year 1767, in an anonymous pan>phlet, entitled " The Root of Protestant Errors Examined;" in which the author asserted, that " by an anecdote lately given him, that same Prelate" (who at the bottom of the page is called B — p of D — m) " is said to have died in the communion of a church that makes much use of saints, saints' days, and al. the trumpery of saint worship." When this remarkable fact, now first divulged, came to be generally known, it occasioned, as might be expected, no little alarm; and intelligence of it was no sooner conveyed to Archbishop Seeker, than in a short letter signed Misopseudes, and printed in the St. James s Chronicle of May 9, he called upon the writer to produce his authority for publishing " so gross and scandalous a falsehood." To this challenge an immediate answer was returned by the author of the pamphlet, who, now assuming the name of Phiieleutheros, informed Misopsendes, through the channel of the same paper, that " such anecdote had been given him, and that he was yet of opinion that there was nothing improbable in it when it is considered that the same Prelate put up the Popish insiynia of the cross in his chapel when at Bristol ; and in his last Episcopal Charge has squinted very much towards that superstition." Here we find the accusation not only repeated but supported by reasons, such as they are, of which it set-med necessary that some notice should be taken; nor did the Archbishop conceive it unbecoming his own dignity to stand up on this occasion as the vindicator of innocence against the calumniator of the helpless dead. Accordingly, in a second letter in the same newspaper of May 23, and subscribed Misopseudes as before, after reciting from Bishop Butler's sermon, before the Lords, the very passage here printed in the preface, and observing that " there are, in the same sernum, declarations as strong as can be made against temporal punisliments for heresy, schism, or even for idolatry;" his Grace expresses himself thus: " Now he (Bishop Butler) was universally esteemed throuuhout his life a man of strict piety and honesty, as well as uncommon abilities. He gave all the proofs, public and private, which his station led liim to give, and they were decisive and daily, of his continuing to the last a sincere member of the Church of England. Ncr had ever any of his acquaintance or most intimate friends, nor have they to this day, the least doubt of it." As to putting up a cross in his chapel, the Aichbisliop. frankly owns, that for himself he wishes he had not, and thinks that in so doing the Bishop did amiss. But then he asks, " Can that be opposed, as »ny proof of Popery, to all the evidence on the other side; cr even to the lingle evidence of tlie abovementioned sermon? Most of oui jhurcbes hav« rtT THE EDITOR, 47 confirmation of the rectitude of this judgzient, it may not be amiss to mention there is yet in existence a strong presumptive argument at least in its favour, drawn from the testimony of crosses upon them: are they therefore Popish churches 1 The Lutherans have more than crosses in theirs: are the Lutherans therefore Papists]" And as to the Charge, no Papist, his Grace remarks, would have spoken as Bishop Butler there does, of the observances peculiar to Roman Catholics, some of which he expressly censures as wrong and superstitious, and others as made subservient to the purposes of superstition, and, on these accounts, abolished at the Reformation. After the publication of this letter Pkileleutheros replied in a short defence of his own conduct, but without producing anything new in confirmation of what he had advanced. And here the controversy, so far as the two principals were concerned, seems to have ended. But the dispute was not suffered to die away quite so soon. For in the same year and in the same newspaper of July 21, another letter appeared, in which the author not only contended that the cross in the Episcopal chapel at Bristol, and the Charge to the Clergy of Durham in 1751, amount to fiill proof of a strong attachment to the idolatrous communion of the Church of Rome, but, with the reader's leave, he would fain account for the Bishop's " tendency this way." And this he attempted to do, " from the natural melan- choly and gloominess of Dr. Butler's disposition; from his great fondness for the lives of Romish saints, and their books of mystic piety; from his drawing his notions of teaching men religion, not from the New Testament, but from philosophical and political opinions of his own; and, above all, from his transition from a strict Dissenter amongst the Presbyterians to a rigid Churchman, and his sudden and unexpected elevation to great wealth and dignity in the Church." The attack thus renewed excited the Archbishop's attention a second time, and drew from him a fresh answer, subscribed also Misopseudes, in the St. James's Chronicle of August 4. In this letter our excellent Metropolitan, first of all obliquely hinting at the unfairness of sitting in judgment on the character of a man who had been dead fifteen years, and then reminding his correspondent that " full proof had been already published that Bishop Butler abhorred Popery as a vile corruption of Chris- tianity, and that it might be proved, if needful, that he held the Pope to be Antichrist;" (to which decisive testimonies of undoubted aversion from the Romish Church, another is also added in the postscript, his taking, when promoted to the see of Durham, for his domestic Chaplain, Dr. Nath. Forster, who had published, not four years before, a sermon, entitled " Popery Destructive of the Evidence of Christianity"); proceeds to observe "that the natural melancholy of the Bishop's temper would rather have fixed him amongst his first friends than prompted him to the change he made; that he read books of all sorts as well as books of mystic piety, and knew how to pick the good that was in them out of the bad; that his opinions were exposed without reserve in his Analogy and his Sermons, and if the doctrine of either be Popish or unscriptural, the learned world hath mistaken strangely in admiring both; that, instead of being a strict Dissenter, ne never was a communicant in any Dissenting assembly; on the contrary, that he went occasionally, from his early years, to the established worship, and became a constant conformist to it when he was barely of age, and entered himself, in 1714. of Oi'el College; that hi§ elevation to gre»t dignity in the Church, far from, being s-^dden aad 48 PREFACE. those who attended our Author jn the sickn3ss of which he died The last days of this excellent Prelate were passed at Bath ; Dt Nathanael Forster, his chaplain, being continually with him, and for one day, and at the very end of his illness, Dr. Martin Benson also, the then Bishop of Gloucester, who shortened his own life in his pious haste to visit his dying friend. Both these persons constantly Avrote letters to Dr. Seeker, then Bishop of Oxford, containing accounts of Bishop Butler's declining health, and of the symptoms and progress of his disorder, which, as was con- jectured, soon terminated in his death. These letters, which are unexpected, was a gradual and natural rise, through a variety of preferments, and a period of thirty-two years; that, as Bishop of Durham, he had very little authority beyond his brethren, and in ecclesiastical matters had none beyond them; a larger income than most of them he had; but this he employed, not, as was insinuated, in augmenting the pomp of worship in his cathedral, where indeed it is no greater than in others, but for the purposes of charity, and in the repairing of his houses." After these remarks the letter closes with the following words: "Upon the whole, few accusations 80 entirely groundless have been so pertinaciously, I am unwilling to say maliciously, carried on as the present; and surely it is high time for the authors and abettors of it, in mere common prudence, to show some regard, if not to truth, at least to shame." It only remains to be mentioned, that the above letters of Archbishop Seeker had such an effect on a writer, who signed himself in the St. James's Chronicle of August 25, A Dissenting Minister, that he declared it as his opinion, that " the author of the pamphlet called * The Root of Protestant Errors Examined,' and his friends, were obliged in candour, in justice, and in honour, to retract their charge, unless they could establish it on much better grounds than had hitherto appeared:" and he expressed his "hopes that it would be imderstood that the Dissenters in general had no hand in the accu- sation, and that it had only been the act of two or three mistaken men." Another person also, " a foreigner by birth," as he says of himself, who had oeen long an admirer of Bishop Butler, and had perused with great attention all that had been written on both sides in the present controversy, confesses he had been " wonderfully pleased with observing with what candour and temper, as well as clearness and solidity, he was vindicated from the asper- sions laid against him." All the adversaries of our Prelate, however, had not the virtue or sense to be thus convinced; some of whom still continued, under the signatures of Old Martin, Latimer, An Impartial Protestant, FaiUimis, Misonothos, to repeat their confuted falsehoods in the public prints; as if the curse of calumniators had fallen upon them, and their memory, by being long a traitor to truth, had taken at last a severe revenge, and compelled them to credit their own lie. The first of these gentlemen, Old Martin, who dates from Newcastle, May 29, from the rancour and malignity with which his letter abounds, and from the particular virulence he discovers towards the characters of Bishop Butler and his defender, I conjecture to be no other than the very person who had already figured in this dispute, so early as the year 1752; of whose work, entitled " A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Import- ance of External Religion," the reader will find some account in the notei subjoined to the Bishop's Charge in the volume of Sermons. BY T^k EDITOR. 49 •till preserved in the Lambeth library', I have read; and not the slenderest argument can be collected from them in justification of the ridiculous slander we are here considering;. If at that awful season the Bishop was not known to have expressed any opinion tending to show his dislike to Popery, neither was be known to have said anything that could at all be construed in approbation of it; and the natural presumption is that whatever seutimentt he had formerly entertained concerning that corrupt system of leligion, he continued to entertain them to the last. The truth is, neither the word nor the idea of Popery seems once to have occurred either to the Bishop himself or to those who watched his parting moments; their thoughts were otherwise engaged. His disorder had reduced him to such delulity as to render him inca oable of speaking much or long on any subject; the few bright intervals that occurred were passed in a state of the utmost tranquillity and composure, and in that composure he expired. " Mark the perfect man, and behold tlie upright : for the end of that man is peace." ^ "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."^ Out of pure respect for the virtues of a man whom I had never the happiness of knowing, or even of seeing, but from whose writings I have received the greatest benefit and illumination, and which I have reason to be thankful to Providence for having early thrown in my way, I have adventured, in what I have now ofi"ered to the public, to step forth in his defence, and to vindicate his honest fame from the attacks of those who, with the vain hope of bringing down superior characters to their own level, are for ever at work in detracting from their just praise. For the literary reputation of Bishop Butler, it stands too high in the opinion of the world to incur the danger of any diminution ; but this, in truth, is the least of his excellences. He was more than a good writer ; he was a good man ; and, what is an addition even to this eulogy, he was a sincere Christian. His whole study was directed to the knowledge and practice of sound morality and true religion; these he adorned by his life, and has recommended to future ages in his writings; in which, if my judgment be of any avail, he has done essential service to both, as much, perhaps, as any single person since the extraordinary gifts of " the word of wisdom and the word of knowledge"* have been withdrawn. In what follows I propose to give a short account of the ' The letters, v;ith a sight of whic\ I was indulged by the favour of our present most worthy Metropolitan, are all, as I remember, wrapped together under cue cover; on the back of which is written, in Archbishop Setkers own hand, the following words, or words to this effect: " Presumptive Argumeiit* that Bishop Butler did not die a Papist." * Psalm x^xvii. 37. ^ Numb, xxiii. 10. * I Cor. sii. S. 50 PKEFACK Bishop's moral and religious systems, as these are collected from his Works. I. His way of treating the subject of morals is to be gathered from the volume of his Sermons, and particularly from the three first, and from the Preface to that volume. " There is," as our author with singular sagacity has observed, " a much more exact correspondence between the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take notice of."^ The inward frame of man answers to his outward condition; the several pro- pensities, passions, and affections, implanted in our hearts by the Author of nature, are in a peculiar manner adapted to the circumstances of life in which he hath placed us. This general observation, properly pursued, leads to several important conclu- sions. The original internal constitution of man, compared with his external condition, enables us to discern what course of action and behaviour that constitution leads to, what is our duty respect- ing that condition, and furnishes us besides with the most powerful arguments to the practice of it. What the inward frame and constitution of man is, is a question of fact; to be determined, as other facts are, from experience, from our internal feelings and external senses, and from the testimony of others. Whether human nature, and the circum- stances in which it is placed, might not have been ordered other- wise, is foreign to our inquiry, and none of our concern: our province is, taking both of these as they are, and viewing the connection between them, from that connection to discover, if we can, what course of action is fitted to that nature and those circumstances. From contemplating the bodily senses, and the organs or instruments adapted to them, we learn that the eye was given to see with, the ear to hear with. In like manner, from considering our inward perceptions and the final causes of them, we collect that the feeling of shame, for instance, was given to prevent the doing of things shameful ; compassion, to carry us to relieve others in distress ; anger, to resist sudden violence offered to ourselves. If, continuing our inquiries in this way, it should at length appear that the nature, the whole nature, of man leads him to and is fitted for that particular course of behaviour which we usually distinguish by the name of virtue, we are authorized to conclude that virtue is the law we are born under, that it was so intended by the Author of our being; and we are buund by the most intimate of all obligations — a regard to our own highest interest and happiness — to conform to it iu all situations and events. Human nature is not simple and uniform, but made up of several parts ; and we can have no just idea of it as a system or constitution, unless Ave take into '^ur view the res4)ects and reia- ' Sc-rm. Ti. I EY THV. KIMTOB 51 tions which these parts have to each other. As the body is not one member, but many, so our inward structure consists of various instincts, appetites, and propensions. Thus far there is no difference between human creatures and brutes. But besides these common passions and affections, there is another principle, peculiar to mankind, that of conscience, moral sense, reflection, call it ^vhat you please, by which they are enabled to review their whole conduct, to approve of some actions in themselves, and to disapprove of others. That this principle Avill of course have some influence on our behaviour, at least at times, will hardly be disputed: br.t the particular influence which it ou^ht to have, the precise degree of power in the regulating of our internal frame that is assigned it by Him who placed it there, is a point of the utmost consequence in itself, and on the determination of which the very hinge of our author's Moral System turns. If the faculty here spoken of be, indeed, what it is asserted to be, in nature and kind superior to every other passion and affection ; if it be given, not merely that it may exert its force occasionally, or as our present humour or fancy may dispose us, but that it may at ail times exercise an uncontrollable authority and govern- meut over all the rest; it will then follow, that, in order to com- plete the idea of human nature, as a system, we must not only take in each particular bias, propension, instinct, which are setri to belong to it, but we must add besides the principle of con- science, together with the subjection that is due to it from all the other appetites and passions: just as the idea of a civil constitu- tion is formed, not barely from enumerating the several members and ranks of which it is composed, but from these considered as acting in various degrees of subordination to each other, and all under the direction of the same supreme authority, whether that authority be vested in one person or more. The view here given of the internal constitution of man, and of the supremacy of conscience, agreeably to the conceptions of Bishop Butler, enables us to comprehend the force of that expres- sion, common to him and the ancient moralists, that virtue consists in following Nature. The meaning cannot be, that it consists in acting agreeably to that propensity of our nature which happens to be the strongest, or which propels us towards certain ol)jects, without any regard to the methods by which they are to be obtained ; but the meaning must be, that virtue consists in the due regulation and subjection of all the other appetites and aff'sctions to the superior faculty of conscience; from a conformity to which alone our actions are properly natural^ or correspondent to the nature, to the whole nature, of such an agent as man. From hence, too, it appears that the Author of our trame is by no means indifferent to virtue and vice, or has left us at liberty to act at random, as humour or appetite may prompt us ; l)ut that every uiaa has the rule . f right within him ; a rule attended in the St M 33 P2EFACE yerj notion of it with authority, and such as has the force of a direction and a command from Him who made us what we are, what course of behaviour is suited to our nature, and which He expects that we should follow. This moral faculty implies also a presentiment and apprehension that the judgment which it passes oa our actions, considered as of good or ill desert, will hereafter be confirmed by the anerring judgment of God; when virtue and happiness, vice and misery, whose ideas are now so closely con- nected, shall be indissolubly united, and the divine government be found to correspond in the most exact proportion to the nature he has given us. Lastly, this just prerogative or supremacy of conscience it is which Mr. Pope has described in his Universal Prayer^ though perhaps he may have expressed it rather too strongly, where he says — " What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than hell to shun, That more than heaven pursue." The reader will observe, that this way of treating the subject of morals, by an appeal to facts, does not at all interfere with that other way, adopted by Dr. Samuel Clarke and others, which begins with inquirmg into the relations and fitnesses of things, but rather illustrates and confirms it. That there are essential differences in the qualities of human actions, established by nature, and that this natural difi"erence of things, prior to and independent of all loill, creates a natural fitness in the agent to act agreeably to it seems as little to be denied as that there is the moral difference before explained, from which we approve and feel a pleasure in what is right, and conceive a distaste to what is wrong. Still, however, when we are endeavouring to establish either this moral or that natural difference, it ought never to be forgotten, or rather it will require to be distinctly shown, that both of these, when traced up to their source, suppose an intelligent Author of nature and moral Ruler of the world, who originally appointed these differences, and by such an appointment has signified his wilt that we should conform to them, as the only effectual method of securing our happiness on the whole under his government*. • " Far be it from me," says the excellent Dr. T. Balguy (Discourse ix.), *'to dispute the reality of a moral principle in the human heart. I feel ita existence : I clearly discern its use and importance. But in no respect is it more important, than as it suggests the idea of a moral Governor. Let thia idea be once effaced, and the principle of conscience will soon be found weak and ineffectual. Its influence on men's conduct has, indeed, been too much undervalued by some philcsophical inquirers. But be that influence, while *t lasts, more or less, it is not a steady and j[vcr??ia)i€/i^ principle of action. Unhappily we always have it in our power to lay it asleep. — Neylect alona will suppress aud stifle it, and bring it almost into a state of stupe fiuction. BY THE EDITOR. 53 And of this consideration our Prelate himgelf was not unmindful ; as may be collected from many expressions in different parts of his writings, and particularly from the following passages in his eleventh Sermon. "It may be allowed, without any prejudice tc the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to us ; that they will, nay, if you please, they ought, to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is impossible there ever should be, any in- consistence between them." And again, " Though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good, as such ; yet, when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not contrary to it."' Besides the general system of morality opened above, oui author, in his volume of Sermons, has stated with accuracy the difference between self-love and benevolence ; in opposition to those who, on the one hand, make the whole of virtue to consist in benevolence^, and to those who, on the other, assert that every particular affection and action is resolvable into self-love. In combating these opinions, he has shown, I think unanswerably, that there are the same kind of indications in human nature, that we were made to promote the happiness of others, as that we were made to promote our own: that it is no just objection to this that we have dispositions to do evil to others as well as good ; for we have also dispositions to do evil as well as good to ourselves, to our own most important interests even in this life, for the sake of gratifying a present passion ; that the thing to be lamented is, not that men have too great a regard to their own real good, but that they have not enough : that benevolence is not more at variance with or unfriendly to self-love than any other particular affection is : and that by consulting the happiness of others a man is so far from lessening his own, that the very endeavour to do so, though he should fail in the accomplishment, is a source of the highest satisfaction and peace of mind?. He has also, in passing, animadverted on the philosopher of Malmsbury, who, in his book " Of Human Nature," has advanced as discoveries in moral science, that benevolence is only the love of power, and compassion the fear of future calamity to ourselves. And this our Author has done, not so much with the design of exposing the false reasoning Nor can anything, less than the terrors of religion, awaken our minds from this dang3rous and deadly sleep. It can never be a matter of indifference to a thA,n1cing man, whether he is to be happy or miserable beyond the grave." ' Serm. xi. ^ See the Second Dissertation " On the Nature of Virtue," at the end of the Analogy. ^ See Serm. i. and xi. and the Preface to the volume of Sermons. 5i PEEFACB of Mr. Ilobbes, but because on so perverse an accGur,t of humaa nature he has raised a system subversive of all justice an<*- honesty'. II. The Religious System of Bishop Butler is chiefly to be col- lected from the treatise entitled, " The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and course of Nature.' "All things are double one against another, and God hath made nothing imperfect."''^ On this single observation of the son of Sirach, the whole fabric of our Prelate's defence of religion, in his Analogy, is raised. Instead of indulging in idle speculations, how the world might possibly have been better than it is — or, for- getful of the difference between hypothesis and fact, attempting to explain the divine economy with respect to intelligent crea- tures, from ])reconceived notions of his own — he first inquires what the constitution of nature, as made known to us in the way of experiment, actually is ; and from this, now seen and acknow- ledged, he endeavours to form a judgment of that larger constitu- tion which religion discovers to us. If the dispensation of Provi- dence we are now under, considered as inhabitants of this world, and having a temporal interest to secure in it, be found, on examination, to be analogous to, and of a piece with, that further dispensation which relates to us as designed for another world, in which we have an eternal interest, depending on our behaviour here ; if both may be traced up to the same general laws, and appear to be carried on according to the same plan of administra- tion : the fair presumption is, that both proceed from one and the same Author. And if the principal parts ol jected to in this latter dispensation be similar to and of the same kind with what we certainly experience under the former; the objections, being clearly inconclusive in one case, because contradicted by plain fact, must, in all reason, be allowed to be inconclusive also iu the other. This way of arguing from what is acknowledged to what is disputed, from things known to other things that resemble them, from that part of the divine establishment which is exposed to our view to that more important one which lies beyond it, is on all hands confessed to be just. By this method Sir Isaac Newton has unfolded the system of nature ; by the same method Bishop Butler has explained the system of grace ; and thus, to use the words of a writer, whom I quote with pleasure, " has formed and concluded a happy alliance between faith and philosophy."^ And although the argument fi-om analogy be allowed to be im- perfect, and by no means sufficient to solve all difficulties respect- ing the government of God, and the designs of his Providence with regard to mankind (a degree of knowledge which we are not ' See the Notes to Serm. i. and v. - Ecclus. xlii. 24. * Mr. Mainwaring's Dissertation, prefixed to his volume of Sermons. Br THE EDITOR 65 furnished with faculties for attaining, at least in the present state) ; yeb surely it is of importance to learn from it, that the natural and moral world are intimately connected, and parts of one stupendous whole or system ; and that the chief o-bjections which are brought against religion may be urged with equal force against the ^'onstitution and course of nature, where they are certainly false in fact. And this information we may derive from the work before us ; the proper design of which, it may be of use to observe, is not to prove the truth of religion, either natural or revealed, l)ut to confirm that proof, already known, by considera- tions from analogy. After this account of the method of reasoning employed by our Author, let us now advert to his manner of applying it, first to the subject of Natural Religion, and secondly to that of Revealed. 1. The foundation of all our hopes and fears is a future life , and with this the Treatise begins. Neither the reason of the thing, nor the analogy of nature, according to Bishop Butler, give ground for imagining that the unknown event, death, will be our destruc- tion. The states in which we have formerly existed, in the womb and in infancy, are not more different from each other than from that of mature age in which we now exist : therefore, that we shall continue to exist hereafter, in a state as different from the present as the present is from those through which we have passed already, is a presumption favoured by the analogy of nature. All that we know from reason concerning death, is the effects it has upon animal bodies: and the frequent instances among men of the intellectual powers continuing in high health and vigour at the very time when a mortal disease is on the point of putting an end to all the powers of sensation, induce us to hope that it may have no effect at all on the human soul, not even so much as to suspend the exercise of its faculties ; though if it have, the suspension of a power by no means implies its extinction, as sleep or a swoon may convince us'. The probability of a future state once granted, an important question arises, How best to secure our interest in that state 1 We find from what passes daily before us, that the constitution of nature admits of misery as well as happiness ; that both of these are th^ consequences of our own actions ; and these consequences ive are enabled to foresee. Therefore, that our happiness or misery m a future world may depend on our own actions also, and that rewards or punishments hereafter may follow our good or ill behaviour here, is but an appointment of the same sort with what we experience under the divine government, according to the regular course of nature."^ This supposition is confirmed from another circumstance, that the natural government of God, under which we now live, is alsa ' Pazt I. chap. L ^ Chap. iL 56 PREFACE. moral ; in which rewards and punishments are the consequencea of actions, considered as virtuous and vicious. Not that every man is rewarded or punished here in exact proportion to his desert ; for the essential tendencies of virtue and vice, to produce happiness and the contrary, are often hindered from taking efi'ect from accidental causes. However, there are plainly the rudiments and beginnings of a righteous administration to be discerned in the constitution of nature ; from whence we are led to expect that these accidental hindrances will one day be removed, and the rule of distributive justice obtain completely in a more perfect state'. The moral government of God, thus established, implies in the notion of it some sort of trial, or a moral possibility of acting Avrong, as well as right, in those who are the subjects of it. And the doctrine of religion, that the present life is in fact a state of probation for a future one, is rendered credible, from its being analogous throughout to the general conduct of Providence towards us with respect to this world ; in which prudence is neces- sary to secure our temporal interest, just as we are taught that virtue is necessary to secure our eternal interest; and both are trusted to ourselves *. But the present life is not merely a state of probation, implying in it difficulties and danger ; it is also a state of discipline and improvement ; and that both in our temporal and religious capa- city. Thus childhood is a state of discipline for youth, youth for manhood, and that for old age. Strength of body, and maturity of understanding, are acquired by degrees ; and neither of them without continual exercise and attention on our part, not only in the beginning of life, but through the whole course of it. So again with respect to our religious concerns, the present world is fitted to be, and to good men is, in event, a state of discipline and improvement for a future one. The several passions and propen- sions implanted in our hearts incline us, in a multitude of in- stances, to forbidden pleasures : this inward infirmity is increased by various snares and temptations, perpetually occurring from without: hence arises the necessity of recollection and self-govern- ment, of withstanding the calls of appetite, and forming our minds to habits of piety and virtue ; habits, of which we are ea- pable, and which, to creatures in a state of moral imperfection, and fallen from their original integrity, must be of the greatest use, as an additional security, over and above the principle of con<^ science, from the dangers to which we are exposed \ Nor is the credibility here given, by the analogy of nature, to the general doctrine of religion, destroyed or weakened by any notions concerning necessity. Of itself it is a mere word, the sign of an abstract idea : and as much requires an agent, that is, a ^ Part 5. clmp. iu. » Ch»p. it =» Chap, v. BY THE EDFTOB 57 necessary agent, in order to effect anything, as freedom requires a free agent. Admitting it to be speculatively true, if considered as inllueucing practice, it is the same as false : for it is matter of ex- perience, that, with regard to our present interest, and as inhabit- ants of this world, we are treated as if we were free ; and there- fore the analogy of nature leads us to conclude, that, with regard to our future interest, and as designed for another world, we shall be treated as free also. Nor does the opinion of necessity, sup- posing it possible, at all affect either the general proof of religion, or its external evidenced Still objections may be made against the wisdom and goodness of the divine government, to which analogy, which can only show the truth or credibility of facts, affords no answer. Yet even here analogy is of use, if it suggest that the divine government is a scheme or system, and not a number of unconnected acts, and that this system is also above our comprehension. Now the go- vernment of the natural world appears to be a system of this kind ; with parts, related to each other, and together composing a whole : in which system ends are brought about by the use of means, many of which means, before experience, would have been sus- pected to have had a quite contrary tendency ; which is carried on by general laws, similar causes uniformly producing similar effects ; the utility of which general laws, and the inconveniences which would probably arise from the occasional or even secret sus- pension of them, we are in some sort enabled to discern ^j but of the whole we are incompetent judges, because of the small part which comes within our view. Reasoning then from what we know, it is highly credible that the government of the moral world is a system also, carried on by general laws, and in which ends are accomplished by the intervention of means ; and that both consti- tutions, the natural and the moral, are so connected, as to form together but one scheme. But of this scheme, as of that of the natural world taken alone, we are not qualified to judge, on ac- count of the mutual respect of the several parts to each other and to the whole, and our own incapacity to survey the whole, or, with accuracy, any single part. All objections therefore to the wisdom and goodness of the divine government may be founded merely on our ignorance^ ; and to such objections our ignorance is the proper, and a satisfactory answer*. 2. The chief difficulties concerning Natural Religion being now removed, our Author proceeds, in the next place, to that ' Part I. cliap. vi. 2 See a treatise on Divine Benevolence, by Dr. Thomas Balguy, part iL 2 The ignorance of man is a favourite doctrine with Bishop Butler. It occurs in the Second Part of the Analogy ; it makes the subject of his Fif* teentli Sermon ; and we meet with it again in his Charge. Whether som* times it be not carried to a length which is excessive, may admit of doubt f ' fart I. chap. vii. 68 PREFACB vrhicli is Revealed ; and as an Introduction to an inquiry into th4 ^edibility of Christianity, besjins with the consideration of iti importance. The importance of Christianity appears in two respects. First, in its being a republication of Natural Religion, ia its native sim- plicity, with authority, and with circumstances of advantage ; as- certaining in many instances of moment, what before was only probable, and particularly confirming the doctrine of a future state of rewards and punishments '. Secondly, as revealing anew disjjensation of Providence, originating from the pure love and mercy of God, and conducted by the mediation of his Son, and the guidance of his Spirit for the recovery and salvation of man- kind, represented in a state of apostacy and ruin. This account of Christianity being admitted to be just, and the distinct offices of these three divine Persons being once discovered to us, we are as much obliged in point of duty to acknowledge the relations we stand in to the Son and Holy Ghost, as our Mediator and Sancti- fier, as we are obliged in point of duty to acknowledge the relation we stand in to God the Father ; although the two former of these relations be learnt from Revelation only, and in the last we are instructed by the light of nature ; the obligation in either case arising from the offices themselves, and not at all depending on the manner in which they are made known to us '^. The presum})tions against Revelation in general are, that it is not discoverable by reason, that it is unlike to what is so disco- vered, and that it was introduced and supported by miracles. But in a scheme so large as that of the universe, unbounded in extent and everlasting in duration, there must of necessity be number- ' Admirable to this purpose are the words of Dr. T. Balguj', in the Ninth of his Discourses already referred to, p. xxv. " The doctrine of a life to come, some persons will say, is a doctrine oi natniul religion; and can never there- fore be properly alleged to show the importance of revelation. They judge perhaps from the frame of the world, that the present system is imjJe^fect; they see designs in it not jet completed; and they think they have grounds for expecting ttJio^Aer state, in which these designs shall be /ar^Aer carried on, and brought to a conclusion, worthy of infinite wisdom. I am not concerned to dispute the yi(5iHes5 of this reasoning; nor do I wish to dispute it. But how far will it reach? Will it lead us to the Christian doctrine of a judg- ment to come? Will it give us the prospect of an eternity oi happiness? Nothing of all this. It shows us only, that death is not the end of our being ; that we are likely to pass hereafter into other systems, n)ore favour- able than the present to the great ends of God's providence, the virtue and the happiness of his intelligent creatures. But into tvhat systems we are to be removed; what new scenes are to be presented to us, either of pleasure or pain; what new parts we shall have to act, and to what trials and temptations we may yet be exposed ; on all these subjects we know just nothing. Thai our happiness/or ever depends on our conduct liere, is a most important pro> position, which we learn only from revelation" Part I . chap, i BV THE EDITOR 59 less circumstances which are heyond the reach of our faculties to discern, and which can only be known by divine illumination. And both in the natural and moral government of the world, under which we live, we find many things unlike one to another, and therefore ought not to wonder if the same unlikeness obtain between things visible and invisible ; although it be far from true, that revealed religion is entirely unlike the constitution of nature, as analogy may teach us. Nor is there anything incredible in Kevelation, considered as miraculous ; whether miracles be sup- posed to have been performed at the beginning of the world, or after a course of nature has been established. Not at the hegin- ning of the ivorld; for then there was either no course of nature lit all, or a power must have been exerted totally diiferent from what that course is at present : all men and animals cannot have been born, as they are now ; but a pair of each sort must have been produced at first, in a way altogether unlike to that in which they have been since produced ; unless we affirm, that men and animals have existed from eternity in an endless succession ; one miracle therefore at least there must have been at the beginning of the world, or at the time of man's creation. Not after the settle- ment of a course of nature, on account of miracles being contrary to that course, or, in other words, contrary to experience ; for, in order to know whether miracles, worked in attestation of a divine religion, be contrary to experience or not, we ought to be ac- quainted with other cases, similar or parallel to those in which miracles are alleged to have been wrought. But where shall we find such similar or parallel cases % The world which we inhabit affords none : we know of no extraordinary revelations from God to man, but those recorded in the Old and New Testament ; all of which were established by miracles ; it cannot therefore be said that miracles are incredible, because contrary to experience, when all the experience we have is in favour of miracles, and on the side of religion '. Besides, in reasoning concerning miracles, they ^ " In the common affairs of life, common experience is sufficient to direct us. But will common experience serve to guide our judgment concerning the fall Rud redeviption of mankind] From what we see every day, ian we explain the commencement, or foretell the dissolution, of the world"? To judge of events like these, we should be conversant in the history of other planets ; should be distinctly informed of God's various dispensations to all the different orders of rational beings. Instead then of grounding our reli- gious opinions on what we call expeHence, let us apply to a more certain guide; let us hearken to the testimony oi God himself. The credibility of kuman testvmony, and the conduct of human agents, are subjects perfectly within the reach of our natural faculties; and we ought to desire no hrmer foundation for our belief of religion than for the judgments we form in the common affairs of life: where we see a little plain testimony easily outweighs the most specious conjectures, and not seldom even strong probabilities." Dr. Balguy's Fourth Charge. See also an excellent pamphlet entitled " Hemarki 60 IREFACE ought not to be compared with common natural events, but with uncommon appearances, such as comets, magnetism, electricity; which, to one acquainted only with the usual phenomena of na- ture, and the commun powers of matter, must, before proof of their actual existence, be thought incredible ^ The presumption against Revelation in general being des- patched, objections against the Christian Revelation, in particular against the scheme of it, as distinguished from objections against its evidence, are considered next. Now supposing a revelation to be really given, it is highly probable beforehand that it mu»t contain many things appearing to us liable to objections. Tue acknowledged dispensation of nature is very different from what we should have expected : reasoning, then, from analogy, the revealed dispensation, it is credible, would be also different. Nor are we in any sort judges at what time, or in what degree, or man- ner, it is fit or expedient for God to instruct us in things confessedly of the greatest use, either by natural reason, or by supernatural information. Thus, arguing on speculation only, and without ex- perience, it would seem very unlikely that so important a remedy as that provided by Christianity, for the recovery of mankind from ruin, should have been for so many ages withheld; and, when at last vouchsafed, should be imparted to so few; and, after it has been imparted, should be attended with obscurity and doubt. And just so we might have argued, before experience, concerning the remedies provided in nature for bodily diseases, to which by nature we are exposed : for many of these were unknown to man- kind for a number of ages; are known but to few now; some important ones probably not discovered yet; and those which are, neither certain in their application, nor universal in their use: and the same mode of reasoning that Avould lead us to expect they should have been so, would lead us to expect that the neces- sity of them should have been superseded, by there being na diseases; as the necessity of the Christian scheme, it may be thought, might also have been superseded by preventing the fall of man, so that he should not have stood in need of a Redeemer at all 2. As to objections against the wisdom and goodness of Chris- tianity, the same answer may be applied to them as was to the like objection against the constitution of nature. For here also, Christianity is a scheme or economy, composed of various parts, forming a whole; in which scheme means are used for the accom- plishing of ends ; and which is conducted by general laws, of all of which we know as little as we do of the constitution of nature. And the seeming want of wisdom or goodness in this system is ta on Mr. Hume's Essay on the Natural History of Religion," sect. 5 ; and tb* Sixth of Dr. Powell's Discourses. * Part II., chap. ii. * Chap, iii. BY THE EDITOR. (51 Le ascrioed to the same cause as the like appearances of defects in the natural system ; our inability to discern the whole scheme, and our ignorance of the relation of those parts which are dis- cernible to others beyond our view. The objections against Christianity as a matter of fact, and against the wisdom and goodness of it, having been obviated together, the chief of them are now to be considered distinctly. One of these, which is levelled against the entire system itself, is of this sort : the restoration of mankind, represented in Scripture as the great design of the Gospel, is described as requiring a long series of means, and persons, and dispensations, before it can be brought to its completion ; whereas the whole ought to have been effected at once. Now everything we see in the course of nature shows the folly of this objection. For in the natural course of Providence ends are brought about by means, not operating immediately and at once, but deliberately, and in a way of pro- gression, one thing being subservient to another, this to somewhat further. The change of seasons, the ripening of fruits, the growth of vegetable and animal bodies, are instances of this. And there- fore, that the same progressive method should be followed in the dispensation of Christianity as is observed in the common dispen- sation of Providence, is a reasonable expectation, justified by the analogy of nature '. Another circumstance objected to in the Christian scheme is the appointment of a Mediator, and the saving of the world through him. But the visible government of God being actually administered in this way, or by the mediation and instrumentality of others, there can be no general presumption against an appoint- ment of this kinrl, against his invisible government being exer- cised in the same manner. We have seen already that with regard to ourselves this visible government is carried on by rewards and punishments ; for happiness and misery are the consequences of our own actions, considered as virtuous and vicious ; and these consequences we are enabled to foresee. It might have been imagined, before consulting experience, that after we had rendered ourselves liable to misery by our own ill conduct, sorrow for what was past, and behaving well for the future, would, alone and of themselves, have exempted us from deserved punishment, and restored us to the divine favour. But the fact is otherwise ; and real reformation is often found to be of no avail, so as to secure the criminal from poverty, sickness, infamy, and death, the never- failing attendants on vice and extra- vagance (exceeding a certain degree. By the course of nature then it appears, God does not always pardon a sinner on his repentance. Yet there is provision made, even in nature, that the miseries which men bring on themselves by unlawful indulgences may in ' Pai; \1. tbtp. ;v C2 PREFACE many cases be mitigated, and in some remoyed ; partly by extra- ordinary exertions of the offender himself, but more especially and frequently by the intervention of others, who voluntarilyj and from motives of compassion, submit to labour and sorrow, such as produce long and lasting inconveniences to themselves, aa the means of rescuing another from the wretched effects of formei imprudences. Vicarious punishment, therefore, or one person's sufferings contributing to the relief of another, is a providential disposition in the economy of nature': and it ought not to be matter of surprise, if by a method analogous to this we be redeemed from sin and misery in the economy of grace. That mankind at present are in a state of degradation, different from that in which they were originally created, is the very ground of the Christian revelation, as contained in the Scriptures. Whether we acquiesce in the account that our being placed in such a state is owing to the crime of our first parents, or choose to ascribe it to any other cause, it makes no difference as to our condition: the vice and unhappiness of the world are still there, notwithstanding all our suppositions ; nor is it Christianity that hath put us into this state. We learn also from the same Scriptures, what expe- rience and the use of expiatory sacrifices from the most early times might have taught us, that repentance alone is not sufficient to prevent the fatal consequences of past transgressions ; but that still there is room for mercy, and that repentance shall be avail- able, though not of itself, yet through the mediation of a divine Person, the Messiah ; who, from the sublimest principles of com- passion, when Ave were dead in trespasses and si7is'^, suffered and died, the innocent for the guilty, the just for the unjust ^, that we might have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins*. In what way the death of Christ was of that efficacy it is gaid to be, in procuring the reconciliation of sinriers, the Scrip- tures have not explained ; it is enough that the doctrine is revealed ; that it is not contrary to any truths which reasou and experience teach us ; and that it accords in perfect harmony ' Dr. Arthur Ashley Sykes, from whose writings some good may be col- lected out of a multitude of things of a contrary tendency, in what he is pleased to call " The Scripture Doctrine of Redemption" (see the observa- tions on the texts cited in his first chapter, and also in chapters the fifth and sixth), opposes what is here advanced by Bishop Butler; quoting his words, but without mentioning his name. If what is said above b^^ not thought a 61'fficient answer to the objections of this author, the reader may do well to cor.sult a Charge " On the Use and Abuse of Philosophy in the Study of Religion," by the late Dr. Powell; who seems to me to have had the ob- •ervations of Dr. Sykes in his view, where he is confuting the reasonings oi jertain philosnphisins: divines against the doctrine of Atonement. — Powell'a Discourses, Charge III., p. 342-348. « Ephea. ii. i. ^ 1 Pet. iil. 18. ♦ Caloss. i. U. BY IHE EDITOR. 63 wit.li the usual method of the divine conduct in the government of the world'. Again, it hath been said, that if the Christian revelation wert true it must have been universal, and could not have been left upon doubtful evidence. But God, in his natural providence, dispenses his gifts in great variety, not only among creatures of the same species, but to the same individuals also at different times. Plad the Christian revelation been universal at first, yet^ from the diversity of men's abilities, both of mind and body, theii various means of improvement, and other external advantages^ some persons must soon have been in a situation, with respect to religious knowledge, much superior to that of others, as much perhaps as they are at present: and all men will be equitably dealt with at last; and to whom little is given, of him little will be required. Then as to the evidence for religion being left doubtful, difficulties of this sort, like difficulties in practice, afford scope and opportunity for a virtuous exercise of the understand- ing, and dispose the mind to acquiesce and rest satisfied with any evidence that is real. In the daily commerce of life, men are obliged to act upon great uncertainties, with regard to success in their temporal pursuits ; and the case with regard to religion is parallel. However, though religion be not intuitively true, the proofs of it which we have are amply sufficient in reason to induce us to embrace it, and dissatisfaction with those proofs may pos- sibly be men's own fault*. Nothing remains but to attend to the positive evidence there is for the truth of Christianity. Now, besides its direct and funda- mental proofs, which are miracles and prophecies, there are many collaterial circumstances which may be united into one view, and altogether may be considered as making up one argument. In this way of treating the subject, the revelation, whether real or otherwise, may be supposed to be wholly historical ; the desio:n of which appears to be to give an account of the condition of religion and its professors, with a concise narration of the political stato of things, as far as religion is affected by it during a great length of time, near six thousand years of which are already past. IVIore particularly it comprehends an account of God's entering into covenant with one nation, the Jews, that he would be their God, and that they should be his people ; of his often interposing in their affairs ; giving them the promise, and afterwards the posses- sion, of a flourishing country ; assuring them of the greatest national prosperity in case of their obedience, and threatening the severest national punishment in case they forsook him, and joined in the iablatry of their pagan neighbours. It contains also a prediction of a particular person to appear in the fulness of time, in whom all the promises of God to the Jews were to be fulfilled: * fart a chap. r. '^ Chap. vi. 64 PREFACE. and it relates, that, at the time expected, a person did actually appear, assuming to be the Saviour foretold ; that he worked various miracles among them, in confirmation of his divine authority ; and, as wa?s foretold also, was rejected and put to death by the very people who had long desired and waited for his coming ; but that his religion, in spite of all opposition, was established in the world by his disciples, invested with supernatural powers for that purpose ; of the fate and fortunes of which religion there is a prophetical description, carried down to the end of time. Let any one now, after reading the above history, and, not knowing whether the whole were not a fiction, be supposed to ask, whether all that is here related be true ? and, instead of a direct answer, let him be informed of the several acknowledged facts which are found to correspond to it in real life ; and then let him compare the history and facts together, and observe the astonishing coin- cidence of both: such a joint review must appear to him of very great weight, and to amount to evidence somewhat more than human. And unless the whole series, and every particular cir- cumstance contained in it, can be thought to have arisen from accident, the truth of Christianity is proved ^ The view here given of the moral and religious systems of Bishop Butler, it will immediately be perceived, is chiefly in- tended for younger students, especially for students in divinitj^ ; to whom it is hoped it may be of use, so as to encourage them to peruse with proper diligence the original works of the author himself. For it may be necessary to observe, that neither of the volumes of this excellent prelate are addressed to those who read for amusement, or curiosity, or to get rid of time. All subjects are not to be comprehended with the same ease; and morality and religion, when treated as sciences, each accompanied with difficulties of its own, can neither of them be understood as they ought without a very peculiar attention. But morality and religion ' Chap. vii. To the Analogy are subjoined two Dissertations, both ori- ginally inserted in the body of the work. One on Personal Identity, in which are contained some strictures on Locke, who asserts that con- sciousness makes or constitutes personal identity; whereas, as our Author observes, consciousness makes only personality, or is necessary to the idea of a person, i. e., a thinking intelligent being, but presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, personal identity; just as knowledge presupposes truth, but does not constitute it. Consciousness of past actions does indeed show us the identity of ourselves, or gives us a certam assurance that we are the same persons or living agents now which we were at the time to which our remembrance can look back; but still we should be the same per- sons as we were, though this consciousness of what is past were wanting, though all that had been done by us formerly were forgotten ; unless it bo true that no person has existed a single moment beyond what he can re- Biember. The other Dissertatio i is 0«. the Nature (>/' TirfJi^;, which pi o- perly belongs to the moral systeni oi our Author already explained. BY THE EDITOa. (35 arc not merely to be studiea as sciences, or as being speculatively true ; they are to be regarded In another and higher light, — as the rule of life and manners, as containing authoritative directions by which to regulate our faith and practice. And in this view, the infinite importance of them considered, it can never be an indif- ferent matter whether they be received or rejected. For both claim to be the voice of God ; and whether they be so or not cannot be known till their claims be impartially examined. If they, indeed, come from Him, we are bound to conform to them at our peril' nor is it left to our choice whether we will submit to the obligations they impose upon us or not ; for submit to them wo must, in such a sense as to incur the punishments denounced by both against wilful iisobedience to their injunctions. I G6 TEE LIFE OF DE. BUTLER Dr. Joseph Butler, a prelate of the most distinguished character and abilities, was born at Wantage, in Berkshire, in the year 1692, His father, Mr. Thomas Butler, who was a substantial and repu- table shopkeeper in that town, observing in his son Joseph ' an excellent genius and inclination for learning, determined to educate him for the ministry among the Protestant Dissenters of the Presbyterian denomination. For this purpose, after he had gone through a proper course of grammatical literature at the free grammar-school of his native place, under the care of the Rev. Mr. Philip Barton, a clergyman of the Church of England, he was sent to a Dissenting academy, then kept at Gloucester, but which was soon afterwards removed to Tewkesbury. The principal tutor of this academy was Mr. Jones, a man of uncommon abilities and knowledge, who had the honour of training up several scholars, who became of great eminence both in the Established Church and among the Dissenters. At Tewkesbury Mr. Butler made an extraordinary progress in the study of divinity ; of which he gave a remarkable proof in the letters addressed by him, while he resided at Tewkesbury, to Dr. Samuel Clarke, laying before him the doubts that had arisen in his mind, concerning the conclusiveness of som« arguments in the Doctor's demonstration of the being and attributes of God. The first of these letters was dated the 4th of November, 1713 ; and the sagacity and depth of thought displayed in it imme- diately excited Dr. Clarke's particular notice. This condescension encouraged Mr. Butler to address the Doctor again upon the same subject, which likewise was answered by him ; and the corre- spondence being carried on in three other letters, the whole was annexed to the celebrated treatise before mentioned, and the collection has been retained in all the subsequent editions of that work. The management of this correspondence was entrusted by Mr. Butler to his friend and fellow-pupil, ]\Ir. Seeker, who, in order to conceal the affair, undertook to convey the letters to the post- office at Gloucester, and to bring back Dr. Clarke's answers. When ' He w;i8 the youngest of eight children. TUE ;.IFE OF DR. BUTLER. 67 Ml. Butler's name was discovered to the Doctor, the candour, modesty, and good sense, with which he had written, immediatel_y procured him the friendship of that eminent and excellent man. Our young student was not, however, during his continuance at Tewkesbury, solely employed in metaphysical speculations and inquiries. Another subject of his serious consideration was, the propriety of his becoming a Dissenting minister. Accordingly, he entered into an examination of the principles of nonconformity ; the result of which was such a dissatisfaction with them as deter- mined him to conform to the Established Church. This intention was, at first, disagreeable to his father, who endeavoured to divert him from his purpose ; and, with that view, called in the assistance of some eminent Presbyterian divines ; but, finding his son's reso- lution to be fixed, he at length sufi"ered him to be removed to Oxford, where he was admitted a commoner of Oriel College, on the 17th of March, 1714. At what time he took Orders doth not appear, nor who the Bishop was by whom he was ordained ; but it is certain that he entered into the Church soon after his admission at Oxford, if it be true, as is asserted, that he sometimes assisted Mr. Edward Talbot in the divine service, at his living of Hendred, near Wantage. With this gentleman, who was the second son ot Dr. William Talbot, successively Bishop of Oxford, Salisbury, and Durham, JMr. Butler formed an intimate friendship at Oriel College ; which friendship laid the foundation of all his subsequent pre- ferments, and procured for him a very honourable situation when he was only twenty-six years of age. For it was in 1718 that, at the recommendation of Mr. Talbot, in conjunction with that ot Dr. Clarke, he was appointed by Sir Joseph Jekyll to be preacher at the Rolls. This was three years before he had taken any degree at the University, where he did not go out Bachelor of Law till the 10th of June, 1721, which, however, was as soon as that degree could suitably be conferred upon him. Mr. Butler continued at the Rolls till 1726; in the beginning of which year he published, in one volume, octavo, "Fifteen Sermons preached at that Chapel." In the meanwhile, by the patronage of Dr. Talbot, Bishop of Durham, to whose notice he had been recommended (together with Mr. Benson and Mr. Seeker) by Mr. Edward Talbot, on his death- bed, our Author had been presented first to the rectory of Haughton, near Darlington, and afterwards to that of Stanhope, in the same diocese. The benefice of Haughton was given to him in 1722, and that of Stanhope in 1725. At Haughton there was a necessity for rebuilding a great part of the parsonage-house, and Mr. Butler had neither money nor talents for that work. Mr. Seeker, there- fore, who had always the interest of his friends at heart, and had acquired a very considerable influence with Bishop Talbot, per- suaded that Prelate to give Mr. Butler, in exchange for Haughton, the rectory of Stanhope, which was not only free from any such incumbrance, but was likewise of much aruperior valuj, being F 2 68 THE LIFE OF indeed one of tlie richest parsonages in England. "Whilst cur Author continued preacher at the Rolls Chapel, he divided his time between his duty in town and country ; but when he quitted the Rolls, he resided during seven years wholly at Stanhope, in the conscientious discharge of every obligation appertaining to a good parish priest. This retirement, however, was too solitary for his disposition, which had in it a natural cast of gloominess. And though his recluse hours were by no means lost, either to private improvement or public utility, yet he felt at times, very painfully, the want of that select society of friends to which he had been accustomed, and which could inspire him with the greatest cheer- fulness. Mr. Seeker, therefore, who knew this, was extremely anxious to draw him out into a more active and conspicuous scene, and omitted no opportunity of expressing this desire to such as he thought capable of promoting it. Having himself been appointed King's Chaplain in 1732, he took occasion, in a conver- sation which he had the honour of holding with Queen Caroline, to mention to her his friend Mr. Butler. The Queen said she thought he had been dead. Mr. Seeker assured her he was not. Yet her Majesty afterwards asked Archbishop Blackburn, if he was not dead : his answer was, " No, madam ; but he is buried." Mr. Seeker continuing his purpose of endeavouring to bring his friend out of his retirement, found means, upon Mr. Charles Talbot's being made Lord Chancellor, to have Mr. Butler recommended to him for his Chaplain. His Lordship accepted, and sent for him; and this promotion calling him to town, he took Oxford in his way, and was admitted there to the degree of Doctor of Law, on the 8th of December, 1733. The Lord Chancellor, who gave him also a prebend in the church of Rochester, had consented that he should reside at his parish of Stanhope one half of the year. Dr. Butler being thus brought back into the world, his merit and his talents soon introduced him to particular notice, and paved the way for his rising to those high dignities which he afterwards enjoyed. In 1736 he was appointed Clerk of the Closet to Queen Caroline; and in the same year he presented to her Majesty a copy of his excellent Treatise, entitled " The Analogy :f Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." His attendance upon his Royal Mistress, by her especial command, was from seven to nine in the evening every day ; and though this particular relation to that excellent and learned Queen was goon determined by her death, in 1737, yet he had been so effectually recommended by her, as well as by the late Lord Chancellor Talbot, to his Majesty's favour, that in the next year he was raised to the highest order of the Church, by a nomination to the Bishopric of Bristol; to which see he was consecrated on the 3rd of December, 1738. King George II. not being satisfied with this proof of his regard to Dr. Butler, promoted him, in 1740 to the Deanery of St. Paurs, London, into which he w£^ 1>E BUTLER 69 installed on the 24tli of May in that year. Finding the demandi"' of this dignity to be incompatible with his parish duty at Stanhope» he immediately resigned that rich benefice. Besides our Prelate's unremitted attention to his peculiar obligations, he was called upon to preach several discourses on public occasions, which were afterwards separately printed, and have since been annexed to the latter editions of the Sermons at the Rolls Chapel. In 1746, upon the death of Dr. Egerton, Bishop of Hereford, Dr. Butler was made Clerk of the Closet to the King; and, on the 16th of October 1750, he received another distinguished mark of his Majesty's favour, by being translated to the see of Durham. This was on the 16th of October in that year, upon the decease of Dr. Edward Chandler. Our Prelate being thus appointed to preside over a diocese with which he had long been connected, delivered his first, and indeed his last Charge to his Clergy, at his primary visitation in 1751. The principal object of it was " External Religion." The Bishop having observed, with deep concern, the great and growing neglect of serious piety in the kingdom, insisted strongly on the usefulness of outward forms and institutions, in fixing and preserving a sense of devotion and duty in the minds of men. In doing this he was thought by several persons to speak too favourably of Pagan and Popish ceremonies, and to countenance, in a certain degree, the cause of superstition. Under that apprehension, an able and spirited writer, who was understood to be a Clergyman of the Church of England, pub- lished, in 1752, a pamphlet, entitled "A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance of External Religion ; occasioned by some passages in the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Durham's Charge to the Clergy of that Diocese ; — Humbly addressed to his Lord- ship." Many persons, however, and we believe the greater part of the Clergy of the diocese, did not think our Prelate's Charge so exceptionable as it appeared to this author. The Charge, being printed at Durham, and having never been annexed to any of Dr. Butler's other works, is now become extremely scarce ; and it is observable, that it is the only one of his publications which ever produced him a direct literary antagonist. By this promotion, our worthy Bishop was furnished with ample means of exerting the virtue of charity; a virtue which eminently abounded in him, and the exercise of which was his highest de- light. But this gratification he did not long enjoy. He had been but a short time seated in his new bishopric, when his health began visibly to decline ; and having been complimented, during his in- disposition, upon account of his great resignation to the Divine will, he is said to have expressed some regret that he should be taken from the present world so soon after he had been rendered capable of becoming much more useful in it. In his illness ha "was carried to Bristol, to try the waters of that place ; but these proTing ineffectual, he removed to Bath, where, being past recovery 70 THE LIFE OF he died on the 16th of June, 1752. His corpse was conveyed to Bristol, and interred in the cathedral there, where a monument, with an inscription, is erected to his memory. On the greatness of Bishop Butler's character we need not en- large ; for his profound knowledge, and the prodigious strength of his mind, are amply displayed in his incomparable writings. His piety was of the most serious and fervent, and, perhaps, somewhat of the ascetic kind. His benevolence was warm, generous, and diffusive. Whilst he was Bishop of Bristol, he expended, in re- pairing and improving the episcopal palace, four thousand pounds^, which is said to have been more than the whole revenues of the bishopric amounted to during his continuance in that see. Be- sides his private benefactions, he was a contributor to the infirmary at Bristol, and a subscriber to three of the hospitals at London, He was likewise a principal promoter, though not the first founder, of the infirmary at Newcastle, in Northumberland. In supporting the hospitality and dignity of the rich and powerful diocese of Durham, he was desirous of imitating the spirit of his patron, Bishop Talbot. In this spirit he set apart three days every week for the reception and entertainment of the principal gentry of the country. Nor were even the Clergy who had the poorest bene- fices neglected by him. He not only occasionally invited them to dine with him, but condescended to visit them at their respective parishes. By his will he left five hundred pounds to the Society for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and some legacies to his friends and domestics. His executor and residuary legatee sv'as his chaplain, the Rev. Dr. Nathanael Forster, a di\7ine of distinguished literature. Bishop Butler was never married. Soon after his decease, the following lines, by way of epitaph, were written concerning him ; and were printed first, if we recc!lect aright, in the London Magazine : Beneath this marble Butler lies entomb'd, Who, with a soul inflamed by love divine, His life in presence of his God consumed, Like the bright lamps before the holy shrine. His aspect pleasing, mind with learning fraught, His eloquence was like a chain of gold, That the wild passions of mankind controU'd ; Merit, wherever to be found, he sought. Desire of transient riches he had none ; These he, with bounteous hand, did well dispense; Bent to fulfill the ends of Providence ; His heart still fix'd on an immortal crown. His heart a mirror was, of purest kind, Where the bright image of his Maker shined ; Reflecting faithful to the throne above, Th' irradiant glories of the Mystic Dove. Ttie following epitaph, said to be writteo by Dr. Nathanad DR. BUTLER. 71 Forsfer, is inscribed on a flat marble stone, in the cathedral church of Bristol, placed over the Sj)ot where the remains of Bishop Butler are deposited; and which, as it is now a' most obliterated^ it niay bo worth while here to preserv i : H. S Reverendus admodum in Christo Pater JOSEPHUS BUTLER, LL.D. Hujusce primo Diceceseos Deinde Dunelmensis Episcopus. Qualis quantusque Vir erat Sua libentissime agnovit aetas : Et si quid Praesuli aut Scriptori ad famam valent Mens altissima, Ingenii perspicacis et subacti Vis, Animusque pius, simplex, candidus, liberalis, Mortui baud facile evanescet memoria. Obiit Bathoniae 16 Kalend. Jiilii, A.D. 1762. Annos natus 60. INTRODUCTION. Probable evidence is essentially distinguished from demonstra tive 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 pro- bably true. But that the slightest possible presumption is of the nature of a probability, appears from hence; that such low pre- sumption 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 presumption, 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, i. e., like some truth, or true event (verisimile) ; like it, in itself, in its evidence, in some more or fewer of its circumstances '. 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 in- stances, 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 commonly, or always, so far as our observation reaches, come to pass at like distances of time, or place, ' He observes, with reference to this subject, ** Though the common experience of the ordinary course of things have justly a mighty influence on the minds of men, to make them give or refuse credit to anything pro- posed to their belief, yet there is 07ie case wherein the strangeness of the fact lessens not the assent to a fair testimony given of it. For where such supernatural events are suitable to ends aimed at by Him vv^ho has the power to change the course of nature, then, under such circumstances, they may be Jitter to procure belief, hy how much the more they are beyond or contrary to ordinary observation. This is the proper case with miracles, which, well attested, do not only find credit themselves, but give it also to other truths which need such confirmation.'' — JSd. INTRODUCTION V3 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 likewise the rule and measure of our hopes and fears concern- ing 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 ; 1 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's becoming hard, because he had always observed it to be fluid and yielding ; we, on the contrary, from analogy conclude, that there is no presump- tion at all against this*; that it is supposable 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, i. e., ground for an expectation without any doubt of it, in some part or other of the winter. Probable evidence, in its very nature, affords but an imperfect 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 pro- bable to an infinite Intelligence ; since it cannot but be discerned absolutely as it is in itself — certainly true, or certainly 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 greater presumption on one side, though in the lowest degree greater ; this determines the question, even ' The story is thus told by Mr. Locke in the "Chapter of Probability:" — " A Dutch ambassador, entertaining the King of Siam with the particu- larities of Holland, which he was inquisitive after, amongst other things told him, that the water in his country would sometimes be so hard in cold weather that men walked upon it, and that it would bear an elephant, if he were there. To which the king replied, ' Hitherto I have believed the strange things you have told me, because I looked upon you as a sober fair man ; but now I am sure you lie.' " — Ed. ■■"' But it has been well observed by Dr. Leland, that experience may assure us thatfacU or events are possible, hut not that the contrary is impossible. The greatest uniformity and frequency of experience cannot prove the certainty of an event, nor even afford the least probability that it would never happen otherwise. For aught we know, there may be occasions on which it would fail, and secret causes in the frame of things which sometimes may counteract Ihoee by which it is produced. — Ed. 74 INTRODDCTIOIT. in matters of speculation ; and in matters of practice, will lay ua under an absolute and formal obligation, in point of prudence and of interest, to act upon that presumption or low prol>ability, though it be so low as to leave the mind in very great doubt which is tlie truth. For surely a man is as really bound in prudence to do what upon the whole appears, aecording to the best of his judg- ment, 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 show- ing one side of a question to be as supposable and credible as the other: nay, such as but amount to much less even than this. For numberless instances might be mentioned respecting the common 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 u})0n an even chance, but upon much less, and where the pro- bability 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 liketiess^ 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 nave 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 various degrees, towards determining our judgment and our practice. Nor does it in anywise 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 ap- pear to admit of in practical matters, may find other cases in ' See Part II. chap. ti. ^ Likeness, that is, of ratios or relations, Xiyui aftotoTtts (Archbishop Whately's " Rhetoric"). In every analojiical argument there must be two ratios, and, of course, two terms in each ratio. The ratios must be distinct, but all the four terms need not; one term ni;iy be repeated in each ratio, and so three distinct terms are sufficient. One ratio being better known than another, Berves to explain it. Thus in Orlgen's and Butler's analogical arguments, one term is repeated in each ratio, and one ratio explains the other; the ratio •f the Author of nature to difficulties in nature is like the ratio of the Author of nature to difficulties in Scripture; and again, the ratio of God to the present experienced dispensation is like the ratio of God to the futurs revealed dispensation. — (ir.) IWTRODUCTTON. , 75 wliich 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 rise to-morrow \ and be seen, where it is seen at all, in the figure of a circle, ana not in that of a square. Hence, namely from analogical reasoning, Origen* has with singular sagacity observed, that he who believes the Scripture to have proceeded from him who is the Author of Nature, may well expect to find the same sort of difiicidties 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 dispensation of Providence which Experience together with Reason informs us of, i. e., 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's being from God, drawn from anything which is analogical or similar to what is in the latter, which is ac- knowledged 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 anything else, is building a world upon hypothesis, like Des Cartes. Form- ing our notions upon reasoning from principles which are certain, but applied to cases to which we have no ground to apply them ' A man brought into being at maturity, and placed in a desert island, would abandon himself to despair when he first saw the sun set and the night come on; for he could have no expectation that ever the day would be renewed. But he is transported with joy when he again beholds the glorious orb appearing in the east, and the heavens and the earth illuminated as before. He again views the declining sun with apprehension, yet not without hope; the second night is less dismal than the first, but still very uncom- fortable, owing to the weakness of the probability produced by one favourable instance. As the instances grow more numerous, the probability becomes stronger and stronger; yet it may be questioned whether a man in these circumstances would ever arrive at so high a degree of moral certainty in thia matter as we experience, who know r.ot only that the sun has risen every day since we began to exist, but also that the same phenomenon has happened regularly for more than five thousand years, without failing in a single instance. -i^Beattie on Truth. {Ed.) ^ 'X.^ft fjbiv roi yi rhv a;'T«| - two successive moments ; which, whoever thinks it worth while, may see considered in the first Dissertation at the end of this Treatise. 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 sm^vive this change, and exist in a future state of life and perception. I. From our being bom into the present world in the helpless imperfect state of infancy, and having arrived from thence to matm-e age, we find it to be a general law of na- tm^e in om* o^\ti 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 cne 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 dilference of their capacities and states' of life at their birth (to go no higher) and m maturity: the change of womas into iiies, and the vast enlargement of thoii locomotive po vers by such change ; and birds and in 6. q s 82 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PT. 1 sects bui-sting the shell of their habitation, and by this means entering into a new world, furnished witli new ac- commodations for them, and finding a new sphere of action assigned tliem; these are instances of this general law of nature. Thus all the vai'ious and wondeiful transformations of animals are to be taken into consideration here. But the states of life in which we ourselves existed foraierly in the womb and in om' infancy, ai^e almost as different from om' present in mature age, as it is possible to conceive any two states or degi^ees of hfe 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 tlie anaiog;y' of natm-e ; according to a natural order or appoint- ment, of the veiy same kind with what we have ah-eady ex- perienced. II. We know we are endued witli capacities of action, of happiness and miseiw ; 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 tlirough and after death ; indeed a probability of it abundantly sufficient to act upon, unless there be some positive reason to thmk tliat death is the destruction of those living powei's: because there is in evei-y case a probability, that all things will continue as we expe- rience they are, in all respects, except tliose in which we have some reason to tliink they will be altered. This is that kind ' of presumption or probability from analogy, ex- pressed in tlie veiy word continuance, which seems our only natural reason for believing the course of the vv'orld will continue to-morrc/W, as it has done so far as our experience or knowledge of history can cany us back. Nay, it seems our only reason for believing, tliat any one substance now existing will continue to exist a moment longer; the self- existent substance only excepted. Thus, if men were as- sured tliat the unknown event, death, was not the destruction of om' faculties of perception and of action, there would be no apprehension that any other power or event, uncon- nected with this of death, would destroy these faculties just at the instant of each creature's death; and therefore no ' I say kind of presumption or probability; for I do not mean to affirm that there is the same degree of conviction, that our living powers will ecu- IViur after death, as there is that our rjubstances wilL CH. I.J OF A FUTURE LIFE. 83 doubt but Uiat they would remain after it ; which shows tlie high probabiUty that our hving powers will continue after deatli, unless there be some ground to think that death is tlieir destruction K For, if it would be in a manner certain that we should sm'v^ve deatli, provided it were certain tliat death would not be our destiTiction, it must be highly pro- bable we shall sun-ive it, if there be no ground to think death will be om- 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 suspi- cion, that in the great shock and alteration which we shall undergo by death, we, i. e., our living powers, might bft wholly destroyed ; yet even prior to those proofs, there is really no particular distinct gi'ound or reason for this appre- hension at all, so far as I can find. If there be, it must arise either from the reason of the thijig, or from the analogy of nature. But we cannot argue from the reason of the thing, that deatli 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 no wise appear to imply the destruc- tion of a living agent. And besides, as we are gi'eatly in tlie dark, upon what the exercise of our living powers de- pends, so we are wholly ignorant what the powers them- selves depend upon ; tlie powers themselves as distin- guished, not only from their actual exercise, but also from the present capacity of exercising them, and as opposed to their desti-uction ; 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 ; ' Destruction of living potcers is a manner of expression unavoidably arabisuous; and may signify either tlie destruction of a living being, so ar that the same living being shall be incapable of ever perceiving or acting again at all ; or the destruction of those means and instruments by which ii 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 l&tter 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 whoU existence, than to believe that a stone ever acqiures them. a 2 84 OF A FUTUEE LIFE. fpT. I. but shows also that they exist when there is no present capacity of exercismg them ; or that the capacit'es of exer cising them for the present, as well as the actual exercise of them, may be suspended, and yet the powers themselves remain undestroyea. Since then we know not at all upon what the existence of our living powers depends, this shows further, there can no probability be collected from tlie reason of the thing, that death will be their destruction ; because their existence may depend upon somewhat in no degi'ee affected by death ; upon somewhat quite out of the reach of this king of terrors. So tliat there is nothing more certain, than that the reason of the thing shows us no con- nection between death and the destiiiction of living agents. Nor can we find anything throughout the whole analogy of nature, 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 wherewith 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 sensible proof, which we had before tlieir 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 veiy period to which we have faculties capable of tracing them, is itself a probability of their re- taining them beyond it. And this is confirmed, and a sen- sible credibility is given to it, by observing tlie very great and astonishing changes which we have experienced ; so great, that our existence in another state of life, of percep- tion 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 om'selves ; according to a course of nature, tlie like to which we have akeady gone Uirough. However, as one cannot but be greatly sensible, how lifficult it is to silence imagination enough to make the w»j»ce of reason even distinctly heard in this case ; as we are ncx-'ustomed, from our youth up, to indulge tliat forward, delusive faculty ^ ; ever obtruding beyond its sphere ; oi •ere 18 no subject on which doubts and difficulties may not be started .^' »iigenrou3 and disputatious men; and, therefore, from the number of their OH. t.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 85 some assistance indeed to apprehension, but the author of all en'or : as we plainly lo^e oui'selves in gross and crude conceptions of things, taking for gi^anted that we are ac quainted with what indeed we are whilly ignorant of: it may be proper to consider the imaginaiy presumptions, that death will be our destruction arising from tliese kinds of early and lasting prejudices ; and to show how little they can really amount to, even though we cannot wholly divest ourselves of tliem. And, I. All presumption of death's being the destruction of living beings must go upon supposition that they are com- pounded and so discerptible K 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, i. e., part of this matter to move and part to be at rest, then its power of motion would be indivisible ; 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 argued *, and, for anytliing ap- pearing to the contraiy, justly, tliat since the perception or objections, and the length of the controversy to which they give occasion, we cannot in any case conclude that the original evidence is weak, or even that it is not obvious and striking. Were we to presume that every principle is dubious against which spurious objections may be contrived, we should be quickly led into universal scepticism. The two ways in which the ingenuity of speculative men has been most commonly employed, are dogmatical asser- tions of doubtful opinions, antZ subtle cavils ayainst certain trut/is. — Gerard's Dissertations, ii. 4. {Ed.) * There are three distinct questions relating to a future life here consi- dered. 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 fi)r the first. — Ed. * The above argument may be thus stated : " If we could be divided, each separate part of us would have the power of consciousness in itself; and there' would follow separate consciousnesses, which is contrary to our bypothegis. We, therefore, the living beings that we call ourselves, aw faidj visible." — {D.) * &M Dr. Clarke's Letter to Mr. D^dwll. and the defences of it. 86 OF A FUTURE LIFE. fPT. I, consciousness, which we have of our o^\^l existence, is indi- visible, so as that it is a contradiction to suppose one pai^t of it should be here and the other there \ tlie perceptive power, or the power of consciousness, is indivisible too, and consequently the subject in which it resides, i. e., the conscious Being. Now upon supposition that the living agent which each man calls himself, is thus a single being, there is at least no more difficulty in conceiving than in con- ceiving it to be a compound, and of which there is tlie 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, may be appropriated to us in the manner which our present bodies are, as how we can re- ceive 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 tliat we may hereafter animate these same or new bodies variously modified and organized, as to conceive how we can animate such bodies as om* present. And, lastly, the dissolution of all tliese several organized bodies, supposing ourselves to have successively animated them, would have no more conceivable tendency to destroy the living beings ourselves, or deprive us of living faculties — the faculties of perception and of action — than the dissolution of any foreign matter, which we are capable of receiving impressions from, and malving use of, for tlie common oc- casions of life -. II. The simplicity and absolute oneness of a living agent ' That it is highly unreasonable and absurd to suppose the soul made up ©f inminieiahle consciousnesses, as matter is necessarily made up of innii- meral)le parts; and, on the contrary, that it is highly reasonable to believe the seat of thovyhi to be a simple substance, such as cannot naturally be divided and crumbled into pieces, as all matter is naturally subject to be,- — must of necessity be confessed. Consequently, the soul will not be liable to be dissolved at the dissolution of the body, and therefore it will naturally be immnrtHl. All this seems to follow, at least, with the highest degree of probabUity, from the single consideration of the soul being endued with Bense, thought, or consciousness. — U/arices Kcidences. {Ed.) To avoid the fallacy which all modes of expression would occasion which involve particular theories in them, Butler is often obli^;ed to employ a circuitous, and a(iparenily awkward style, in stating his arguments. , . , Thus in his chapter, " On a Future Lite," he does not speak of the soul as CH. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 87 cannot indeed, from the nature of the thing, be properly proied by experimental obsen^ations. But as these fall in with tlie supposition of its unity, so they plainly lead us to conclude certainly, that our gi'oss organized bodies, witli which we perceive tlie 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 desti-uction to be oui's, even without determining whether our living substances be material or immaterial. For we see by experience, that men may lose their limbs, their organs '^f sense, and even the greatest part of these bodies, and yet remain the same living agents. And persons can trace up the existence of them- selves to a time, when tlie bulk of their bodies was ex- tremely small, in comparison of what it is in mature age ; and we cannot but think that they might then have lost a considerable part of that small body, and yet have remained the same living agents ; as tliey 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 tliat never-ceasing attrition, which there is in eveiy part of them. Now things of 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 tlieir owners ; whilst we are assured that each living agent remains one and the same permanent being ^ And this general obsei^ation leads us on to the following ones. First. That we have no way of detennining 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 elementaiy particles of matter, which an immaterial or naturally immortal principle, since his object is to employ Buch arguments as would be conclusive, whatever theory of the soul be main- tained ; appealing simply to such fiicts as are signs of its posthumous existence, whatever may be its nature. Hence his use of such expressions as "faculties of perception and action," "living powers," "living agents," "the living being each man calls himself," &c., which, to be justly estimated, must be regarded as exclusions of any particular theory concerning the soul; •0 as to leave the question of a future life, as there entered into, purely a question of fact, — Preface to JIamj)den,'s Essay on the Philosophical Evidences of Christianity. {Ed.) * See Disflertatiun L ff8 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PT. I tJiere is no ground to think any natural power can dissolve, I here is no son of reason to think death to be the dissolu- tion of it, of the hving being, even though it should not bo absolutely indiscerptible. Secondhj. From our being so nearly related to and in- terested in certain systems of matter, suppose our flesh and bones, and aftenvards ceasing to be at all related to them, the living agents ourselves remaining all this while unde- stroyed notwithstanding such alienation, and consequently these systems of matter not being om'selves; it follows further, that we have no gi'ound to conclude any other, sup- pose internal systems of matter, to be the living agents our- selves ; 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 befalls those systems of matter at death to be tlie de- struction 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 gi'eat a part, or the whole, by another common established law of nature death, why may we not also re- main the same ? That the alienation has been gi^adual in one case, and in the otlier will be more at once, does not prove anything to the contrary. We have passed unde- stroyed through those many and great revolutions of matter, so peculiarly appropriated to us om-selves ; why should we imagine death will be so fatal to us ? Nor can it be ob- jected, 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 tliis be not admitted, we have no proof that any of these solid parts are dissolved or alienated by death. Though, by tlie way, we are very nearly rehited to that extraneous or adventitious matter, whilst it continues united to, and distending the several parts of oiu- 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 appear to amount to but this, that the living agent, and those pai'ts of the body mutually affect each otlier? And the same thing, the sanio thing in kind though not in de^-ee may be said c^ all CH. I J OF A FUTURE LIFE. g9 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 livmg agent, from the interest he once had in such matter. Thirdly. If we consider our body somewhat more dis- tinctly, as made up of organs and instruments of percep- tion and of motion, it will bring us to the same conclusion. Thus the common optical experiments show, and even the obsei-vation 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, I 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 considering. All these are instances of foreign matter, or such as is no part of our body being instrumental in preparing objects for, and con- veying them to, the perceiving power, in a manner similar 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 tlie Au- thor 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. 4nd 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 other senses. It is not intended by anything 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 per- ceiving ; but that so far as it can be traced by experimental observations, so far it appears that our organs of sense pre- pare and convey on objects, in order to their being per- ceived in like manner as foreign matter does, without affording any shadow of appearance that they themselves perceive. Ajid that we have no reason to think our organs of sense percipients is confirmed by instances of persons losing some of tliem, the living beings themselves, their former occupiers, remaining unimpaired It is confirmed 90 OF A FUTURE LIFE, [pT. I also by the experience of dreams ; by which ^^ e find we arc at present possessed of a latent, and what would othenvise be an unimagined unkno\\Ti power of perceiving sensible objects, in as strong and lively a manner without om- external organs of sense as with tliem. 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 capable 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 aiTn ; and this last it does in the same manner as it reaches and moves, with its natm-al arm, thmgs 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 instniments of motion to each other, and some parts of the same limb to be instiTiments of motion to other parts of it. Thus a man determines, that he will look at such an ob- ject 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 detennine 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 microscope and the staff are. Upon the whole then, our organs of sense and our limbs are cer- tainly instruments, which the living persons ourselves make use of to perceive and move with : there is not any proba- bility, that they are any more ; nor, consequently, that we have any other kind of relation to them, than what we have to any other foreign matter formed into instruments of per- ception 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 ])robability, that tlie alienation or dissolution of these instruments is the de- struction of the perceiving and moving agent'. ' Butler's caution, in treating this subject, is a striking contrast to the boldness of those philosophers who have concluded, with all the confidence of demonstration, that what is not compounded nor aaade up of parts cannot on I.J OF A FUTURE IJFE 01 And thus our finding, that the dissolution of matter in which Uving beings were most nearly interested, is not their dissolution ; and that the destruction of several of tlie organs and instruments 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 insti-uments, will be the dissolution or destiTiction 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 anything which we find dissolved by death ^ De dissolved; (Butler says, " which there is no ground to think any naturcu power can dissolve;") and, therefore, that the human soul is essentially and necessarily immortal. " Et cum simplex natura animi esset, neque haberet in se quidquam adraetum dispar sui atque dissimile, non posse eum dividi ; quod si non possit, non posse interire." " But this argument," says Dugald Stewart, ** I am afraid, supposing it were logical, proves too much; for it concludes as strongly against the possibility of the soul's being created as dissolved ; and, accordingly, we find that almost all the ancient philosophers who believed in a future state maintained also the doctrine of the soul's pre-existence. Nay, some of them seem to have considered the latter point as still better established than the former. In the Phsedon of Plato, in which Socrates is introduced as slating to his friends, immediately before his execution, the proofs of a future state, Cebes, who is one of the speakers in the dialogue, admits that he has been successful in establishing the doctrine of the soul's pre-existence, but insists on further proofs of the possibility of its surviving the body. Although our knowledge of the nature of man may not be sufficient to aflford us any positive argument on the subject, yet if it can be shown that the dissolution of the body does not necessarily infer the extinction of the soul; and still more, if it can be shown that the presumption is in favour of the contrary supposition ; the moral proof of a future retribution will meet with a more easy reception, when the doctrine is freed from the metaphysical difficulties which it has been apprehended to involve. It is in this moderate form that the argument from the light of nature is stated by Butler; anG the considerations he? mentions prove fully, not only that no presumption against a future state can be collected from the dissolution of the body, but that the contrary supposition is more agreeable to the analogy of nature." Surely this is contrary to what Dugald Stewart has stated, " that the more common fact is, that the body and mind seem to decay together;" for this common fact must be considered as a presumption against a future state, which is collected from the dissolution of the body. It is a valid presumption, although it may be overbalanced by greater probabilities on the other particular theory eoncerning the soul; so as to leave the question of a future life, as there entered into, purely a question of iAci.—Prrface to Hampden's Essay on the Philosophical Evidence of Christianity. [Ed.) ' The sum of the argument is this. It is found by experience that the dissolution of systems of matter with which we are connected is not tha iestruction of ourselves^ as living beings. And, there^'ore, it admits of 92 OF A FUITJEE LIFE. [PT. t But it is said these observations are equally applicable to binites ; and it is thought an insuperable difficulty, that they should be immortal, and by consequence capable of ever lasting happiness. Now this manner of expression is both invidious and weak ; but tlie thing intended by it is really no difficulty at all, either in the way of natural or moral consideration. For 1st, Suppose the invidious thing, de- signed in such a manner of expression, were really implied, as it is not in the least, ui tlie natural immortality of brutes : namely, that they must arrive at great attainments, and be- come rational and moral agents ; even this would be no dif- ficulty : since we know not what latent powers and capacities tliey may be endued with. There was once, prior to expe- rience, as gi'eat presumption against human creatm^es as there is against the brute creatures, arriving at that degree of imderstanding, 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 alto- gether without tlie use of them, for a considerable length of Sieir duration, 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 degi-ee at all. But then, 2ndly, the natural immortality of bnites does not in tlie least imply, that they are endued vvith any latent capacities of a rational or moral nature. And the economy of the universe might require, that there should be living creatures without any capacities of this kind. And all difficulties as to the manner how tliey are to be disposed of are so apparently and wholly founded in our ignorance, that it is wonderful they should be insisted upon by any, but such as are weak enough to tliink tliey are acquainted with the whole system of tilings. There is then absolutely no- thing at all in this objection, which is so rhetorically urged, against tlie greatest part of the natural proofs or presump- tions of die immortality of human minds ; I say the greatest part ; for it is less applicable to the following observation, which is more peculiar to mankind : III. That as it is evident oui present powers and capacities demonstrative proof that it is in no degree probable that any other system oi matter, standing to us in a like relation, Cf-uld by its dissolution affect ui fiatally than these. — (7).i CH. I.] OF A FUTURE LIFE. 93 of reason, memory, and affection, do not depend upon our gross body in the manner in which perception by our oryans of sense does ; so they do not appear to depend upon it at all in any such manner, as to give gi'ound 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 sensa- tion ; or to give ground to conclude, even that it will be so much as a suspension of the former. Human creatm-es exist at present in two states of life and perception, greatly different from each other ; each of which has its OAvn peculiar laws and its own peculiar enjoyments and sufferings. Wlien any of our senses are affected or appetites gi^atified with the objects of them, we may be said to exist or live in a state of sensation. Wlien none of our senses are affected or appetites gi-atified, 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 anything which is dissolved by death is any way necessaiy 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 neces- sary 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 capable of reflecting '11 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 tlie relation of this gi^oss body to the reflecting being is, in any degree, necessary to thinking; to our intel- lectual enjovTiients or sufferings; nor, consequently, that the dissolution or alienation of the foraier by death, will be the destruction of tliose present powers, which render us capable of this state of reflection. Further, there are in- stances of mortal diseases, which do not at all affect our present intellectual powers ; and this affords a presumption, that those diseases will not destroy these present powers. Indeed, from the observations made above', it appears, that there 'is no presumption, from tlieu' mutually affecting eaeb • Pp. 85—90. 04 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PT. I. other, that the dissolution of the body is the desti-uction of the Uving agent. And by the same reasoning, it must ap- pear too, that there is no presumption, from theh^ mutually affectino: 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 presumption of the contraiy. 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 tilings, indeed, greatly affect all our living powers, and at length suspend the exercise of them ; as for instance drowsiness, increasing till it ends 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 reflecting powers which we have at present. For m those diseases, persons the moment before death appear to be in the highest vigour of life. They discover appre- hension, memory, reason, all entire ; with the utmost force of affection ; sense of a character, of shame and honom' ; and the highest mental enjoyments and sufferings, even to the last gasp : and tliese surely prove even greater vigour of life than bodily strength does ^ Now what pretence is there for thinking, that a progressive disease when ari'ived to such a degi-ee, I mean that degree which is mortal, will destroy those powers, which were not impaired, which were not affected by it, during its whole progi-ess quite up to that de- gree ? And if deatii by diseases of this kind is not the destmction of om- present reflecting powers, it will scarce be thought that deatli by any other means is. It is obvious that this general obsen'ation may be carried on fmlher ; and there appears so little connection between our bodily powers of sensation, and our present powers of reflection, tliat there is no reason to conclude that death, which destroys the former, does so much as suspend the exercise of tlie latter, or interrupt our contlnuinr^ to exist in tlie like state of reflection which we do now. For suspen- sion of reason, memory, and the affections which they excite, ' Just aa there is no presumption, from the body and the living being mutually jilfecting one anotherj that the destruction of the one is the dc^tno- tion of the oth yt.—(W,) OH. I.] OF A FUTURE UFE 96 is no part of tlie idea of death, nor is implied in our notion of it. And our daily experiencing these powers to be cxer cised, without any assistance, that we know of, from those bodies which will be dissolved by death; and our finding often that tlie exercise of them is so lively to the last ; these things afford a sensible apprehension, that death may not, per- haps, be so much as a discontinuance of the exercise of these powers, nor of the enjoyments and sufferings which it im- plies ^ So that our posthumous life, whatever there may be in it additional to our present, yet may not be entirely beginning 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 continuation of both, with such and such gTeat alterations. Nay, for ought 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 birtli does ~ ; a state in which our capacities, and sphere of perception and of action, may be much gi'eater tlian at present. For as our relation to oiu* external organs of sense renders us capable of existing in om* present state of sensation, so it may be the only natural hindrance to our existing, immediately, and of course, in a higher state of reflection. The truth is, reason does not at all show us in what state death natm^ally leaves us. But were we sure that it would suspend all our perceptive and active powers ; yet the suspension of a power and the destruction of it, are effects so totally different in kind, as we experience from ' There are three distinct questions, relating to a future life, here con- sidered : Whether death be the destruction of living agents ; if not, Whether it be the destruction of their 2:)resent 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 reflect- ing 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. — Ed. ^ This, according to Strabo, was the opinion of the Brachmans, wft,'iZ,i» ftu yoc^ %ri Tcv fAv iv^u^i (iiov, u; av aK/Jttiv Kvofji-ivuv iivai' ccv at fiatxrev, yiMtrn lli Tov avrtu; (slov, kou rov il/locifiova to7; (piXoffoipncxs'i. Lib. XV. p. 1039, Ed. Amst. 1707. To which opinion perhaps Antoninus may allude in thesa words, ui >vv Ti^ifAivsi;, Ton 'if^fi^ve* Ik T^i yafrpcs t>jj yvvxtxof t| fUTMf %x%ix;^irSat, t«» u^av U r re •^uj^m^tiv fou ruu iKur^ov revTov tK-rttrfirak lab. ix. c. 3. 96 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [PT. I. sleep and a swoon, that we cannot in any wise argue from one to the other ; or condude even to tlie lowest degi^ee of pix)bability, that the same kind of force which is sufficient to suspend our faculties, though it be mcreased ever so much, will be sufficient to destroy them. These obser\'ations together may be sufficient to show how little presumption tliere is, that death is the desti-uc- tion of human creatures. However, there is the shadow of an analog}^', which may lead us to imagine it is the sup posed likeness which is obsei-ved between the decay of vege- tables and of 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 tliat which is the principal and chief thing in the other, the power of perception and of action, and which is the only thing we are inquhing about the continu- ance of. So that tlie destruction of a vegetable is an event not similar or analogous to the destruction of a living agent-. But if, as was above intimated, leaving off the delusive custom of substituting imagination in the room of experi- ence, we would confine ourselves to what we do know and understand; if we would argue only from that^ and from ' St. Paul, indeed, as our blessed Lord had already done (St. John xii. 24), in a popular and unsystematic wa}, does answer objections against the resur- rection, by analogy from the worlds of nature. (1 Cor. xv. 36.) " The seed dies; it is only the germ or bud that springs up: the body of the seed first feeds this bud, and then turns to corruption." It is particularly to be noted that St. Paul is not speaking of the identity of the raised bodies. — SeeWhitby ill loco. {Ed.) ^ It is insisted on that there is nothing in the doctrine of a future state to take it out of the class of natural truths, or of those truths which make a part of natural religion; since by " natural " we are not to understand merely " what we see at present," but as implying that which is stated, fixed, and settled. Therefore that there should be another life, and that a social one, that its blessings should be exactly proportioned to our virtues, and that all its blessings should flow more directly from God Himself than is the case cere,— all of this maybe both true and nQ,tural. — (D.) ' It is thus that Herodotus, for example, is contiK-aally arguing. (Sefl Book ii., ch. 33, tiy iyu rt/^/3«^K«;M«i, «r V %4^.); H ^ 100 OF THE (JOVEEXMElsT OF GOD. [PT. I. on the contrary, we may, by rashness, ungovemed passion, wilfuhiess, or even by negligence, make ourselves as miser- able as ever we please. And many do please to make them selves extremely miserable, i. e., to do what tliey know before- hand 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 eveiy one observes to be the general course of tilings, though it is to be allowed, we cannot find by experience that all oui' sufferings are owing to om- own follies. Why the Author of Nature does not give his creatures promiscuously such and such perceptions without regard to their behaviour, why he does not make them happy without the instrumentality of their own actions, and prevent their bringing any sufferings uj)on themselves, is another matter. Perhaps there may be some impossibilities in the nature of things which we are unacquainted with'. Or less hap- piness, it may be, would upon the whole be produced by such a method of conduct than is by the present-. 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 produce 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 tliey stand in to himself; that relation to himself, which, during their existence, is even necessaiy, and which is the most important one of all : perhaps, I say, an mfinitely perfect ]\Iind may be pleased with this moral piety of mioral agents in and for itself, as well as upon ac- count of its being essentially conducive to the happiness of his creation. Or the whole end, for which God made, and ' Part I. ch;ip. vii. ' As in the physical world, much that appears rough and rugged, when viewed clo.'^,ely, becomes smooth and level at a more distant glance, or viewed in a more comprehensive liglit, just so partial evil may be, and probably is, in .snini' way or other, subservient to universal good. It will be observed that Bntler is very fond of this argument, which is nearly identical with that which he so often alleges as the ground of his conclusions, viz., the ignorance nf man as to the things around liim, when viewed as a whole. Here " W6 bee in uart." (1 Cor. xiii. 9.) — £d. CH. II.J BY EEWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. l()l thus governs die world, may be utterly beyond the reach oi our faculties ; tliere may be somewhat m it as impossible for us to have any conception of as for a blind man to have a conception of colours. But however this be, it is certain matter of universal experience that tlie general method of Divine administration is forewarning us, or giving us capa- cities 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 nature." True. This is the very thing which I am ob- serving. It is to be ascribed to the general course of na- ture ; i.e., not surely to the w^ords or ideas course of nature, but to him who appointed it and put things into it, or to a course of operation 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 govern- ment is uniform ; they must not deny that he does 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 eveiy man in eveiything he does, naturally acts upon the fore- thought and apprehension of avoiding evil or obtaining good; and if the natural course of things be the appointment of God, and our natural faculties of knowledge and experience are given us by him, then the good and bad consequences which follow om* actions are his appointment, and our fore- sight of tliose consequences is a warning given us by him how we are to act^ • Pages 97, 98. ^ God being admitted as the Author of nature, we can prove demonstra- tively that these results are to be ascribed to his agency. For the particular is contained in the universal; and if the u-hole course of nature be from God, then this one particular course of things, namely, the consequences of our actions, must be from God also. — (D.) ^ If the ''general course of nature" be God's appointment, and all our natural faculties of knowledge his gift, then are these consequences hia appointment, and our foresight of them his gift; for the particular, in eithef case, cornea under the universal; and this foresight, nr.areover, was interded for a teaming as to action, and for an inducement thereto. — ( W.) 102 OF THE GOYEKNMENT OF GOD. [PT. I. •' Is the pleasure, then, naturally accompanpng every par ticular gratification of i)assion, intended to put us upon gi'a- tifvin"- 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 sio'ht of each particular object to which they do or can ex- tend, objects which are destructive of them, or >vbich for any other reason it may become us to turn our eyes from. Yet there is no doubt but that our eyes were intended foi 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 ijuch manners. Now from this general obsen'ation, obvious to eyery one, that God has given us to understand he has appointed satis- faction and delight to be the consequence of our acting in one manner, and pain and uneasiness of our acting in an other, and of our not acting at all ; and that we find the con- sequences, which we were beforehand informed of, unifomily to follow, we may leai-n that we are at present actually under his government in the stiictest 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 -sve are under the government of civil magistrates. Because the annexing pleasure to some ac- tions and pain to others, in our power to do or forbear, and giving notice of this appointment beforehand to those whc^m it concerns, is the proper formal notion of government. AMiether the pleasure or pain which thus follows upon our behaviom* be owing to the Autlior of Natm^e's acting upon us every moment which we feel it, or to his having at once contrived and executed his own pai't 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, with- ' From the experienced fact that happiness and misery are appointed by God to depend upon our own conduct in a certain uniform and foreseen order of consequences, we proceed to arfjue that we are at present actually undei God's government, in that most strict and yrcoer sense which iiupUes rt-war.ij cad puniBhiaeuts for ox x eoiidiei. — ( W.j ' efS[. n.J BY REWARDS AND PtTNlSHMENTS. 103 out a ti'ial, and the fomialities of an execution ; if tliey were able to make their lai/s execute themselves, or ever}' 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 foresees some persons will divert tliemselves 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 tliem. And if they are, if God annexes delight to some actions and uneasiness to otliers, with an apparent design to induce us to act so and so, then he not only dispenses happiness and misery, but also re- wards and punishes actions. If, for example, the pain which we feel, upon doing what tends to the destiTiction of our bodies, suppose upon too near approaches to fire, or upon wounding om^selves, be appointed by the Author of Nature to prevent our doing what thus tends to our destruction ; 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 gi^eater or less. Thus we find, that the tnie notion or conception of the Autlior 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, seiTants, subjects, are rewarded and punished by those wha govern them^ And thus the whole analogy of Natm^e, the whole present com-se of things, most fully shows that there is nothing in- ' The sum of the argument is to this effect : — In this natural course of things we find the true conception of its Author, prior to any consideration of Ms moral attributes, to be the less a governor ; that^ as a fact, his govern- mettu over us is being now carried on by means of rewards and punishments; and that, therefore, it is in no sort incredible that he will show himself in Uie same character and carry on a similar govemment in a future state « things.— (i>.) 10-i OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. [PT. I, credible in the general doctrine of religion, that God will reward and punisii men for tlieir actions hereafter ; nothing incredible, I mean, arising out of tlie notion of rewarding and punishing. For the whole course of nature is a present instance of his exercising that government over us, which implies in it rew^arding and punishing K But, 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 ot punishments at present, which are analogous to what re- ligion teaches us concerning 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 wiio will attend to tliem. It has been now obseiTed, that such and such miseries naturally follow such and such actions of imprudence and wilfulness, as well as actions more commonly and more dis- tinctly considered as vicious ; and tliat these consequences, when they may be foreseen, are properly natm-al punish- ments annexed to such actions. For the general thing here insisted upon is, not that we see a great deal of misei^ in the world, but a gi^eat deal which men bring upon themselves by their own beha\ iour, which they might have foreseen and avoided. Now the circumstances of these natm^al punish- ments, particularly deserving our attention, are such as tliese : — tliat 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 are tlie consequence of intem- perance, tliough accompanied with the highest mirth and jollity ; that these punishments are often much gi'eater than tlie advantages or pleasures obtained by the actions, of which tliey 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 im- mediately upon such actions being done, or veiy soon after; we find, on tlie contrary, in our world, tliat they ai'e often ' The eternity of Divine piinishments is one of those doctrines which are most extensively assailed in the present day. The eternity of punishments and of rewards, however, must stand or fall together; and when the foimei coraes to be denied, it will not be long before the latter is disputed alao. — Ed, CH. II.] BY PUNISHMENTS. 1 05 delayed a gi-eat while, sometimes even till long after the ac tions occasioning them are forgot ; so that tlie constitution of nature is such, tliat delay of punishment is no sort nor degi'ee of presumption of final impmiity ; that after such delay tliese natural punishments or miseries often come, not by degi'ees, but suddenly, with violence, and at once : however, the chief misery often does ; that as certainty oi 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 thus — that they see in general, or may see, the credibility, that intemperance, suppose, will bring after it diseases, ci\il 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 naturally thought- less, and not clearly foreseeing all the consequences of being untractable and profligate, this does not hinder, but that these consequences follow, and are grievously felt through- out tlie whole course of mature life. Habits contracted even in that age are often utter ruin ; and men's success 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 neg- lect 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 re- call 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 acquirements, which tliey neglected the natural sea- son of attaining. If the husbandman lets his seedtime pass without sowing, the whole year is lost to him beyond re- covery In like manner, though after men have been guilty of folly and extravagance up to a certain degree^ it is often ia ' See Part II. chap vi. 106 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [PT. I. their po\v3r, for instance, to retrieve their affairs, to recovef their health and character, at least in good measm^e; yet real reformation is in many cases of no avail at all towards preventing the miseries, poverty, sicloiess, infamy, naturally annexed to folly and extravagance exceeding that degree. There is a certain bomid to impi-udence and misbehaviour, which, being transgTessed, there remains no place for re- pentance in the natural course of things. It is further very mucli 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 altogether as dreadful as any active misbehaviour, from the most extra- vagant passion. And, lastly, civil government being natural, the punishments of it are so too ; and some of these pmiish- ments are capital, as the effects of a dissolute course of plea- sure are often mortal. So tliat many natural punishments are final '' to him who incurs them, if considered only in his temporal capacity; and seem inflicted by natural appoint- ment, 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 /iiet with only novr and then ; but they are tilings of every day's experience : they proceed from general laws, very gene ' Part II. chap. vi. ^ The general consideration of a future state of panishment, 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 punishment of the wicked, both as to the duration and degree of it, in a like manner of expression and of 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. Reason 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 justice; that it shall be no longer delayed; but iJu mystery of God, the great mystery of his suffering vice and confusion to pre- \A\\, shall then he finished ; and he will take to him his great po^cer, and tnll rcujn, by rendering to every one according to his works. CH. n ] BY PUNISHMENTS. 107 ral ones, Dy -which God governs tlie world in the natural course of his providence. And tliey are so analogous to what Eeligion teaches us concemmg the future punishment of the wicked, so much of a piece with it, that both would naturally be expressed in the very same words, and 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, mil ye love folly, and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge ^ Turn ye at my reproof. Behold, I will pour out my spirit upon you, I will make known my words unto you. But upon being neglected. Became 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 : I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your fear Cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon 7ne, 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 follow- ing 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 icay, 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 Eeligion teaches us is to be expected in another, that it may be questioned which of the two was principally intended. Indeed, when one has been recollecting the proper proofs of a future state of rewai'ds and punishments, nothing methinks can give one so sensible an apprehension of the latter, or representation 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 vei^ nature; tcom the examples of others ; from the lesser inconveniences > Ch&p i. 108 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD BY PUNISHMENTS. [PT. L which they bring upon themselvos ; from the instructions ol wise and virtuous men : after these have been long despised, scorned, ridiculed ; after the chief bad consequences, tern poral consequences, of tlieir follies have been delayed for a great while ; at length they break in iiTesistibly like an armed force ; repentance is too late to relieve, and can serve only to aggravate their distress, the case has become despe- rate, and poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, m- famy and death, the effects of their own doings, overwhelm them beyond possibility of remedy or escape. This is an account of what is in fact the general constitution ot nature K It is not in any sort meant that, according to what ap- pears at present of tlie natm^al com-se of things, men are always uniformly punished in proportion to their misbe- haviour ; but that there are very many instances of misbe- haviour punished in the several ways now mentioned, and veiy dreadful instances too, sufficient to show what the laws of tlie universe may admit ; and, if thoroughly considered, sufficient fully to answer all objections against the credi- bility of a future state of punishments, from any imagina- tions, that the frailty of our nature and exteiTial . tempta- tions 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 tliat he must be incapable of offence and provocation *. Keflections of this kind are not without their terrors to serious persons, tlie most free from enthusiasm, and of the gi-eatest strength of mind ; but it is fit tilings be stated and considered as they really are. And there is, in the present age, a certain fearlessness witli regard to what may be here- after under the government of God, which nothing but an universally acknowledged demonstration on the side of ' Hence may he deduced experimental answers to many popular objeo- lions and excuses; as, that God is too merciful to inflict eternal punishment j that we were dncere in our intentions; tliat we did not know it was a sin which we were committing, &c. Our misery, like our neglect, is self- induced, — {H.) •^ That is, as is more fully explained in chap, vi., the supposition that men are compelled by necessity to sin : a doctrine which, by destroying the doctrine ot tree will, overthrows all notions of moral responsibility, saps the founda- tions of morality and virtue, and destroys God's attribute of justice. ' St-c Uha{j. iv. and vi. CH. m.] OF THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 109 atheism can justify, and which makes it quite necessary that men be reminded, and if possible, made to feel, that tliere is no sort of ground for being thus presumptuous, even upon tlie most sceptical principles. For, may it not be said of any person upon his being bom into the world, he may behave so as to be of no senice 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 iiifamy and diseases worse tlian 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 pre- tence of reason, for peoi:)le to think themselves secure, and talk as if they had certain proof that, let them act as licen- tiously as they will, tliere can be nothing analogous to tliis, with regard to a future and more general interest, luider the providence and government of the same God ? CHAPTER III'. 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 INIind ; so the particular final causes of plea- sure and pain distributed amongst his creatures prove that they are mider his government ; what may be called his natu- ral government of creatures endued with sense and reason. This, however, implies somewhat more than seems usually attended to, when we speak of God's natural goveiTiment of the world. It implies government of the veiy same kind witli that which a master exercises over his sen-ants, or a civil magistrate over his subjects. These latter instances of final causes as really prove an intelligent Governor of the world, m the sense now mentioned, and before- distinctly ' The subject is thus introduced. From the particular final causes of happiness and misery, it has been argued in the last chapter that we are actually under God's government, under what may be called his natural government But the moral character of this government has not been, a? yet, directly determined. As then, in the last chapter, the fact of God's iiahiral government was pr;ved, so in this is tiie fact of his moral govern- n\»»nt established. — (W.) * vjhaj*. ii. 110 OF THE MORAIi [PT. t treated of, as any other instances of fin si causes prove an intelligent Maker of it. But this alone does not appear, at first sight, to deter- mine anything certainly, concerning the moral character oi' the Author of Nature, considered in this relation of governor; does not ascertain his government to be moral, or prove that he is the righteous judge of the world. Moral government consists not barely in rewarding and punishing men for their actions, which the most tyi^annical person may do, but in re- warding the righteous, and punishing the wicked — in ren- dering 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 degi^ee, is a disposition to produce the greatest possible happiness, without regard to persons' behaviom\ otlierwise 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 wis- dom. Now, surely this ought not to be asserted, miless it can be proved, for we should speak with cautious reverence upon such a subject. And whether it can be proved or no, is not the thing here to be inquired into ; but whether in the constitution and conduct of the world, a righteous government be not discernibly planned out, which neces- sarily implies a righteous governor. There may possibly be in the creation beings, to whom tlie Author of Nature mani- fests himself under this most amiable of all characters, this of infinite absolute benevolence, for it is the most amiably supposing it not, as perhaps it is not, incompatible with justice ; but he manifests himself to us under the character ' This objection may be examined by tracing it into its consequences. Simple absnjute benevolence implies a disregard of moral character; but truth and justice imply a regard of moral character; it would follow, then, that these two quiilities could not exist in the same subject. But may there not be a point above our sii^ht in which both simple benevolence and simple justice meet together? There may be beings towards whom God shows simple benevolence; nay, in the sense explained a little below, he ma^ exercJM limplc and absolute benevolence even towards us. — HcL CH. m.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. Ill of a righteous governor. He may, consistently with this be simply and absolutely benevolent in the sense now ex plained ; but he is (for he has given us a proof in the consti tution and conduct of the world that he is) a governor ovei 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 natm^al pre- sages of conscience, clear and distinct intimations that his government is righteous or moral ; clear to such as think the nature of it desen'ing their attention ; and yet not to eveiy careless person who casts a transient reflection upon tlio subject '. But it is particularly to be obsei-ved, that the di\dne go- vernment, which we experience ourselves under in the present state, taken alone, is allowed not to be the perfec- tion of moral government". And yet this by no means hinders, but that there may be somewhat, be it more or less, tmly moral in it. A righteous government may plainly appear to be carried on to some degi^ee ; enough to give us the apprehension that it shall be completed, or earned on to that degree of perfection which religion teaches us it shall : but which cannot appear, till much more of the divine ad- ministration be seen, than can in the present life. And the design of this chapter is to inquire how far this is the case : how f\ir, over and above the moral nature ' which God has given us, and our natural notion of him as righteous go- vernor of those his creatures, to whom he has given this natm^e "• ; I say how far besides this, the principles and be- ' The objections against religion, from the evidence of it not being uni- versal, nor so strong as might possibly have been, may be urged against natural relig-ion, as well as against revealed. And therefore the considera- tion of them belongs to the first part of this Treatise, as well as the second. But as these objections are chiefly urged against revealed religion, I choosfl 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 iS^ature, to avoid repetition, the reader is re- ferred to that chapter. ^ This expression is, perhaps, liable to be misunderstood. It does not, of course, mean to assert that there is any error or defect in God's moral govern- ment. but only that, owing to the partial view which alone we can obtain on mnh of a system so great and comprehensire, it seems lo U3, as it were; imperfect and unfinished. — Ed. ^ Di^jeertation II. * Chap, vi. 112 OF THE MORAL L^^. 1 ginnings of a mora] government over the world may bo dis- cerned, notwithstanding and amidst all the confusion and disorder of it. Now one might mention here '. what has heen often urged with gi'eat 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 moral government estahlished in nature ; an instance of it collected from experience and present matter of fact. But it must he 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 oveq^lus of happiness on the side of virtue. And it is not impossible, that, amidst the infinite disorders of the world, there may be exceptions to the happiness of virtue ; even with regard to those per- sons 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 reformed. For suppose an instance of the latter case ; a person with his passions inflamed, his natural faculty of self-goverimient impaired by habits of indulgence, and with all his vices about him, like so many harpies, craving for their accustomed gratification : Avho can say how long it .night be before such a person would find more satisfaction m 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 gi-eat degree, get over their sense of shame, so as that by professing them- selves to be without principle, and avowing even direct vil- lany, they can sup[)ort themselves against the infamy of it. But as the ill actions of any one will probably be more talked of, and oftener thrown in his way, upon his reforma- tion ; so the infamy of them will be much more felt, after the natural sense of virtue and of honour is recovered. Uneasinesses of this kind ought indeed to be put to the account of fonner vices ; yet it will be said they are in part The popular argument to the effect that more satisfaction, on the whole, results from virtue than from vice, is here examined; and Butler rejects it as not accurate enough for this treatise. It is difficult to strike an accurate balance in such matters. — (Z).) •^ See Lord Shaftesbury's Inipiry concerning Virtue, Part 11. OH III.l GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 11'.^ the consequences of reformation. Still I am fai from allow- ing it doubtful, whether virtue, upon the whole, be happier than vice in the present world. But if it were, yet the be- ginnings of a righteous administration may, beyond all question, be found in natui'e, if we will attentively inquire ^ter them. And, I. In whatever manner the notion of God's moral govern- ment 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 certain matter of experience, that he does mani- fest himself to us under the character of a governor in the sense explained ^ ; it must desei-ve to be considered, whether there be not reason to apprehend, that he may be a righte- ous or moral governor. Since it appears to be fact, that God does govern mankind by the method of rewards and punishments, according to some settled rules of distribu- tion ; it is sm-ely 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 reason ably or unreasonably, virtuously or viciously? since render- ing men happy or miserable by this rule certainly falls in, much more falls in, with our natural apprehensions and sense of things, 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 expec- tation, that a method of government already begun shall be carried on, the method of rewarding and punishing actions', and shall be carried on by a particular rule, which unavoid- ably 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 tranquilhty, satisfaction, and external advantages, being the natural con- sequences of prudent management of ourselves, and our affairs; and rashness, profligate negligence, and wilful folly, bringing after them many inconveniences and suffer ings; these afford instances of a right constitution (f wi- Chap. ii. 114 OF THE MORAL [PT. L ture': as tli3 coiToction 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 constitu- tion 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 -^ III. From the natm-al course of things, vicious actions are, to a great degree, actually pmiished as mischievous to society ; and besides punishment actually inflicted upon tliis account, there is also the fear and apprehension of it in those persons, whose crimes have rendered them obnoxious to it in case of a discovery ; this state of fear being itself often a very considerable punishment. The natural fear and apprehension of it, too, which restrains from such crimes, is a declaration of nature against them. It is neces- sary to the veiy being of society, that vices, destructive of it, should be punished as being so; the vices of falsehood, in- justice, cruelty : which punishment therefore is as natural as society ; and so is an instance of a kind of moral govern- ment, 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 earned on by tlie instrumentality of men ; the observation here made amounts to tliis, tliat mankind find themselves placed by him in such circumstances, as that they are unavoidably accountable for their behaviom% and are often punished, and sometimes rewarded, under his government, in the view of their being mischievous, or emmently beneficial to society. If it be objected that good actions, and such as ai^e benefi- ' It is observed, by way of illustration, that the moral education of children includes, as one of its subordinate parts, the punishing cf them ii they run into danger or hurt themselves through carelessness. — (Z>.) ^ See Dissertation II. • The argument may be stated in a different form : "A moral constitution of things being supposed to exist, in the world, we should expect the conse- quences of prudence and imprude^:ce above-mentioned to be found there; and they are found among us." — (Z>.) CH. III.J GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 115 cial to society, ai-e often punished, as in the case of persecu- tion and in other cases, and that ill and mischievous ac- tions are often rewarded, it may be answered distinctly : first, that this is in no sort necessaiy, and consequently not natural, in the sense in which it is necessaiy, and therefore natural, tliat 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 anything on the side of vice to be set over against it, that the Author of Nature has as truly di- rected that vicious actions, considered as mischievous to society, should be punished, and put mankind under a ne- cessity of thus punishing them, as he has directed and necessitated us to preseiwe om- lives by food. IV. In the natm*al course of things virtue as sucJi is ac- tually 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 must distinguish between actions themselves, and that quality ascribed to them which we call virtuous or vicious. The gi-atification itself of every natm^al 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 acquired, procures delight or advantage, abstracted from all consideration 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, vir- tuous or vicious. Thus, to say such an action or course of behaviour procured such pleasure or advantage, or brought on such inconvenience and pain, is quite a different tiling from saying that such good or bad eflect 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 ; m the other case, for it will appear that there are sinAi eases, the morality of the action under a moiid con- ' Tn other words, virtue ia rewarded for its virtuousness, and vice polished for its viciousness. — Ed, I 2 116 OF THE MORAL [PT. L Bideration,2.<9., the virtuousness or viciouspess of it, produced the effect. Now I say vutue as such, naturally procm^es considerable advantages to the virtuous, and vice as such naturally occasions great inconvenience, and even misery to tlie vicious, in very many instances. The immediate effects of virtue and vice upon the mind and temper are to be men- tioned as instances of it. Vice as such is naturally attended with some sort of uneasiness, and, not uncommonly, with great distm-bance and apprehension. That inward feeling' which, respecting lesser matters and in familial' speech, we call being vexed with oneself, and in matters of importance, and in more serious lansniao^e, remorse, is an mieasiness naturally arising from an action of a man's o\vn, reflected upon by himself as wi^ong, unreasonable, faulty, i.e., vicious in greater or less degi^ee ; and this manifestly is a different feeling from that mieasiness which arises from a sense of mere loss or harm. What is more common than to hear a man lamenting an acciden*, or event, and adding but, however, he has the satisfaction that he cannot blame himself for it ; or, on the contrary, that he has the uneasi- ness of being sensible it was his own doing? Thus, also, the distm-bance and fear which often follow upon a man's having done an injuiy arise from a sense of his being blame- worthy, otherwise there would in many cases be no gi^ound of disturbance, nor any reason to fear resentment or shame. On the other hand, inwai'd security and peace, and a mind open to the several gi^atifications 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, tlie real exercise, of gratitude, friendship, benerolence. And here, I tliink, 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 ; because these hopes and fears are present un- easiness and satisfaction to the mind, and cannot be got ' That we have an approving and disapproving faculty of this kind, is evident from our own experience — from the words right and wrc~g, odious and ;imiable, base and worthy, with many others of like signification in all 'languages, applied to actions and characters — from the many written systems of morals which suppose it — from our natural sense of gratitude, which implies a distinction between merely being the instrument of good and intead* Lm it, &c— (if.) See Butler on iU Nature qf Viriue, Dis. ii. 2. OH. ni.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 1 17 rid of by great part of the world, even by men w'no 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 tlie whole it may amount to. In the next place comes in the consideration, that aO honest and good men are disposed to befriend honest good men as such, and to discountenance the vicious as such, and do so in some degree, indeed in a considerable degree ; from which favom- and discouragement cannot but arise considerable advantage and inconvenience. And though the generality of tlie world have little regard to the morality of their o^vn 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, without remote views, occasionally, and in some low degree, I think, by the ge- nerality 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 om* country, considered in the view of being vhtuous. And sometimes even death itself, often infamy and external inconveniences, are the public consequences of vice as vice. For instance, the sense which mankind have of tyranny, in- justice, oppression, additional to the mere feeling or fear of misery, has doubtless been instrumental in bringing about revolutions, which make a figm-e even in the histoiy 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 generality are, in some degree, grateful, and disposed to retm^n good offices, not merely because such a one has been the occasion of good to them, but under the view that such good offices im[)lied kind intention and good desert in the doer. To all this may be added two or three particular things, which many p^^sons 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 not a moral institutiou 118 OF THE MORAL [PT. L of government, in the strictest sense moral visibly established and begun in natm^e. The particular things are these : that in domestic government, which is doubtless natural, children and others also are veiy 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 behaviour as such are naturally enforced by re- wards and punishments, whether more or less considerable in degree: that, though civil government be supposed to take cognizance of actions in no other view than as preju- dicial to society, without respect to tlie immorality of them, yet as such actions are immoral, so the sense which men have of the immorality of them veiy greatly contiibutes 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 procure, and cir- cumstances of aggravated guilt prevent, a remission of the penalties annexed to civil crimes, in many cases, tliough 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 disapprobation of them as such, in others. The sense of well and ill doing', the presages of conscience, the love of good characters and dislike of bad ones, honour, shame, resentment, gi^atitude ; all these considered in themselves, and in tlieir effects, do afford manifest real instances of virtue as such natm^aliy favoured, and of vice as such dis- countenanced, more or less, in the daily course of human life, in every age, in eveiy relation, in eveiy general circum- stance 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 w^iich gives this natm^e, as one may speak, scope to operate, and in which it does unavoidably operate ; i.e., influence man- kind to act, so as thus to favour and rewai'd vbtue, and ' The existence of a principle Avithin our breasts, which approves good actions and disapproves bad ones, is admirably drawn out and vindicated, in opposition to the views of such phildsophers as Hobbes and Shaftesbury, by Bishop Butler in his preface to the Sermons, and also in Sermons i. ii. and ui —Ed. " See Dissertation II. CH. III.] GOVERNMENT OF OOD. 119 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 degi'ee^ If a more distinct inquiiy be made, whence it arises, tliat virtue as such is often rewarded, and vice as such is pmiished, and this nile never inverted, it will be found to proceed, in part, immediately fi'om 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 tliat peace and delight, in some degi-ee and upon some occasions, is tlie necessary and present 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, secondhj, from om^ moral natm^e, joined with God's having put om^ happiness and miseiy in many re- spects in each other's power, it cannot but be, that \dce as such, some kinds and instances of it at least, will be infa- mous, 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 fuither punishment, which mankind will be disposed to inflict upon him, under the notion of his de- serving it. But there can be nothing on the side of vice to answer this ; because there is nothing in the human mind contradictory, 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 tiling 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 ' The conclusion to be drawn from the foregoing instances of virtue being rewarded as such, and vice punished as snch, in the natural course of things ihroughout human life, in its various relations, is this: our moral nature is one proof of God's moral government, and these instances are another; the first is a proof of a future and perfect, the second are examples of « present; though a modified, moral government. — (IF.) 120 OF THE MORAL [PT. I, any such thing at all ; but supposing there be), it is evidently monstrous ' ; as much so as tlie most acknowledged perver- sion of any passion whatever. Such instances of perversion then being left out as merely imaginaiy, or, however, im- natm'al ; it must follow, from the frame of om' nature, and from our condition in the respects now described, that vice cannot at all be, and virtue cannot but be favom'ed as such by others, upon some occasions, and happy in itself, in some degi'ee. For what is here insisted upon, is not the de- gree in which virtue and vice are thus distinguished, but only the thing itself, that they are so in some degi^ee ; though the whole good and bad effect of virtue and vice as such, is not inconsiderable m degree. But tliat they must be thus distinguished, in some degree, is in a manner necessary : it is matter of fact of daily experience, even in the gi^eatest confusion of human affahs. It is not pretended but that, in the natm^al course of things, happiness and miseiy appear to be distributed by other mles, 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 distribution perhaps must follow ; and also why our happiness and miseiy should be put in each others power, in the degree which they ai^e. And these things, as in general they contribute to the rewarding virtue and punishing vice, as such, so they often contri- bute 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, tliough vicious, and punishing other actions, though virtuous. But all this cannot drown the voice of Nature in the conduct of Pro\ddence, plainly de- claring itself for virtue, by way of distinction from vice, and preference to it. For om- being so constituted as that virtue and vice are thus naturally favom^ed and discountenanced, rewarded and punished, respectively as such, is an intuitive proof of the intent of Nature that it should be so ; other ' By " monstrous," Butler means contrary to the ordinary course of natural experience ; and, therefore, as exceptioaal cases, not to be taken into account in a philosophical disquisition. For it is an admitted principle, ovhi/Mtx ri^^vn ra, KOid 'tKcccrrcc fKOTU, — Ed* CH. III.] aOVERNMENT OF GOD. 121 wise the constitution of our mind, from vhich it thus immediately and directly proceeds, would be absurd. But it cannot be said, because virtuous actions are sometimes 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 peiTersion of such passion, implanted in us for other, and those very good purposes. And indeed these other and good pm'poses, 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 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 natm-ally a secret satisfaction and sense of security, and implicit hope of somewhat further. And, V. This hope is confimied 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 re- warded and punished as such, were it not, that justice is often artificially eluded, that characters are not knowTi, and many, who would thus favour virtue and discourage vice, are hindered from doing so by accidental causes. These tendencies of virtue and vice are obvious with regai'd to individuals. But it may require more particularly to be considered, that power in a society, by being under the * The distinctions between virtue and vice, above mentioned, flow from our natural constitution; but this constitution must be absurd, unless it have some final cause; therefore this intention of Nature is denoted and implied by it. But on the other hand, the irregular distribution of rewards and punish- meKts does not prove a similar intention of Nature; for they flow from no essential principle of our nature; therefore the natural passions which procure them may be in a state of perversion, which evidently and undoub^ ably they are. — (Z>.) ISS OF THE MOEAL [PT. L direction of virtue, naturally increases, and has a necessary tendency to prevail over opposite power, not under the direction of it ; in like manner, as power, by being under tlie direction of reason, increases, and has a tendency to prevail over brute force. There are several brute creatures of equal, and several of superior strength, to that of men ; and possibly the sum of the whole strength of bmtes 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 eailh. 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. To obviate these difficulties, let us see more distinctly, how the case stands with regard to reason, which is so readily acknowledged to have this advantageous tendency. Suppose then two or three men, of the best and most improved understanding, in a desolate open plain, attacked by ten times the number of beasts of prey: would their reason secm-e them the victory in this unequal combat? Power then, though joined with reason, and under its direction, cannot be expected to prevail over opposite power, though merely bnital, unless the one bears some proportion to the other. Again : put the imaginary case, that rational and nrational creatm-es were of like external shape and manner: it is certain, before there were opportunities for the first to distinguish each other, to separate from their adversaries, and to form a union among tliemselves, 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 natm-al strength and miderstanding wholly ununited could not. In this case, then, brute force might more than main- tain its gi'ound against reason, for want of miion 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 in ventions of art, and the experience of some yeai's, could they be preserved so long, would be really sufficient tQ CH. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 123 subdue the wild beasts, and t/3 preserve themselves in gecui'ity from them ; yet a conjunctm-e of accidents might give such advantage to the irrational animals as that they might at once overpower, and even extirpate, tlie whole species of rational ones. Length of time then, proper scope and opportunities, for reason to exert itself, may be absolutely necessaiy to its prevailing over brute force. Further still : there are many instances of brutes succeed- ing in attempts, which they could not have undertaken, had not tlieir irrational nature rendered them incapable of fore- seeing the danger of such attempts, or the fury of passion hindered their attending to it ; and tliere are instances of reason and real prudence preventing men's undertaking what, it hath appeared afterwards, they might have suc- ceeded in by a lucky raslmess. And in certain conjunc- tures, ignorance and folly, weakness and discord, may have their advantages. So that rational animal» have not neces- sarily the superiority over irrational ones ; but, how impro- bable soever it may be, it is evidently possible, that in some globes the latter may be superior. And were the former wholly at vainance and disunited, by false self-interest and envy, by treacheiy and injustice, and consequent rage and malice against each other, whilst the latter were fimily imited among themselves by instinct; this might gTeatly contribute to the introducing such an inverted order of things. For every one would consider it as inverted : since reason has, in the natiue of it, a tendency to prevail over brute force ; notwithstanding the possibility it may not prevail, and the necessity, which there is, of many concur- ring circumstances to render it prevalent. Now I say, virtue in a society has a like tendency to procm^e superiority and additional power, whether this power be considered as the means of security from oppo- site power, or of obtaining other advantages. And it has this tendency, by rendering public good an object and end to every member of the society, by putting every one upon consideration and diligence, recollection and self-govern- ment, both in order to see what is the most effectual method, and also in order to perform their proper part, for obtaining and presei-ving it; by uniting a society within itself, and so increasing its strengtli; and, which is par- ticularly to be mentioned, uniting it by means of veracity 124 OB^ THE MORAL [PT. I. fcnd justice. For as these last ai'e principal bonds of union, so benevolence, or public spirit, undirected, unrestrained by them, is, nobody knows what. And suppose the invisible world and the invisible dispen- sations of Providence to be in any sort analogous to what appears, or tliat both together make up one uniform scheme, the two parts of which, the part which we see, and tliat 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 dhection of virtue, to prevail in general over that which is not under its dhection, as there is in reason, derived reason in the universe, to prevail over brute force '. But then, in order to the prevalence of virtue, or that it may actually produce what it has a tendency to produce, the like concurrences ai-e 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 dhection of virtue ; there must be sufficient length of time ; for the complete success of vhtue, 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 tlie 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 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 over much greater not under the direction of it. However, good men over the face of the earth cannot miite, as for other reasons, so because they cannot be sufficiently ascertained of each other's characters. And tlie known course of human tilings, the scene we are now passing through, particularly tlie shortness of life, denies to virtue its full scope in several other respects. The natm-al ten- ' From two hypothetical, but easily conceivable, cases, in which the tendency of virtue to prevail is developed and its hindrances removed, we may see more clearly the natural character of this tendency, and at thei time the merely accidental character of these hjadrance*. — (W.) CH. IIl.l GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 126 dency which we have been considering, though real, ia hindered from being canied into effect in the present state ; but these hindi-ances may be removed in a futm^e one. Virtue, to borrow the Christian allusion, is militant here, and various untoward accidents contribute to its being often overborne ; but it may combat with greater advantage here- after, and prevail completely, and enjoy its consequent rewards, in some future states. Neglected as it is, perhaps onknown, perhaps despised and oppressed here, there may be scenes in eternity, lasting enough, and in every other way adapted to afford it a sufficient sphere of action, and a sufficient sphere for the natural consequences of it to follow in fact. If the soul be naturally immortal, and this state be a progress towai^ds a future one, as childhood is towards mature age, good men may naturally unite, not only amongst themselves, but also with other orders of virtuous creatures, in that future state. For virtue, from the very natm^e of it, is a principle and bond of union, in some degree, amongst all who are endued with it, and known to each other, so as that by it, a good man cannot but recom- mend himself to the favour and protection of all virtuous beings throughout the whole miiverse who can be ac- quainted with his character and can any way inteipose in his behalf in any part of his duration. And one might add, that suppose all this advantageous tendency of viitue to become effect amongst one or more orders of creatures 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 vhtue. If our notions of the plan of Providence were enlarged in any sort proportion- able to what late discoveries have enlarged our views with respect to the material world, representations of this kind would not appear absurd or extravagant. However, they ai-e not to be taken as intend(.d for a literal delineation of what is in fact the particular scheme of the universe, which cannot be kno\vn without revelation; for suppositions ai'e liot to be looked on as tme because not incredible , but they are mentioned to show that our finding virtue to be hin- dered from procuring to itself such superiority and advair 123 OF THE MORAL [PT. I. tages, is no objection against its having, in ihe essential nature of the thing, a tendency to procure them. And tho suppositions now mentioned do plainly show this, for they show, that these hindi-ances are so far from being neces- saiy, tliat we ourselves can easily conceive how tliey may be removed in futm-e states, and full scope be gi^anted to virtue. And all tliese advantageous tendencies of it are to be considered as declarations of God in its favom'. This, however, is taking a pretty large compass, though it is certam, that, as the material world appears to be, in a manner, boundless and immense, there must be some scheme of Providence vast in proportion to it. But let us return to the earth om' 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 succes- sion of many ages ; to which, if you please, may be given a situation advantageous for miiversal 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. Each 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 them- selves veiy 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 fniits of his own virtue. And as injustice, whether by fraud or force, would be unkno^^^l among themselves, so they would be sufficiently secured from it in their neighbours. For cmming and false self-interest, confederacies in injustice^ ' The truth which supplies the basis of Butler's argument is supported by exhibiting to our minds the scheme in its developed state, wherein the impediments of virtue are supposed to have been removed, and the eflFict oi its tendencies completed; in this manner causing us to observe how readily our minds Jipprehend its propriety.: in other words, how easily and entirely it coiucides with the conceptions of that reasor vhich God has given us. — (jD.) CH. in] GO^'ERNMENT OF GOD. 12T ever slight, and accompanied with faction and intestine treachery ; these on one hand would be found mere childish folly and weakness, when set in opposition a-gainst wisdom, pubhc spirit, union inviolable, and fidelity on the other; allowing both a sufficient length of years to tiy their force. Add the general influence, which such a kingdom would have over the face of the earth, by way of example particu larly, 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 kingdoms submitting themselves volun- tarily 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 peojde, nations, and languages should serve him. And though indeed our knowledge of human natm-e, and the whole history of man- kind, show the impossibility, without some miraculous interposition, that a number of men here on eaith 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 instance, the wonderful power and prosperity promised to the Jewish nation in the Scrip- ture would be in a gTeat measm-e 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, camiot 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 natm-ally follow, to a very considerable degree. Consider now the general system of religion : that the government of the world is unifoi*m, and one, and moral ; Slat viitue and right shall finally have the advantage, and prevail over fraud and lawless force, over the deceits as wr.'U B^ the violence of wickedness, under the conduct (f oiQ ' Isa. Ix. 21. 128 OF THE MORAL [PT. I supreme governor ; and from the observations above made, it will appear, that God has, by om- reason, given us to see a peculiar connection in the several pails of this scheme, and a tendency towards the completion of it, arising out of the very natm^e of virtue : which tendency is to be con- sidered as somewhat moral in the essential constitution of tilings. 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 advantageous tendencies, or if virtue had essentially the dhect contraiy ones. But it may be objected, that notwithstanding all these natm-al effects and these natural tendencies of virtue, yet thuigs may be now going on throughout the universe, and may go on hereafter, in the same mixed way as here at pre- sent upon earth : virtue sometimes prosperous, sometimes depressed ; 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 Eeligion ; 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 obsenations to this purpose may be thus distinctly proved. Pleasure and pain are indeed to a certain degi'ee, say to a veiy high degi'ee, distributed amongst us without any apparent regard to the merit or demerit of characters. And were there no- thing else concerning this matter disceiTiible in the consti- tution and course of natm-e, 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 ac- cording 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 futm-e state of retribution would rest u])on 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. Bu. these things are a veiy sti'ong confirma- tion of them. For, First. They show that the Author of Nature is not indiffer CH. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 129 ent 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 set over against or answer, on the part of vice. So that were a man, laying aside the proper proof of Religion, to determhie from the course of nature only, whether it were most probable, that the righteous or the wicked would have the advantage in a futm^e 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 practi cal proof of the obligations of Religion. Secondly. When, conformably to what Religion teaches us, God shall reward and punish vu-tue and vice as such, so as that every one shall, upon the whole, have his deserts ; this distributive 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 com- pletion of that moral government, the principles and beginning of wliich have been shown, beyond all dispute, discernible in the present constitution and course of natm^e. And from hence it follows. Thirdly. That, as under the natural government of God, our experience of those kinds and degrees of happiness and miseiy, which we do experience at present, gives just gi'ound to hope for, and to fear, higher degrees and other kinds of both in a futm^e state, supposing a future state admitted : so under his moral government our experience, that virtue and vice are, in the manners above mentioned, actually rewai^ded and punished at present, in a certain degi'ee, gives just gromid to hope and to fear, that they may be rewarded and punished in 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 oi things ; whereas the hindrances to their becoming effect we, in numberless cases, not necessary', but ai tificial only. 130 OF THE MOR.\L GOVERNMENT OF GOD. fPT. L Now it may be much more strongly argued, that these ten- dencies, as well as the actual rewai^ds and punishments, of \'ii'tue and vice, which arise directly out of the nature of things, will remain hereafter, than that the accidental hindrances of them will. And if these hindrances do not remain, those rewai'ds and pmiishments cannot but be carried on much farther towai'ds the perfection of moral government; i. e., the tendencies of vhtue 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 miplied in God's natural government ' ; virtue and vice are naturally rewarded and punished as beneficial and mis- chievous to society ~, and rewai^ded and punished directly as virtue and vice ^ The notion, then, of a moral scheme of government is not fictitious, but natural ; for it is sug- gested to our thoughts by the constitution and com^se of natm-e ; 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 Natm-e, for vutue, and against vice ; they give a credibility to the sup- position of their being rewarded and punished hereafter, and also gi'oand to hope and to fear that they may be re- warded and punished in higher degrees than they ai'e here ^, and as all this is confinned, so the argument for religion from the constitution and com'se of nature is carried on farther, by obseiwing that there are natm^al tendencies, and, in innumerable cases, only artificial hindrances, to this moral scheme's being caiTied on much farther towards per- fection 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 natm'al notion ; for it is sug- gested to om' thoughts by the essential tendencies of virtue and vice ; and these tendencies are to be considered as in- timations, as implicit promises and tlu'eatenings from tlie Author of Nature of much greater rewai'ds and pmiishments ' P. 113. 2 p. 114 3 p 115^ &c. * Butler concludes, not only that '* the notion of a moral scheme of govern- ment is not fictitious but natural," but also that " the notion of a moral eclieme far more perfect than what we see realized here is not fictitious, bat mctural; that is, it is in strict accordance with the constitution and course of "Qature, as it presents itself to our sight." — £d. * P. 121, Sec. CH. IV. J OF A STATE OF TRIAL. 131 to follow virtue and vice than do at present; and indeed evei-y 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, a presumption in degree proportionable to the length of the dm-ation through which such tendency will continue ; and from these things together arises a real presumption that the moral scheme of government esta- blished in nature shall be earned on much farther towai'ds perfection hereafter, and, I think, a presmnption that it will be absolutely completed. But from these things, joined with the moral natme 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 h^om the eternal and un- alterable relations, the fitness and unfitness of actions -. CHAPTER IV 3. OF A STATE OF PROBATION, AS IMPLYING TRIAL, DIFFICULTIES AND DANGER. The general doctrine of religion, that our present life is 9 state of probation for a future one, comprehends imder it several particular things distinct from each other. But the first and most common meaning of it seems to be, that om' fat\ire interest is now depending, and depending upon our- ' See this proof drawn out briefly, Chap. vi. — Ed. 2 Throughout the present work, Butler has considered only the moral difference, by which virtue and vice, as such, are approved and disapproved. Dr. S. Clarke has demonstrated, in his sermons at Boyle's lecture, that there are essential differences in the qualities of human actions established in nature; and that this natural difference of things, prior to and independent of all will, creates a natural ^9 involved in endless difficulties; the latter can be mce distinctly answered from Kevelation. — £d. 140 OF A STATE OF [pT. I. ▼irtue and piety, as the requisite qualification for a future state of security and happiness'. Now the beginning of Ufe, considered as an education for mature 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 capacity. But some obser^^ations common tc> 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 natm^e 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 particular way of life, to which the nature, the capacities, temper, and qualifications of each species, are as necessaiy as their external circumstances. Both come into the notion of such state or particular way of life., and are constituent parts of it. Change a man's capacities or character to the degree in which it is conceivable they may be changed, and he would be altogether incapable of a human com^se of life, and human happiness ; as incapable as if, his nature con tinning unchanged, he were placed in a world where he had no sphere of action, nor any objects to answer his apj)etites, passions, and affections of any sort. One thing is set over against another, as an ancient writer expresses it. Our natm-e corresponds to our external condition-. Without 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 con- dition jointly; meaning by human life, not living in the literal sense, but the whole complex notion commonly understood by those words. So that, without detemiining what will be the employment and happiness, tlie particular ' A probation state having been considered and established in the last chapter, as implying trial, i. e., difficulties and dangers, is here considered in this other sense as implying moral discipline and improvement. — {W.) ^ Bishop Butler, in his sermons, has clearly shown the peculiar corre- •pondence between the inward frame of man and the external conditions and circumstances of life; that the several passions and affections of the heart, compared with those circumstances, are certain instances of final causes; for example, anger leads us to the immediate resistance of injury, and compag' •ion prompts us to relieve the distressed.- -Cff.) CH. V] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 141 life, of good men hereafter, there must be some detenninate capacities, some necessaiy chai^acter and quahfi cations, MT.thout 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 rnider our notice, is such, as tliat they are 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 qualifica- tions ; 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 capaci- ties, not only of perceiving ideas, and of knowledge or per- ceiving trutli, but also of storing up our ideas and know- ledge by memoiy. We are capable, not only of acting, and of having different momentaiy impressions made upon us, but of getting a new facility in any kind of action, and of settled 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 necessaiy to the forming of tliem. How- ever, apprehension, reason, memory, which are the capacities of acquiring knowledge, are greatly improved by exercise. Whether the word habit is applicable to all these improve- ments, 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 par- ticular kind of action, proceeding from being accustomed to it. And aptness to recollect practical obseiTations of ser- vice in our conduct, is plainly habit in many cases. There are habits of perception and habits of action. An instance of the former is our constant and even involuntaiy readi- ness, in correcting tho impressions of our sight con- cerning magnitudes and distances, so as to substitute judg ment in the room of sensation impede eptibly to ourselves And it seems as if all other associations of ideas not natu 142 OF A STATE OF [pT. I. rally connected might be called passive habits ; as properly as 0111' readiness in understanding languages upon sight, or hearing of words. And oui- readiness in speaking and v\Titing tl lem is an mstance of tlie latter, of active habits. For distinctness, we may consider habits as belonging to tlie 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 mibecoming, which are owing to use ; imder the latter, general habits of life and conduct, such as those of obedience and submission to authority, or to any particular person ; those of veracity, justice, and charity ; those of attention, industiy, self- govemment, envy, revenge. And habits of tliis latter kind seem produced by repeated acts, as well as the former. And in like manner as habits belonging to the body are pro- duced by external acts, so habits of the mind are produced by tlie exertion of inward practical principles, i. e., by car- lying them into act, or acting upon them ; the principles of obedience, of veracity, justice, and charity. Nor can those habits be formed by any external course of action, other- wise 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 en\'y and revenge by mdulgence, whether in outward act, or in tliought and intention, i. e., inwai'd act, for such m- tention is an act. Eesolutions also to do well are properly acts. And endeavom^ing to enforce upon om* own minds a practical sense of virtue, or to beget m others that practical sense of it which a man really has himself, is a virtuous act. All these, tlierefore, may and will contribute towards fomiing good habits. But going over tlie tlieoiy of virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pictures of it, — tliis is so far from necessarily or certainly conducing to fonn a habit of it, in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the mind in a contrary course, and render it gi-adually more insensible, i. e., form a habit of insensibility to all moral considerations. For from our veiy faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being repeated, gTow weaker ^ ' Passive impressions are weakened by being repeated, as is evidenced Vy the resuU of familiarity with danger, with the sight of distress, or with UH. r.] MOP.AL DISCIPLINE. 148 Thoughts, by often passing tlirough the mind, are felt less sensibly; being accustomed to danger begets intrepidity, i. e., lessens fear ; to distress, lessens tlie passion of pity ; to instances of otliers' mortality, lessens the sensible appre- hension of our own. Arid from these two obsen-ationa together — that practical habits are foi-med and strengtliened by repeated acts, and that passive impressions grow weaker by being repeated upon us — it must follow that active habits may be gradually foiToing and strengtliening by a course of acting upon such and such motives and excitements, whilst these mocives and excitements themselves are, by propor- tionable degi'ees, growing less sensible; i. e., are continually less and less sensibly felt, even as the active habits strengthen. And experience confirms this ; for active principles, at the verj' time that they are less lively in per- ception tlian they were, are found to be, somehow, wrought more thoroughly into the temper and character, and become more effectual in influencing our practice. The tln-ee tilings just mentioned may afford instances of it. Perception 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 tliat the former gi-adually lessens. Perception of disti^ess in otliers is a natm-al 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 gi^ow less and less sensibly affected with the various miseries of life with which he must become ac- quainted ; when yet, at the same time, benevolence, con- sidered not as a passion, but as a practical principle of action, will strengthen; and whilst he passively compas- sionates the distressed less, he will acquire a greater apti tude actively to assist and befriend tliem. So also at tlie same time tliat tlie daily instances of men's dying around us give us daily a less sensible passive feeling or appre- instances of mortality. Then, since practical habits are formed and strength- ened by the repetition of acts, and the passive impressions which excite to those acts are weakened by repetition of them, it follows, that active habits af6 being strengthened in proportion as the excitements to action are .less sensibly felt; or, if we reverse the statement, that passive impressions are less perceived as the active habits which nave arisen out of them, gair itreugth.— (D.) 144 CS" A STATE OP [FT. L bension of our own mortality, such instances greatly con- tribute to the strengthening a practical regard to it in serious men, i. e., to formmg a habit of acting with a constant view to it. And this seems again fartlier to show Ihat passive impressions made upon om' minds by admonition, experience, example, though they may have a remote efficacy, and a veiy great one, towards forming active habits, yet can have this efficacy no otherwise than by in- ducing us to such a com-se 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 en- deavours to enforce good impressions upon ourselves are a species of virtuous 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 m fact the appointment of natm^e, which is, that active habits ai'e to be fonned by exercise. Their progi-ess 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 ori- ginal, so as to distinguish it from all others in our mind ; and it seems as 'if contrar}' effects were to be ascribed to it. But the thing in general, tliat om* natm^e is formed to yield, in some such mamier as tliis, to use and exercise, is matter •of certain experience. Thus by accustoming ourselves to any com-se of action, we get an aptness to go on, a facility, readiness, and often pleasure, in it. The inclinations which rendered us averse to it grow weaker ; the difficulties in it, not only the ima- ginaiy but the real ones, lessen; tlie 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 sti^onger, 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 com^se. And thus a new character, in several respects, may be formed, and many habitudes of life, not given by natm-e, but which natiu^e directs us to acquii'e. on. v.] irfORAL DISOIPIJNE. 145 III. Indv^ed we may be assured, that we. should never have had tliese capacities of improving by experience, ac- quired knowledge, and habits, had tliey not been necessary, and intended to be made use of'. And accordingly we find them so necessaiy, and so much mtended, that witliout tliem 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 matm^e state of life. Even maturity of un- derstanding and bodily strength are not only arrived to gradually, but are also veiy 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 apprehension, and cu- riosity, 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 anything-. ' We no-t only have a particular kind of life designed for us as human beings, and the faculty of improving our qnalitications by habits, but we are made capable of the one only through means of the other. We are not fitted for the end of our creation as inhabitmts of this world, prior to our acquisition of knowleiige, experience, and habits. For first, as a matter ol fact, it is only by degrees that we gain our qualifications for mature life; and secondly, if any one were suddenly ushered into mature life, with full powers, but without experience, he would be altogether unfit for the practical business of life.— ^cZ. ^ The supposition that for perfect vision there is required, not merely the natural power of the organ, but also experience, is common to Locke with Bishop Butler, and has been confirmed by Cheselden's operation for cataract on a child born blind. It appears that this child, though he obtained the power of sight, could not estimate the size or distance of those olijects which he had before discriminated by touch — everything seemed large and touching his eyes — so that he spent a year in learning to see like others; in acquiring (to apply Butler's words) "the perceptive habit of correcting, with constant and even involuntary readiness, the impressions of sight concerning magnitudes and distances, so as to substitute judgment in ti^ie room of sensation imperceptibly to ourselves." . . . The connection of the miraculous cure of the bund man by degrees (St. Mark viii. 22, &c.» rtith this subject,, has been before remarked. By the first imposition of cur Lord's hands, the natural power of the organ was given, but not tht habit oi 146 OF A STATE OF [PT. 1. It may be questioned, too, whether tlie natural infonnatlon of his sight and liearing would be of any mar jer of use at all to him in acting, before experience. And :t seems that men would be strangely headstrong and se^f-willed, and disposed to exert themselves witli an impetuosity which would render society insupportable, and the living in it impracticable, were it not for some acquired moderation and selt-govemment, some aptitude and readiness in restraining themselves, and concealing their sense of things. Want of everything of this kind which is leamt would render a man as rmcapable of society as want of language would ; or as his natural ignorance of any of the particular employments of life would render him uncapable of providing himself with the common conveniences, or supplying the necessaiy 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, ex- perience, and habits, for that mature state of life, which was the end of his creation, considering him as related only to til is world. But then, as nature has endued us with a power of sup- plying those deficiencies, by acquired knowledge, expe- rience, and habits, 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 matm*e age. Hence children, from their very birth, are daily gi^owing acquainted with the objects about them, with tlie scene in which they are placed, and to have a future part; and learning somewhat or other, necessaiy 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. Wliat passes before their eyes, and daily happens to them, gives them experience, caution against treachery and deceit, togethsr with numberless little rules of action and conduct, discrimination; men were only by their walking distinguished from trees — ■ .n size the objects seemed trees, in motion, men. By the second imposition of our Lord's hands, the perceptive habit, usually acquired by experience, w.is added, and the vision made i)ertect i he was restored, and saw ceiy te&n dearly. — {W.) CH V.J MORAL DISCIPLINE. liTt which we could not live ^vithout. and which are learnt so insensibly and so perfectly, as lo be mistaken perhaps lor instinct, though they are the effect of long experience and exercise ; as much so as language, or knowledge in par- ticular business, or the qualifications and behaviour belong- ing to the several ranks and professions. Thus the begin- ning of our days is adapted to be, and is, a state of educa- tion in the theory and practice of mature life. We aro much assisted in it by example, instruction, and the cai^e of others ; but a great deal is left to ourselves to do. And of tliis, as part is done easily and of course, so part requires diligence and care, the voluntaiy foregoing many things which 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 industiy, which the station of so many absolutely requires, they would be greatly un- qualified for in maturity, as tliose 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 par- ticular employments,, their character is fonned 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 unportant opportunity which nature puts mto om^ hands,, and which, when lost, is not to be recovered. And oui being placed in a state of discipline throughout this life, for anotlier world is a jDrovidential 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 were 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 con- tribute to the growth of the body, nor could have any thought that they would, before we had experience. Ko$ do children at all thinJc, on tlie one hand, that the sports and e.xerciaes, to wiucn thev are so much addicted, contxi? 5. a 148 OF A STATE OF [PT. I bute to their health and gi^owth, nor, on the other, of the necessity which there is for tlieir 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 busmess of mature 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 c^her, from the general analogy of Provi- dence. And this, for aught I see, might reasonably be said even though we should not take in the consideration of Gods moral government over the world. But, IV. Take in this consideration, and consequently, that the character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualihcation for the future state ', and then we may distinctly see how, and in what respects, tlie 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 obsen^ed how, and in what respects, infancy, childhood, and youth are a necessary prepai^ation, and a natural state of discipline, for matm^e age. Nothing v/hich we at present see would lead us to the thought of a solitary miactive state hereafter; but, if we judge at all from the analogy of nature, we must suppose, according to the Scripture accomit of it, that it will be a community ~. And there is no shadow of anything un- I'easonable in conceiving, though there be no analogy for it, that this comnmnity will be, as the Scriptm-e represents it, under the more immediate, or, if such an expression may be used, the more sensible government, of God. Nor ' There must be some qualifications necessary for a future state; and these must be moral, since the suite itself is so. And we have reason to believe that the moral virtues requisite in a community will be among them; for aualogy. no less than Holy Scripture, suggests a social and active, rather than a solitary and inactive, state. — (D.) ♦ That the future state will be an active community, we judge from the analogy of nature; that it will be under the more sensible moral government of (jrod, is the reasonable representation of Scripture; and from these thin.) 152 OF A STATE OF [pT. I. low a degi-ee soever, yet some tendency, to induce persona to such forbidden gi-atification. Th^s tendency in somo one particular propension may be increased by the gi'eater frequency of occasions naturally exciimg it, than of ocea sions exciting others. The least voluntary indulgence in forbidden circumstances, though but in thought, will increase this wrong tendency, and may increase it fui'ther, till, peculiar conjunctures perhaps conspiring, it becomes effect, and danger of deviating from right ends in actual deviation from it, a danger necessarily 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 person 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 in^egularity might disorder the inward constitu tion, 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 constitution would be spoiled, and creatures made upright become con^upt and depraved in their settled character proportionably to their repeated irregularities in occasional acts. But, on the contrary, these creatures might have improved and raised themselves to a higher and more secure state of virtue by the conti-ary behaviour; by steadily following the moral principle sup- posed to be one part of their nature, and tlius withstanding that miavoidable danger of defection wiiich necessarily arose from propension, the other part of it. For by thus presenting their integi'ity for some time their danger would ^essen, since propensions, by being inured to submit> would do it more easily and of course ; and their seciu^ity 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 * This observation may serve as an answer to tlie common objection, that the consequences of a single crime in our tSrst parents are represented in Holy Scripture as excessive. — {H.) CH. v.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 158 in itself, but also depraves the inward constitution and character. And virtuous self-government is not only right in itself, out also improves the inward constitution or cha- racter, 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 conse- quently should allow that such creatures as have been above supposed would for ever remain defectible, 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 secm-ity. 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 remain 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 gi'ound 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 im- proved 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 original rectitude, and whose passions are become ex- cessive by repeated violations of tlieir inward constitution ! Upright creatures^ may want to be improved; depraved creatm^es want to be renewed. Education and discipline, which may be in all degrees and sorts of gentleness and of severity, are expedient for those ; but must be absolutely necessaiy for these. For these, discipline of the severer sort too, and in the higher degrees of it, must be necessarj^ ' Bj upright creatures we mean those possessed of an upright constitution, and by such a constitution is meant a constitution in which the moral pr:n« fiiple and the particular affections are in the exactest possible proportion with reference to the intended state of life : creatures so constituted would be up right or finitely perfect.-— ( Tr._) 154 OF A STATE OF [PT. 1 In oi'der to wear out vicious habits ; to recover their primi tive 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 ijecuUarly Jit to be a state of dis- cipline for this purpose, to such as will set themselves to mend and improve. For, the various temptations with which we are surrounded ; our experience of the deceits of wickedness ; having been in many instances led wrong our- selves ; the great viciousness of the world ; the infinite dis- orders consequent upon it ; our being made acquainted Avith 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 wi'ong effects upon our minds, yet, when duly reflected upon, have, all of them, a direct tendency to bring us to a settled moderation and reason- ableness of temper ; the contrary both to thoughtless levity, and also to that unrestrained self-will and violent bent to follow present inclination which may be observed in un- disciplined minds'. Such experience as the present state atibrds of the frailty of our nature ; of the boundless ex- travagance of ungoverned passion ; of the power which an infinite Being has over us, by the various capacities of miseiy which he has given us : in short, tliat kind and degree of experience 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 happiness, and becoming vicious and wretched, hath a tendency to give us a practical sense of things very different from a mere speculative Imowledge, that we are liable to vice, and capable of miseiy. 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, foHTied, and habitually fixed within them, in some state of probation? And passing through the present world with ' It is thus that partial evil becomes, or at least is overruled to, the general good of the human race. It may, indeed, be turned by us to a wrong end ; bnt, if we duly reflect, we shall see that its real tendency is to good.— Kd. CH. v.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 155 that moral attention wliich is necessary to the acting a right part in it may leave everlasting impressions of this sort upon om- 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 have, of avoiding what we dislike, or obtaining what we desire, by unlawful means, when we either cannot do it at all, or at least not so easily, by lawful ones, — these things, i. e., the snares and tempta- tions of vice, are what render the present world peculiarly 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, necessaiy in order to that end. And the exercise of such particular re- collection, intention of mind, and self-government, in the practice of virtue, has, from the make of om* 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 con- stant 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 anytliing 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 continued exerting of that act of virtue in a high degree^ which need have been, and perhaps would have been, onlj instantaneous and iveak had the temptation been so. It ia indeed ridiculous to assert, that self-denial is essential to virtue and piety ; but it would have been nearer the ti'uth, though not strictly the truth itself, to have said, that it is essential to discipline and improvement. For though actions materially virtuous, which have no sort of difficulty, but are perfectly agi^eeable to our particular inclinations, may pos- sibly be done only from these particular inclinations, and so may not be any exercise of the principle of virtue, i. e., not be virtuous actions at all ; yet, on the contraiy, they may be an exercise of that principle ; and when they are, they have a tendency to fomi and fix the habit of virtue But when the exercise of the virtuous principle is mor< continued, oftener repeated, and more intense, as it mus* be in circumstances of danger, temptation, and difficulty. 156 OF A STATE OF PPT. I. of any kind and in any degree, this tendency is increased proportionably, and a more confirmed habit is the conse- quence. This undoubtedly holds to a certain length ; but how far it may hold, I know not. Neither our intellectual powers, nor our bodily strength can be improved beyond such a degree; and both may be over-wrought. Possibly there may be somewhat 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 confutation of them, which it is not. And there may be several other exceptions. Ob- servations of this kind cannot be supposed to hold minutely and in eveiy 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 tJie present world is peculiarly Jit to he a state of discipline jor our improvement in virtue and 2:)iety ; 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 contrary, they seem to make it a discipline of vice. And the viciousness of the world is in different ways the great temptation which renders it a state of virtuous disciphne, in the degi^ee it is to good men. The whole end and the whole occasion of mankind's being placed in such a state as the present, is not pretended 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 recoveiy, 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 ' In other words, " we do not pretend to account for the whole end for which mankind are placed in such a state as the present ; but it is to bfl observed, that tlie very viciousness of the world adapts it peculiarly forastata »{ discipline to those who will amend ; and that a state of society perfect!^' YjriHous, or vicious in a leas degree, would be less adapted to this pur post.'— (X>.) CT v.] MORAL DJSCIPIJNE 157 only an exercise of virtue in these persons, but an exercise of it in ways and degrees peculiarly apt to improve it; apt to improve it, in some respects, even beyond what svould be by the exercise of it required in a perfectly virtuous society, or in a society of equally imperfect virtue with themselves. 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. P'or, of the numerous seeds of vegetables and bodies of animals, which are adapted and put in the way to im})rove to such a point or state of natural maturity and perfection, we do not see perhaps that one in a milhon 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 perfec- tion answer tlie end for which they were really designed by natm'e, and therefore that nature designed them for such perfecticn. And I cannot forbear adding, though it is not to tlie present purpose, that the appearance of such an amazing waste in nature, Avith respect to these seeds and bodies by foreign causes, is to us as unaccoimtable 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 be- haviour materially virtuous proceeds from hope and fear, so far it is only a discipline and strengthening of selflove'. But doing what God commands, because he commands it, is obedience, though it proceeds from hope or fear. And a course of such obedience AviU form habits of it. And a constant regard to veracity, justice, and charity, may form distinct habits of these particular virtues, and will certainly foiTU habits of self-government, and of denying our incn- nations whenever veracity, justice, or charity requires it. , ^ Religion is so far from disowning the principle of self-love, that it often addresses itseit to that very principle, and always to the mind in that gtate where reason f.<-» ies ; and there can be had no access to the under- standing, but by convincing men that the course of life we would persuade luem to is aot contrary to their interest. — Butlers Semon xiii. 153 OF A. STATE OF [pT. I. Nor is tliere any foundation for this gi^eat nicety, with which some affect to distinguish m this ease, in order to depreciate all Religion proceeding from hope or fear. For veracity, iustice, and charity, regard to God's authority and to our o\vn 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 natm-e as moral, and to the relation which God stands in to us as moral governor of it ; nor, consequently, can he fail of obtaining tliat happiness which this constitution and relation necessarily suppose connected with that character \ These several observations, concerning the active prin- ciple of virtue and obedience to Gods commands, are ap- plicable to passive submission or resignation to his will ~ ; which is another essential part of a right character con- nected with tlie foraier, and very much in our power to fomi 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 necessaiy to qualify for, a state of perfect happiness ; but it is not ex- perience which can make us thmk thus. Prosperity itself, whilst anything supposed desirable is not ours, begets ex travagant and mibounded thoughts. Imagination is alto gether as much a source of discontent as anytliing in our external condition. It is indeed true, that thei-e 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 ' Butler's meaning is as follows : — Self-love, as an active principle, aiming at our chief interest must uniformly coincide with the will of God ; for obedience to his will must ever be our chief interest. But self-love, as a passive feeling of desire ion the gratification of our wishes and afi'ections, may not be more absolutely coincident with Grod's will than our particular affec- tions are ; and as being, like them, subject to excitement, independent of the approbation of the moral principle, they may require habits of resignation, as those require habits of obedience. At all events, botli of them, as pas- sive feelings, disturb the mind, and so need discipline in order to restrain them.— (L*.) * Resignation to the will of God is the ^vhole of 'piety ; it includes in it all that is good, and is a source of the most settled quiet and composure oi Hind. It may be said to be perfect ^hen our n-ill is lost and resolved iutc SiS. — Serm. iciv. {Ed.) OH. v.] MOTvAL DISCIPLINE. 159 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 owm chief interest, must be in every case one and the same thing: yet it may be questioned whether self-love, con- sidered merely as the desire of our own interest or happi- ness, can, from its nature, be thus absolutely and uniformly coijicident with the will of God, any more than particular affections can ^ ; coincident in such sort as not to be liable to be excited upon occasions and in degi^ees impossible tc 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 obvious that both self-love and particular affection in human creatures, considered only as passive feelings, distort and rend the mind, and therefore stand in need of discipline. Now denial of those particular affec- tions, in a course of active virtue and obedience to God's will, has a tendency to moderate them, and seems also to have a tendency to habituate the mind to be easy and satis- fied with that degree of happiness which is allotted us, i. e., to moderate self-love. But the proper discipline 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 pemiit in his w^orld and under his government ; this will habituate the mind to a dutiful submission. And such submission, together 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 condi- tion 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 preca- rious and usui-ped: but it is forming within om'selves the ' Page 149. ^ The wiiole temper or cnnracter in us which answers to the sovereignty of God and belongs to our dependent condition, is formed by the union al the two principles of active obedience and passive submisaioa. — (D.) 160 OF A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. [PT. I; temper oi resignation to iiis rightful authority, who is by nature bapreme over all. Upon tlie whole : such a character and such qualifica tions are necessary for a mature state of life in tlie present world, as nature alone does in no wise bestow, but has put it upon us, in great part, to acquire in our progi-ess from one stage of life to another, from childhood to mature age ; put it upon us to acquire 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 disci- pline for another. It is in vain, then, to object against the credibility of the present life's being intended for this purpose, tliat all the trouble and the danger unavoidably accompanying such discipline might have been saved us b} our being made at once the creatures and the characters which we were to be. P'or we experience, that ivhat we were to he 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 de ficiencies and security against our dangers, since it is as 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 anything whatever is a natural law, chiefly in the beginning of life, but also throughout the whole cou]-se of it. And the alternative is left to our choice; nither 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 ana- logy of nature, that the same may be our case, with respect to the happmess of a future state, and the qualifications aecessaiy for it. There is a third thing' which may seem implied in tlie ' A probation-state has been already regarded in a twofold light — first, as nnitlying trial, difficulties, and danger ; secondly, as implying mural discipline and improvement. It remains to speak of it as a stage for the exhibition q{ ciawctei. — Ea. CU. Vl] NECESSTIY, AS INFLUENCING VRACTICE. IGl present 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 consequence 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 maimers which we are not acquainted with ; particularly it may be a means, for tlie Author of Nature does not appear to do anything without means, of their being disposed of suitably to their characters, and of its being known to the creation, by way of examj)le, that they are thus disposed of. But not to enter upon any conjectural accomit of this, one may just mention, that the manifestation of persons' characters con- tributes veiy much, in various ways, to the carrying on a great part of that general course of nature, respecting man- kind, which comes under our observation at present. I shall only add, that probation, in both these senses, as well as in that ti-eated of in the foregoing chapter, is implied in moral government; since by persons' behaviour under it, tlieir characters cannot but be manifested, and, if they behave well, improved. CHAPTER VI. 1 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, CONSIDERED AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. Throughout the foregoing Treatise it appears, that the coadition of mankind, considered as inhabitants of tliia * The analogy pursued in this treatise between the experienced constitution of nature and the expected dispensation taught by religion, suggests the fol- lowing question : — If the opinion of necessity be reconcilable with the for- mer, is it not also reconcilable with the latter ] To answer this hi/potheticcU question is the object of this chapter. But first an objection which, if valid, would subvert the very foundation of the whole treatise, must be answered. Butler's argument is throughout built on the assumption that there is an intelligent Author and Governor of nature ; but the Fatalist destroys the proof of this assumption, by asserting that necessity will itself account for the origin and preservation of all things. This question, then, must first be •khs freied ; upon the supposition that the opinion of necessity is reconcilable 102 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [ri. I world only, and under the government of God which we experience, is greatly analogous to our condition, as designed for anotlier 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 \\'ith the former, there immediately arises a question in the way of analogy, whetlier he must not also o\vn it to be i-econcilable with the latter, i. e., with the system of Religion itself and the proof of it. The reader then will obsei've that the question now before us is not absolute Whether the opinion of Fate be reconcilable with Religion ; but hypothetical, Whether, upon supposition of its being reconcilable with the constitution of Nature, it be not reconcilable with Religion also; or, what pretence a Fatalist, not other persons, but a Fatalist, has to conclude from his opmion that there can be no such thing as Religion. And as the puzzle and obscurity, which must unavoidably aiHse from ai'guing upon so absurd a suppo- sition 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 natm^al 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 Neces- sity 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, tliat a Fatality supposed consistent with what we certainly experience does not destroy the proof of an intelligent Author and Governor of Natm-e, before we proceed to consider whether it destroys the proof of a moral Governor of it, or of our bemg in a state of Religion K with the constitution of nature, does it destroy the proof of an intelligent Author and Grovernor of nature 1 — Ed. ' It is objected by a Fatalist, that theological writers speak of the ne- cessary existence of Grod. We reply that the reason of their so speaking lies in the scantiness of language, and that something very different from the Fatalist's notion is intended by it. To establish our answer, we must show — Ifltly, our conception of the necessary existence of God ; and 2ndly, how it differs from the opinion of the Fatalist. 1. When we are conscious of any idea in our minds, we intuitively discern that it luust be related to something external to itself as its archetype ; and Ctl. \^.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 168 Now, when it is said by a Fatalist, that the who.e consti- tution of Nature, and tlie actions of men, that eveiything, and every mode and circumstance of everytliing, is neces- saiy, and could not possibly have been otherwise ; it is to be observed, that this Necessity does not exclude delibera- tion, 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 eveiy moment be conscious of. And from hence it foUows 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 cir- cumstance relating to their origin and continuance, that they could not have been otherwise than they are and have been. The assertion that everything 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 fomiing 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 necessa- rily, or in that way and manner which we call freely. For 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 disputmg together and vindicating their respective opinions, and they should happen to instance in a house, they would agi'ee tliat it was built by an architect. Then' 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 coiiceraing the constitution of Nature, in a lax way of speaking one of them might say it was by Necessity, and the other by Freedom ; l)ut if they had any meaning to their hence we infer that it must exist in some other way besides its abstract shape, for every abstract implies a concrete. Now we have within us au idea of infinity; and we feel that this must imply some infinite Being cor- responding to it ,• and hence v/e conclude that there must necessarily be an infinite Being to whose existence design did not contribute, but was sule*- quent to it and excluded from it ; and hence arose the expression that ne- cessity is the account of the existence of God. 2. But this conception differs from that of the Fatalist; for this necessity is antecedent in nature to des'gn ; but it cannot be meant that everything exists by any such a necessity, for, in such a case, design could never alter nature, but we daily see that design does have that effect. — (Z>.) i84 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PT. 1 A)rds, 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 ne- cessary existence ', uncaused by any agent. For w^e find witliin 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 answer- ing this idea or the archetype of it. And from hence (for this abstract, as much as any otlier, implies a concrete) we £onclude that there is, and cannot but be, an infinite and immense eternal Bemg existing prior to all design contribu- cing to his existence and exclusive of it. And from the scan- tiness of language a manner of speaking has been intro- duced; 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 everything exists as it does by this kind of Necessity ; a Necessity antecedent in nature to design ; it caimot, I say, be meant that eveiytliing 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 m nature. For if any deny this, I shall not pretend to reason with them. From these things it follows : First, That w^hen a Fatalist asserts that everything is by Necessity he must mean by an Agent acting necessarily ; he must, I say, mean this, for I am veiy 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 ac- ' As to the meaning of necessary existence, logicians have long since determined that there are but two modes according to which any being can be said to exist, or to be what it is ; and these are contingency and necessity. Where the non-existence of a being is possible, that is, where we can, with- out a contradiction, suppose it not to exist, that being exists coydingently, or contingency is the mode of it' existence. But if there be any being who demonstrably mvjit exist, and whose non-existence is therefore impossible and inconceivable, that being exists necessarily, or necessity is the mode of its existence. But necessity zem in no sense be considered as the cause, or even as the ground or reason of any existence, or of any eflFect whatever. — Hami^ ivH OH the Existenn e/ God. {Ed.) CH. VI.J AS INFLUENCINa PRACTICE. 165 count for the formation of the world as for the structure of a house, and no more. Necessity as much I'equires and supposes a Necessaiy Agent, as Freedom requires and sup- poses a Free Agent to be the former of the world. And the appearances of design and of final causes in the constitution of nature as really prove this acting Agent to be an intelli- gent designer, or to act from choice upon the scheme of Ne- cessity, supposed possible, as upon that of Freedom. It appearing thus, that the notion of Necessity does not destroy the proof that there is an inteUigent Author of Nature and natm^al Governor of the world, the present question, which the analogy before mentioned suggests ', and which I think it will answer, is this ; Wliether the opinion of Ne- cessity supposed consistent with possibility, with the consti- tution of the world -, and the natural government which we experience exercised over it, destroys all reasonable gTound of behef that we are in a state of Keligion, or whether that opinion be reconcilable with religion, with the system, and the proof of it. Suppose, liien, a Fatalist to educate any one, from his youth up, in his own principles ' that the child should reason upon them and conclude that since he cannot possibly behave otherwise 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 Natm-e, and with regard to a future state I cannot 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 ' P. 161. ^ Fatalists are fond of inferring moral necessity from physical. Thus Voltaire in effect urges, that it would be very singular that all nature, all the planets, should obey eternal laws, and that there should be a little animal, five feet high, who, in contempt of these laws, could act as he pleased, Bolely according to his caprice. — (H.) ^ The absurdity of the Fatalist's theory is next shown from experience. The attempt to educate a child in such a system would end in his final ruiu" And we are but children in these things. — £1 r. 162. CH. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 167 instance, tliat if a man be destined to live such a time, he shall live to it, though he take no care of his own presei-va- tion ; or if he be destined to die before that time, no care can prevent it; tlierefore, all care about preserving ones life is to be neglected, which is the fallacy instanced in by the ancients. But now, on the contrary, none of these practical absurdities can be drawn from reasoning upon the supposition that we are free, but all such reasoning witli regard to the common affairs of life is justified by expe- rience. 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, deliberation, inclining one way, detennining, and at last doing as we determine, is as if we were free, there- fore we are so. But 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 al] consideration whether we are or not. Were this opinien therefore, of Necessity admitted to be ever so true, yet suck is in fact our condition and the natural course of things, that whenever we apply it to life and practice, this applica- tion of it 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 mis- lead 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 obligations, it is plain this conclu- sion cannot be depended upon. There will still remain just reason to think, whatever appearances are, that we deceive ourselves in somewhat of a like manner as wheii people fancy they can di^aw contradictory conclusions from tlie idea of infinity. From these things together, the attentive reader will see 168 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PT. I. it follows, that if upon supposition of Freedom the evidence of Religion be conclusive, it remains so, upon supposition of Necessity, because the notion of Necessity is not appli- cable to practical subjects : i. 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 prin- ciijles, which the Author of om' Nature gave us to act upon, and to pretend to apply our reason to subjects, wdth regard to which om* 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. But this is not all. For we find mthin om'selves a will, and are conscious of a character. Now, if this in us be re- concilable with Fate, it is reconcilable with it, in the Author of Nature. And besides, natural government and final causes imply a character and a will in the Governor and De- signer ^ ; a will concerning the creatm-es whom he governs. The Author of Nature then being certainly of some cha- racter or other, notwithstanding Necessity-; it is evident this Necessity is as reconcilable with the particular cha- racter of benevolence, veracity, and justice in him which attributes are the foundation of Religion, 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 supposition of Necessity becomes manifestly unjust'^; because it is punishment inflicted for domg that which persons could ' By tvill and character is meant that which, in speaking of men, we should express, not only by these words, but also by the words tevij^er, taste, dispositions, practical j^rijicijdes ; that ivhole frame of inind front whence we act in one manner rather than another. ^ Necessity, if it be reconcilable with anything, is reconcilable with that moral character of the great Author of Nature, which is the foundation of re- ligion — the character, namely, of benevolence, truth, and justice. — \W.) ^ The mention of justice here introduces a casual notice of the absurdity of the Fatalists, who deny the justice of a punishment, on the ground that the thing for which it is iniiicted was unavoidable, overlooking that the same necessity which justifies the crime justifies the punishment likewise; ana subsequently this remark is shown to have a direct bearing on the subject, by causing us to observe how the notions of justice and injustice still remain, even wliile we are putting forth theories destructive of them. — CD.) CK. VI j AS INFLUENCING FBACTICE. 169 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 pui-pose as this objection is in itself, it is ver^' much to tlie purpose to obsen'e 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 anything, is reconcilable with that character in the Author of Nature which is the foundation of Eeligion ; " Yet, does it not plainly destroy the proof that he is of that character, and consequently the proof of Ee ligion?" 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 con- sequences of it K We find God exercises the same kind of government over us, with that which a father exercises over his children, and a civil magistrate 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 creatm^es and his subjects. But as the doctrine of Liberty, though we experience its truth, may be perplexed with difiiculties which run up into the most abstruse of all speculations, and as the opi- nion of Necessity seems to be the veiy 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 Natm-e is not affected by the opinion of Necessity, sup- ' Ch. ii. ' Though arguments drawn tram the analogy of nature entirely refute the doctrine of Necessity, and though experience bears witness to the doctrine of Liberty, yet it is confessed that some theoretic difficulties remain. On this account, and because Necessity is the basis of infidel speculation, it is thought Uoeful to append a list of some of the obligatory proofs of religion which are in no way affected by it — (Z>.) 17 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [rr. I. posing Necessity a thing possible in itself and reconcilable with the constitution of things'. And it is a matter of fact, independent on this or any other speculation, that he governs the world by the method of rewards and punish- ments - ; and also that he hath given us a moral faculty by which we distinguish between actions, and approve some as virtuous and of good desert, and disapprove others as vicious and of ill deserts Now this moral discernment implies in tlie notion of it a rule of action, and a rule of a very peculiar kind ; for it caiTies 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 sanctions — may be thus proved. Consciousness of a rule or guide of action in creatm-es 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 Natm^e, given to creatures capable of looking upon it as such, is plainly a command from him ; and a command from him necessarily 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 contained in the moral discernment, renders the sanction explicit, and makes it appear, as one may say, expressed. For since his 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. Hnd his rewards be bestowed ; for he must have given us tliis discernment and sense of things as a presentiment of what is to be hereafter ; that is, by way of information be- forehand, what we are finally to expect in this world. There ' P. 162, &c. 2 ch^ ji^ 3 Dissert. II. ■• Serm. II. at the JioHs. * This moral faculty of which Butler speaks, namely conscience, implies a practical rule of a very peculiar nature, in that it is authoritative, (for we cannot disobey it without being self-condemned,) and as carrying with it its own sanction, (for the knowledge that we have such a rule exposes us to God's threats if we disobey it, and to His promises of reward if we listen to Its dictate.s) • Dissert. II. CH, VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 171 !S 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 tliat, in the upshot and issue of things, happiness and misery shall, in fact and event, be made to follow virtue and vice respectively, as he has already in so peculiar a manner associated 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 tliis moral government of God, and securing om* obedience to it, which yet is an extremely impei^^ect view of that most important duty. Now, I say, no objection from Necessity can lie against this general proof of Keligion? None against the pro- position reasoned 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 dra\vn from its appearing to us fit ' that he should, but from its appearing that he has told us he will. And this he hath certainly told us, in the promise and threatening which it hath been observed the notion of a command im- plies, and the sense of good and ill desert which he has given us more distinctly expresses. And this reasoning from fact is confinned, and in some degree even verified, by other facts, by the natural tendencies of virtue and ' However, I am far from intending to deny that the will of God is de- termined 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 intelligible to say, that it is fit and reasonable Jor every one to consult his own happiness, i\\en 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 approre 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 proposition to be true, without supposing somewhat prior in it to be the ground of the discernment. It doth not therefore appear that morai 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, than to speak of abstract truth aa thuj founded. 172 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PT. I. 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 Kehgion is un answerably real, even upon the "wild supposition which we ai'e arguing upon. It must likewise be observed fmlher, that natural Re- ligion 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 obsen^ations and reasoning above, or by any other, convinced of the trath of Religion, that there is a God who made the world, who is the moral Governor and Judge of mankmd, and will upon the whole deal with eveiy one according 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 natui'al for such a one to be inquisitive what was the histoiy 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 inquiiy 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 additional probability of its truth from the account of its discovery. But instead of tliis being the fact of the case, on the contrary, he would find what could not but afford him a very strong confirmation of its truth: First. That somewhat of this system, with more or fewer additions and alterations, hath been professed in all ages and comitries, of which we have any certain information relating to this matter. Secondly. That it is certain historical fact, so far as we can trace tilings 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 Religion, was re- ceived in the first ages. And Thirdly. That as there is no hint or intimation in history, that tliis system was first reasoned out ; so tliere is express historical or traditional evidence, as ancient as history, that it was tauglit first by revelation. Now these things must be allowed to be of great weight. The first of them, general consent, shows this system to » P. 121. ' P. 114, &c. OZ. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 173 be conformable to the common sense of mankind \ The second, namely, that Religion was believed in the first ages of the world, especially as it does not appear that there were then any superstitious or false additions to it, caimot but be a fmther confirmation of its tmth. For it is a proof of tliis alternative ; either that it came into the world by re- velation, or that it is natural, obvious, and forces itself upon the mind. The former of these is tne 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. Aiid as it is 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, I think, give any account which would appear more probable even to himself of the early pretences to revelation, than by sup- posing some real original one from whence they were copied. And the third thmg above mentioned, that there is express historical or traditional evidence as ancient as histoiy of the system 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 presumption? And this proof is mentioned here, because it has its weight to show, that Religion came mto the world by revelation, prior to all consideration of the proper authority of any book supposet' to contain it, and even prior to all consideration whether the revelation itself be uncoiiTiptly handed down and re- lated, or mixed and darkened with fables. Thus the his- torical 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 external evidence, even of natural Religion, is by no means inconsiderable. * The external evidence for religion is sumnoed up here into three heads : Istly, general consent; 2ndly, early belief; 3rdly, most ancient tradition. We should use a practical caution in these probable proofs of religion. As our reason is liable to prejudice, so is our moral discernment to perver- sion. And this should be a serious warning, again, as to our decisions with respect to religion, and particularly lest we substitute the world's fashions iu the place of that moral rule which God has given us. — (TT.) * Ch. ii- 1T4 OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, [PT, L But it is carefully to be obsen'ed, and ought to be recol- lected after all proofs of virtue and religion, which are onlj general, that as speculative reason may be neglected, preju- diced, and deceived, so also may our moral understanding be impaired and perverted, and the dictates of it not impar- tially 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 wc are to behave, and what we are to expect in consequence of our behaviour. Yet our liableness in the degree we are liable 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 determinations concerning virtue and religion, and par- ticularly not to take custom, and fashion, and slight notions of honour, or imaginations of present ease, use, and conve- nience to mankind, for the only moral rule '. The foregoing observations draAvn fi'om the nature of the thing and the history of Eeligion, 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 contraiy. But it may be said, " There are many proba- bilities which cannot indeed be confuted, i. e., shown to be no probabilities, and yet may be overbalanced by gi-eater probabilities on the other side ; much more by demonstra- tion. 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 meddling witli such arguments at all, but leaving them just as they are -'. 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 Necessar}' Agents. And it is incredible that the Author of Nature should govern us upon a suppo- sition as true which he knows to be false ^, and tlierefore * Dissert. II. 2 pp 73^ 75. ' Hume goes so far as to affirm that, though man in truth is a Necessary Agent, having all his actions fixed by determinate laws, yet, this being cnn« cealed from him, he acts with the conviction of being a Free Agent — (W.) But can such a position as thi« be luaintained without doiiig dishonour ta en. VI.] AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. 175 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 ; tliat tlie whole constitution and course of things, tlie whole analogy of providence shows beyond pofe sibility of doubt, that the conclusion from this reasoning is false, wherever the fallacy lies K The doctrine of freedom indeed clearly shows where, in supposing ourselves Neces- saiy, when in truth we are Free Agents. But upon the supposition of Necessity, tlie fallacy lies in taking for granted tliat it is incredible Necessaiy Agents should be rewarded and punished. But that somehow or other tlie conclusion now mentioned is false, is most certain^. For it is fact that God does govern even bmte creatures by the method of rewai'ds 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 natm-al instru- mentality of each other under the present conduct of Provi- dence. Nay, even the affection of gi^atitude, and the passion of resentment, and the rewards and pimishments following from them, which in general are to be considered as natural, i. e., from the Author of Nature ; these rewards and punish- ments being naturally * annexed to actions considered as implying good intention and good desert, ill intention and ill desert — these natinal rewards and punishments, I say, are as much a contradiction to the conclusion above, and show its falsehood, as a more exact and complete rewarding and <5od, by attributing to Him the governing us upon a supposition which he knows to be false ] Would it not be dishonouring our fellow-man to attribute to him such conduct without full proof] and is it a less dishonour to the God of truth, to Him who is the truth itself? Surely if we are treated by G-od as Free Agents, it is but right to conclude that we are such. — Ed. ' For even a number of arguments, which, taken severally, are confessedly inconclusive, when taken together, amount to a real practical proof of any moral point, and such a proof as cannot be set aside except by a counter- balance of probable arguments on the other side. — Ed. * The Fatalist argument may be stated in syllogistic form : Necessary Agents cannot be punished by God ; we are Necessaiy Agents ; therefore we cannot be punished by God. Now if we are Free Agents, the minor pre- raiss here is false ; if we are Necessary Agents, then the major is false j fur u a matter of fact we are punished and rewarded. * Serm. viii. at the R8lis. 176 NECESSITY, AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE. [PT. I. 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 necessaiy 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 ai'e /Jecessaiy Agents ; tiien there is notliing incredible in the further supposition of Necessaiy Agents being thus re- warded and punished, since we om-selves are thus dealt with. From the whole, therefore, 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 confonnable to the title of the chapter, tlie analogy of nature shows us that the opinion of Necessity, considered as practical, is false. And if Necessity, upon the supposition above men- tioned, doth not destroy the proof of natural Eeligion, 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 opinion of Necessity is essentially destructive of all religion. First, in a practical sense, that by this notion atheistical men pretend to satisfy and encom^age themselves in ^'ice, and justify to others their disregard to all religion. And secondly, in the stiictest sense, that it is a contradiction to the whole con- stitution of natm-e, and to what we may eveiy moment experience in ourselves, and so overturns eveiything. But by no means is this assertion to be understood as if Neces- sity, supposing it could possibly be reconciled with the con- stitution of things and vnih what we experience, were not also reconcilable with Eeligion, for upon tliis sappositiou it demonstrably is s^. 177 CHAPTER VIL OF TliE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, CONSIDERED AS A SCHEMK 01 CONSTITUTION, IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENKED. Though it be, as it cannot but be, acknowledged that die analog}' of natui-e gives a strong credibility to the general doctiine 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 maybe insisted upon agamst 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 ^ For the credibility or the certain truth of a matter of fact does not immediately prove anything concerning the wisdom or good- ness of it; and analogy can do no more, immediately or dkectly, 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 nialves it credible that this government must be a scheme, system, or constitution of government, as distinguished from a number of single unconnected acts of distributive justice and good- ness, and likewise 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 seiwice in answering those objections, both by suggest- ing the answer and showing it to be a credible one. ' In chap. ill. objections were urged against the fact of God's moral government in respect of rewards and punishments, and they were directly answered from analogy by showing that the seeds, as it were, of a moral government, are discernible in the world around us. But objections may be raised, not onlj' against the fact of God's moral government, but also against \\.'S, perfect raoral character . Admitting that gove^rnment as a. fact, it still may be urged that it is not wise, just, and good. Can analogy answer such an objection 1 Not directly, indeed, but indirectly, by suggesting as the propei answer our present inperfect comprehension of so vast a scheme. Tw« arguments are urged in support of this position : the one drawn from th« general analogy existing between God's natural and moral governments ; tk other from ^particular pointa of analogy between them. — Ed. N 178 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, , [PT. L Now this, upon inquiry, will be found to be the case. For, First, Upon supposition tliat God exercises a mora! 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 compre- hension ; and this affords a general answer to all objections against tlie justice and goodness of it. And, Secondly, A more distinct observation of some particular things con- tained in God's scheme of natural government, the like things being supposed, by analogy, to be contained in his moral government, will fmther show how little weight is to be laid upon these objections. I. Upon supposition that God exercises a moral govern- ment over the world, the analogy of his natural government suggests and makes it credible that his moral goveiTtment 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 die world, and the whole natm-al government of it, appears to be so ; to be a scheme, system, or constitution, whose parts con^espond to each other, and to a whole, as really as any work of art, or as any particular model of a civil constitution and government. In this great scheme of the natm-al world individuals have various peculiar relations to other indi- viduals of then own species. And whole species are, we find, variously related to other species upon this eai^th. Nor do we know how much further these kinds of relations may extend. And, as there is not any action or natural event which we are acquainted with so single and im- connected 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, natm^al relation to other actions and events much beyond the compass of tliis present world. There seems indeed notliing from whence we can 60 much as make a conjectm-e whether all creatures, actions, and events, throughout the whole of nature have relations to each other. But as it is obvious that all events have ' This argument was evidently a favourite mstruraent in the hands of Butler ; he draws it out at greater length in Semi. xv. upon the " Ignorance af Msit" CH. VII. J A SCHEME INCOMPEEIIENSIRLE. 179 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 furtlier it nature unknown to us, somewhat both past and present, such event could not possibly have been at all. Nor can we give the whole accomit of any one thing whatever ; of all its causes, ends, and necessaiy adjuncts, those adjuncts, I mean, without which it could not have been. By this most astonishing connection, these reciprocal correspond- ences and mutual relations, everything which we see in the course of nature is actually brought about. And things seemingly the most insignificant imaginable are perpetually obsei-ved to be necessary 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 govern ment of it, being such an incomprehensible scheme, so in- comprehensible 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 v/orld and government of it may be so too. Indeed the natm-al and moral constitution 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 or- ganized bodies for minds'. But the thing intended here is. without inquiring how far the administration of the natural world is suboixlinate to that of the moral, only to obseiTe the credibility that one should be analogous or similar to the other; that tlierefore 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 eveiy circumstance of this his moral ' There is no manner of absurdity in supposing a veil, on purpose, ArawK over some scenes of infinite power, wisdom, and goodness, the sight oi which might, some way or other, strike us too strongly ; or that better ends are designed and served by their being concealed, than could be by their being exposed to our knowledge. The Almighty may cast clo\jds and daiknesa round about Him for reasons and purposes of which we have not the least glimpae or concepion. — Butlers Sermon xv. (Ed.) N 2 180 THE GOVERNMF.NT OF GOD, j"PT. I. 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 vinue is to remain in a state of warfare and discipline, and in which wickedness is permitted to have its progress ; the times appointed for the execution of justice, tiie appointed instru- ments of it, the kinds of rewards and punishments, and the manners of their distribution ; all particular instances of divine justice and goodness, and every circumstance of them, may have such respects to each other as to make up altogether a whole, connected and related in all its parts ; a scheme or system, which is as properly one as the natura. 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 om' view in the present life, and tlierefore no objections against any of these parts can be insisted upon by reasonable men. This our ignorance, and tlie consequence here dra^Ti from it, are universally acknowledged upon other occasions, and though scarce denied, yet are universally forgot when persons come to argue against Religion. And it is not perhaps easy, even for the most reasonable men, always to bear in mind the degi-ee of om- ignorance, and make due allowances for it. Upon these accounts it may not be use- less to go on a little fmiJier, in order to show more dis- tinctly how just an answer om^ ignorance is to objections against the scheme of Providence. Suppose, then, a person boldly to assert tliat the things complained of, the origin and continuance of evil, might easily have been prevented by repeated interpositions ' ; inteipositions so guarded and circumstanced as would preclude all mischief arising from tliem ; or, if this were impracticable, that a scheme of govern- ment 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, because these would have occasioned no irregularities. And fai'ther than this, it is presumed, the objections will not be carried. Yet the answer is obvious ; that were these assertions tnie, still the observations above, concerning our ignorance in the scheme of divine govern • Pp. 183, 184. CH. VII ] A SCHEME INCOMPIIEHENSIBI^E. 181 ment and the consequence irav/n from it, would hold in great measui-e, 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, tliey would infer nothing more than that it might have been better. But indeed they are mere arbitrary assertions ; no man being sufficiently acquainted with the possibilities of things, to bring any proof of them to the lowest degree of probability. For 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-contradictions, which not every one by any means would perceive to be such, nor perhaps any one at first sight suspect. From these things it is easy to see distinctly how our ignorance, as it is the common, is really a satisfactory answer to all objections agninst 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 . ai-e unacquainted with what is, in the nature of the thing, practicable in the case before us, then our ignorance is a satisfactoiy answer, because some unknown relation, or some unknown impossibility, may render what is objected against just and good ; nay, good in the highest practicable degree. II. And how little weight is to be laid upon such objec- tions will further appear by a more distinct observation of some particular things contained in the natural govem- ment of God, the like to which may be supposed, from 'Wialogy, to be contained in his moral government. First. As in the scheme of the natural world, no ends appear 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 182 THE GOVEKNMENT OF GOP, [PT. I. means ai'e conducive to such ends, it is not reasons but ex- perience which shows us that they are thus conducive. Experience also shows many means to be conducive and necessary to accompUsh ends, which means, before expe- rience, we should have thought would have had even a con- trary tendency. Now from these obsei-vations relating to the natural scheme of the world, the moral being supposed analogous to it. arises a gi^eat credibility that the putting om- miseiy 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 tliose things which are objected against the moral scheme of Providence, may be, upon the whole, friendly and assistant to virtue, and productive of an over- balance of happiness; i. e., the things objected against may be means by which an overbalance of good will, in the end, be found produced; and from the same obsei-vations, it appears to be no presumption against this, that w^e 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 natm-e from whence we are capable of vice and miseiy may, as it un- doubtedly does, contribute to the perfection and happiness of the world ; and though the actual permission of evil may be beneficial to it (i. e., it would have been more mis- chievous, 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, notwith- standing, it might have been much better for the world il' this veiy evil had never been done. Nay, it is most cleaiiy conceivable, that the very commission of wickedness may be beneficial 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 tlie natm-al world, there arc disorders which bring their own cm-es ; diseases which are themselves remedies. Miuty a man would have died^ en. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPBEHENSIBLE. 183 had it not, been for the gout or a fever ; yet it would be thought madness to assert that sicloiess is a better or more perfect state tlian health ; though the hke, with regard to tlie moral world, has been asserted. But, Secondly. The natm^al government of the world is carried on by geneial laws. For this there may be wise and good reasons ; tlie wisest and best, for aught we know to the con- trai-y. And that there ai^e such reasons is suggested to our thoughts by the analogy of natm^e ; by om- being made to 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 scai'ce any kind of enjoyments, but what we ai-e, in some way or other, instrumental in procuring our- selves, by acting in a manner which we foresee likely to procm^e them ; now this foresight could not be at aU, were not the government of the world carried on by general laws. And though, for aught we know to the contraiy, every single case may be, at length, found to have been provided 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 natm^e of things ; as we see it is absolutely 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 intei^ositions to prevent irregularities, 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 ver}' different from a right to claim, that all irregularities were prevented or remedied by present interpositions, if these intei7)Ositions would have 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 lule of life, which is ascertained by this very thing, that the course of the world is carried on by general laws. And further, it is certain they would have distant effects, and very great ones too, by means of the wonderful connections before mentioned ' ; so tliat we cannot so much as guess what would be the whole result of the interpositions desired » P. 179, &a 184 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PT. L It may be said, any bad result might be prevented by further interpositions whenever there was occasion for them ; but this again is talking quite at random, and in the dai'k \ 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 gi'ound to believe that all in^egularities 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 ihan they would produce. And if this be the case, then the not intei'posing is so far from being a groimd of com- plaint, that it is an instance of goodness. This is intelli- gible and sufl&cient; and going further seems beyond the utmost reach of om' faculties. But it may be said, that " after all, these supposed im- possibilities and relations are what we are unacquainted with ; and we must judge of Eeligion, as of other things, by what we do know, and look upon the rest as nothing ; or, however, that tlie answers here given to what is objected against Eeligion may equally be made use of to invalidate the proof of it, since their stress lies so veiy much upon our ignorance.'" But, First. 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 degi'ee be convinced that a person is of such a character, 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, objections 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 invalidated by it. Thus the proof of Eeligion 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 according to his deserts ; a proof that this is the designed end of his ' P. 181. CH. \ll.] A SCHEliJE INCOMPKEHENSIBLE, 185 government. But we are not competent judges what is the proper way of acting in order the most effectually to ac- complish tliis end \ Therefore our ignorance is an answer to objections against the conduct of Providence, in permit- ting iiTegularities, as seeming contradictory to this end. Now, since it is so obvious that our ignorance may be a satisfactoiy answer to objections against a thing, and yet not affect the proof of it, till it can be sho-svn, it is frivolous to assert, that our ignorance invalidates the proof of Religion, as it does the objections against it. Secondly. Suppose unknown impossibihties, and imknown relations, might justly be urged to invalidate the proof of Religion, 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 consequences 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 considerations 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 wiU; and this credibility is a certain-^ obligation 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 Rehgion cannot equally be made use of to inva- lidate the proof of it. For. upon suspicion that God exer- cises a moral government over the world, analogy does most sti'ongly lead us to conclude that this moral government » P. 76. 2 Even if arguing upon our ignorance did invalidate the proof of God's moral government, still there would remain certain moral obligations which would lead us to believe it to be a fact, and there would be certain con- siderations of interest besides. — Ed. ^ P. 73, and Part ii. chap. vi. * The argument from ignorance, however, cannot be equally adduced to invalidate the proof of God's moral government, as it can to overthrow objeo tions against it, for it is not applicable in the one case as in the other. — Ed. 186 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD TNCOMPKEHENSIBLE. [?T. I must be a sclieme, or constitution, beyond our comprehen- Bion. And a thousand particular 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 preven And therefore all these analogies show that the way o* arguing made use of in objecting against Religion is delu- sive ; because they show it is not at all incredible that, could we comprehend the whole, we should find the per- mission 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 Eeligion, as it is to the objections against it', and therefore cannot invalidate that proof, as it does these objections. Lastly. From the observation now made, it is easy to see that the answers above given to the objections against Pro- vidence, though, in a general way of speaking, they may be said to be taken from om- ignorance ; yet are by no means taken merely from that, but from somewhat which analogy shows us concerning it. For analogy shows us positively, that our ignorance in the possibilities of tilings, 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 relations, but they are sug- gested to our thoughts, and even forced upon the obsen-a- tion of serious men, and rendered credible too, by the analogy of natm-e. 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-. ' Serm. at the Rolls. 2 The answers to objections above are not drawn in reality from our ignorance, but from something positive which analogy shows us concerning it; namely, that we are incompetent judges of a divine scheme. Hence, to proceed upon a confession of this our incompetency is not to proceed upoy ignorance, but upon knowledge. —(ff'.) 187 CONCLUSION The observations of the last Chapter lead us u) 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 things. Whether we are any way related to the more distant parts of the boundless miiverso 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 somewhat past, present, and futm-e, beyond it'. So that we are placed, as one may speak, in the middle of a scheme, not a fixed but a progi^essive one, every way incomprehensible; incomprehensible in a manner equally with respect to what has been, what now is, and what shall be hereafter And this scheme cannot bu; contain in it somewhat as wonderful, and as much beyond om- thought and conception-, as anything in tliat of Eeligion. For will any man in his senses say that it is less difficult to conceive how the world came to be and to con- tinue as it is without than with an intelligent Author and Governor of it*? or admitting an inteUigent Governor of it, that there is some other rule of government more natural and of easier conception 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 earned on as it is ; nor any of its general end and design, without a moral Governor of it. That there is an intelligent Author of Nature and natural Gover- nor of the world is a principle gone upon in the foregoing treatise as proved, and generally loiown and confessed to be proved. And the very notion of an intelligent Author of Nature proved by particular final causes, imphes a will ' P. 178, &c. ' See Part ii. ch. ii. ^ The religious mind of Herodotus, which saw God in everything around him, is constantly inferring that nature exhibits marks of design, and theso imply to him an intelligent Author of Nature. Thus, in iii., 108, oe in- stances, as a proof of the -r^evoia of Nature, or of Nature's Author, the Deity, the fact that ravenous beasts are comparatively rare and have but few young at a birth, while the opposite is the case with the tanie creatures. But it is clear that the induction of particular instances might be multiplied till it becomes as wide as nature itself. 188 CONCLUSION. [PT, I. and a cliaraa:3r^ Now as our whole nature, the nature which he has given us, leads us to conclude his will and cha- racter to be moral, just, and good; so we can scarce in imagination conceive what it can be otherwise. However, in consequence of this his will and character, whatever it be, he formed the universe as it is, and carries on the ••ourse of it as he does rather than in any other manner, and has assigned to us and to all living creatures a part and a lot in it. Irrational creatures act this their part, and enjoy and undergo the pleasm^es and the pains allotted them without any reflection. But one would think it impossible that creatures endued with reason could avoid railecting 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 ourselves 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 contiyiue- 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 om^selves, which is contrary to experience. Experience too most clearly shows us the folly of concluding from tlie body and the living agent affecting each other mutually, that the dissolu- tion of the former is tlie destruction of the latter. An I there are remarkable instances of their not affecting each other, which lead us to a contrary conclusion. The suppo sition, 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 certain, opens an un- bounded pre «pect to our hopes and our fears ; since we see tho » P. 168. PT. I.] CONCLUSION. 189 constitution of nature is such as to admit of miseiy as *vell as to be productive of happiness, and experience ourse.ves to partake of both in some degree, and since we cannot but know what higher degrees of both we are capable of. And there is no presumption against beheving further that our future interest depends upon our present behaviour ; for we see om' present interest doth, and that the happiness and miseiy which are naturally annexed to our actions, very fre- quently do not follow till long after the actions are done, to which they are respectively annexed. So that were specu- lation to leave us uncertain, whether it were likely that the AuUior of Nature in giving happiness and misery to his crea- tures 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 ■Nvithout any elaborate inquiries to think that it may, indeed must be to good actions chiefly that he hath annexed happi- ness, and to bad actions misery, or that he will upon tlie whole reward those who do well, and punish those who do evil. To confirm this from the constitution of the world, it has been obsei-ved that some sort of moral government is necessarily implied in that natural government of God which we experience ourselves under; that good and bad actions at present are natm^ally rewarded and punished, not only as beneficial and mischievous to society, but also as virtuous and vicious ; and that there is in the very nature of tlie thmg, 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 tlius points out and leads towards is prevented for a time from taking place, it is by obstacles which the state of this world unhappily thi'ows in its way, and which therefore are in tlieir nature temporaiy. Now, as these things in the natural conduct of Providence are obsei'vable 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 execu- tion; and this, together with the essential tendencies of virtue and vice duly considered, naturally raise in us ai: apprehension that it will be carried on further towards per- fection in a future state, and that eveiy one shall tliere re ceive accordinsj to his deserts. And if this be so, then jui 190 rONCLUSION. [PT. I future and general interest, under the moral government of God, is appointed to depend upon om- behaviour, notwith- standing the difficulty which this may occasion of securing it, and the danger of losing it ; just in the same manner as our temporal interest, under his natural government, is ap- pointed to depend upon our behaviom-, notwithstandmg the like difficulty and danger. For, from our original constitu- tion, and that of the world which we inhabit, we are naturally trusted with om"selves, 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 temptations to be unfaithful in this trust ; to forfeit this interest, to neglect it, and run our- selves into misery and ruin. From these temptations arise the difficulties of behaving so as to secure our temporal interest, and tlie hazard of behaving so as to miscany 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 condition as this, must be beyond our compre- hension ; 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 eveiy 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 cha- racter. Now tliis intention of nature is rendered highly credible by obsei-ving tliat we are plainly made for improve- ment of all kinds ; that it is a general appointment of Pro- vidence that we cultivate practical principles, and form within ourselves habits of action in order to become fit for what we were wholly mifit for before ; that, in particular, childhood and youth is naturally appointed to be a state ol discipline for mature age ; and that the present world is peculiarly fitted for a state of moral discipline ; and, whereas objections are urged against tlie whole notion of moral government and a probationaiy state from the opinion of Necessity, it has been shown that God has given us tlie evidence, as it were, of experience, that all obiections PT. 1.] CONCLUSrON 191 against Eeligion on this head are vain and delusive. He has also, in his natm-al government, suggested an answer to all our short-sighted ohjections against tlie equity and goodiess of his moral government, and in general he has exemphfied to us tlie latter by the former. These things, which, it is to be remembered, ajre matters of fact, ought in all common sense to awaken mankind, to induce them to consider in earnest then condition, and what they have to do. It is absurd, absurd to the degi^ee of being ridiculous, if the subject were not of so serious a kind, for men to thmk themselves secm^e in a vicious lil'e, or even in that immoral thoughtlessness, which far tlie greater t part of them are fallen into. And the credibility of Keli gion, arising from experience and facts here considered, is fully sufficient in reason to engage tliem to live in the general practice of all virtue and piety, under the serious apprehen- sion, though it should be mixed witli some doubt S of a righteous administration established in nature, and a future judgment in consequence of it; especially when we con- sider how very questionable it is whether anything at all can be gained by vice-, how unquestionably little as well as precarious the pleasm-es and profits of it ai-e at the best, and how soon tliey must be parted with at the longest. For in the deliberations of reason concerning what we are to pm'- sue and what to avoid, as temptations to anythmg from mere passion are supposed out of the case, so inducements to vice from cool expectations of pleasm-e and interest so small and uncertain and short are really so insignificant, as in tlie view of reason to be almost nothing in themselves, and in comparison with tlie importance of Keligion they quite disappear and are lost. Mere passion indeed may be alleged, tliough not as a reason, yet as an excuse for a vicious course of life. And how sorry an excuse it is will be mani- fest by obsei^ing that we are placed in a condition in which we ai^e miavoidably inm-ed 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 m the ordinary course of things require. The plea of ungovernable passion, then, on th^ side of vice is the poorest of all thmgs ; for it is no reason and but a poor excuse. But the proper motives to ' Part ii. ch. vi. ^ P. 112. 192 CONCLUSION. [PT. I religion are tlie proper proofs ^ of it from our moral nature, from the presages of conscience, and our natural apprehen- sion 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 Gos- pel; and the wrath of God revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men. ' St. Paul commences his Epistle to the Romans with the professed ac- knowledgment, or rather the authoritative assertion, of the two great evidences of natural religion — the one legible in the book of the creation, the other indigenous in the soul of man. This latter is the moral con- stitution of our souls, which is the transcript, obscured and defaced indeed, but still the transcript, of the great law of God ; that law which the very- heathen know, and cannot avoid knowing, because " they have the work of it written in their hearts," and their thoughts " accusing or excusing " them by its dictates. And when St. Paul charges the Gentiles with the know- ledge of this law, it is such a knowledge as, in his mind, was sufficient to bring them under the capacity and consequent obligation of some obedience ; otherwise his whole doctrine and inculcation of that law, as subjecting thera to judgment, would be a lifeless argument. — Davison on Primitive Sacri- fice. {Ed.) END OF THE FIRST PART. THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION PART II. OF EEYEALED EELIGION. CHAPTER I. Some persons, upon pretence of the sufficiency of the hght of nature, avowedly reject all revelation, as in its veiy notion incredible, and what must be fictitious. And indeed it is certain no revelation would have been given, had the light of nature been sufficient in such a sense as to render one not wanting and useless -. But no man, in seriousness and ' An inquiry into the importance of Christianity is obviously a proper introduction to a treatise on its credibility. There are, moreover, two classes of persons who require to have this proved to them. Some avowedly reject all revelation, as in its very notion incredible ; while others neglect or over- look it, without examining its evidence, without indeed rejecting it, and even upon supposition of its truth. The ground, both of rejection and neglect, is the assumed sufficiency of the light of nature ; and against both it is maintained that the light of nature has been proved insufficient by the state of religion among heathens, whether before or after revelation ; by the doubts which the greatest men have entertained on things of the utmost moment ; by the natural inattention and ignorance of mankind in general, who neither could nor would reason out natural religion ; by the need felt even by th*^ better sort of supernatural instruction and assistance. Now, on a first and general view, this may be said : — If God has given us a reve- lation, it must be important, unless we are assured (as we cannot be, for our ignorance proves nothing) that all the reasons for it have ceased. — {W.) - That the principles of natural religion have come to be so far under- stood and admitted as they are, may fairly be taken for one of the effects of the gospel revelation ; a proof of its actual influence on opinions at the least, instead of a disproof of its necessity or use. — Davison on Prophecy. {Ed.) O 194 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PT. II. simplicity of mind, can possibly think it so, who considers the state of Religion in the heathen world before revelation, and its present state in those places which have boiTOwed no light from it ; particularly the doubtfulness of some of the greatest men concerning things of the utmost import- jmce, as well as the natural inattention and ignorance of mankind in general. It is impossible to say who would have been able to have reasoned out that whole system, which we call natm^al religion, in its genuine simplicity, clear of superstition; but there is certainly no ground to affii-m that the generality could. If they could, there is no sort of probability that they would. Admitting there were, they would highly want a standing admonition to remind tliem of it, and inculcate it upon them. And further still, were tliey as much disposed to attend to religion as the better sort of men are, yet even upon this supposition there would be various occasions for super- natural instruction and assistance ^ and the greatest ad- vantages might be afforded by them. So that to say revela- tion is a thing superfluous, what there was no need of, and what can be of no service, is, I think, to talk quite wildly and at random. Nor would it be more extravagant to affirm, that mankind is so entirely at ease in the present state, and life so completely happy, that it is a contradiction to suppose our condition capable of being in any respect better. There are other persons, not to be ranked with these, who seem to be getting into a way of neglecting and, as it were, overlooking revelation as of small importance, pro- vided natural Religion be kept to. With little regard either to the evidence of the fonner, or to the objections against it, and even upon supposition of its truth ; " the only design of it," say they, " must be, to establish a belief of the moral system of nature, and to enforce the practice of natural piety and virtue. The belief and practice of these tilings • Even admitting that the heathens of the better sort did not want the power or the inclination to reason out the principles of natural religion clear of superstition, and so might have partly found it out for themselves; still re- velation might even then be required to aid their reasonings, and might atford them the greatest assistance and advantage. Socrates, Plato, Confucius, and other bright lights of antiquity, have given their authority to the necessitj and the anterior probability of a revelation from God. — Ed, CH. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 195 \vere, perhaps, much promoted by the first publication ol Christianity ; but whether they are beUeved and practised, upon the evidence and motives of nature or of revelation, is no gi-eat matter."^ This way of considering revelation, though it is not the same with the former, yet borders nearly upon it, and very much, at length, runs up into it, and requires to be particularly considered with regard to the persons who seem to be getting into this way. The con- sideration of it will likewise further show the extravagance of tlie former opinion, and the tmth of the obseiwations in answer to it just mentioned. And an inquiiy into the im- portance of Christianity cannot be an improper introduc- tion to a treatise concerning the credibility of it. Now if God has given a revelation to mankind, and com- manded tiiose things which are commanded in Christianity, it is evident, at first sight, that it cannot in any wise be an indifferent matter, whether we obey or disobey those com- mands ; unless we are certainly assm^ed that we know all tlie reasons for them, and that all those reasons are now ceased with regard to mankind in general, or to ourselves in particular. And it is absolutely impossible we can be as- sured of this. For om' ignorance of these reasons proves nothing in the case ; since the whole analogy of nature shows, what is indeed in itself evident, that there may be infinite reasons for things with which we are not acquainted. But the importance of Christianity wUl more distinctly appear by considering it more distinctly : First, as a repub- lication and external institution of natural or essential Reli- gion, adapted to the present circumstances of mankind, and mtended to promote natm-al piety and virtue ; and Secondly, as containing an accoimt of a dispensation of things not discoverable by reason, in consequence of which several distinct precepts are enjoined us. For though natm-al Pt(3li- gion is the foundation and principal part of Christianity, it is not in any sense the whole of it. ' Invenis multos propterea nolle fieri Christianos, quia quaw Bufficiunt sibi de bona vita sua. Bene vivere opus est, ait. Quid niihi praecepturus est Christus ? Ut bene vivam ? Jam bene vivo. Quid mihi ne- cessarius est Christus ] Nullum homicidium, nullum furtum, nullam rapinant facio, res alienas non concupisco, nuUo adulterio contaminor? Nam inve- niatur in vita mea aliquid quod reprehendatur, et qui reprehenderit faciat Ghristianum. — Aug. in Fsal. xxxi. 2 196 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PT. n. I. Christianity is a republication of natural Religion ^ It instructs mankind in tlie moral system of the world: that it is the work of an infinitely perfect Being, and under his government, that virtue is his law, and that he will finally judge mankind in righteousness, and render to all according to their works in a futm-e state ; and, which is very material . it teaches natural Religion in its genuine simplicity, free from those superstitions with which it was totally corrupted, and under which it was in a manner lost. Revelation is further an authoritative publication of natu- ral Religion, and so affords the e\ddence of testimony for the truth of it. Indeed the miracles and prophecies r^ corded in Scripture were intended to prove a paiticuiar dispensation of Providence, the redemption of the world by the Messiah ; but this does not hinder but tliat they may also prove God's general providence over the world as our moral Governor and Judge. And they evidently do p-ove it, because this character of the Author of Nature is neces- sarily connected with and implied in that particular revealed dispensation of thmgs; it is likewise continually taaj;hr expressly and insisted upon by those persons who wruughi the miracles and delivered the prophecies. So that mde^d natural Religion seems as much proved by the Scripture revelation as it would have been had the design of revela- tion been nothing else than to prove it. But it may possibly be disputed how far miracles can prove natural Religion, and notable objections maybe urged against this proof of it, considered as a matter of speculation ; but considered as a practical thing there can be none '^. For ' Christianity is indeed a republication of natural religion in the genuine simplicity of its leading doctrines, such as the existence of God, his cha- racter as a natural and a moral governor. It is all this ; but at the same time it is something much higher also ; it is an authontative republication of natural religion with new proofs from miracles and prophecy; which, while they are the direct evidence of revealed religion, are also an additional evidence of natural religion. — Ed. It has been admitted by infidels that Ohnstianity is a republication of the law of nature ; but they deny that there are any advantages arising ou* of this republication. So that, if they do not themselves draw the conclu- sion, they leave us to infer that Christianity is useless. The latter is the method and design of the author of "Christianity as old as the Cre&. tion."— (//.) * Miracles not only contain a new demonstration of God's existence, out strengthen the proofs it draws from the frame of the world, and clear tiea CH. I.] OF CHRISTIAT^ITY. 197 suppose a person to teach natural Keligion to a nation who had hved in total ignorance or forgetfulness of it, and to ileclai'e ha was commissioned by God so to do: suppose him, in proof of his commission, to foretell things future which no human foresight could have guessed at ; to divide 'die sea with a word ; feed great multitudes with bread from heaven ; cure all manner of diseases ; and raise the dead, even himself, to life : would not this give additional credi- bility to his teachmg, a credibility beyond what that of a common man would have, and be an authoritative publica- tion of the law of nature, i. e., a new proof of it? It would be a practical one of the strongest kind, perhaps, which human creatures are capable of having given them. The Law of Moses then, and the Gospel of Christ, are autho- ritative publications of the religion of nature ; they af- ford a proof of God's general providence as Governor of the world, as well as of his particular dispensations of pro- vidence towards sinful creatures revealed in the Law and the Gospel. As they are the only e\ddence of the latter, so they are an additional evidence of the foraier. To show this furtlier, let us suppose a man of the greatest and most improved capacity, who had never heai'd of reve- lation, convinced upon the whole, notwithstanding the dis- orders of the world, that it was under the direction and moral government of an infinitely-perfect Being ; but ready to question whether he were not got beyond the reach of his faculties : suppose him, brought by this suspicion, into gi^eat dauger of being carried away by the miiversal bad example ol almost every one around him, who appeared to have no sense, no practical sense at least, of these things ; and this, perhaps, would be as advantageous a situation with regard to Eeligion, as natm-e alone ever placed any man in. What a confimia- tion now must it be to such a person all at once to find that this moral system of things was revealed to mankind in the name of that infinite Being whom he had from prin- ciples of reason believed in ; and that the publishers of the revelation proved their commission from him by making it appear that he had entrusted them with a power of suspend ing and changing the general laws of natm-e. from the two principal objections of atheism; viz., either that the world !• eternal, or that it owes its existence to a fortuitous concourse of atoms. — (H.) Bee Farmer on Miraclei, 198 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PT. IL Nor must it by any means be omitted, for it is a thing of the utmost importance, that hfe and immortahty are emi- nently brought to light by the Gospel. The great doctrines of a futm-e state, the danger of a course of wickedness, and the efficacy of repentance, are not only confirmed in thtj Gospel, but are taught, especially the last is, with a degree of light to which that of natm^e is but darkness. Frnther : As Christianity served these ends and pur- poses when it was first published by the mhaculous publica cation itself ; so it was intended to serve the same purposes in future ages by means of the settlement of a visible church : of a society distinguished from common ones, and from the rest of the world, by peculiar religious institutions ; by an instituted method of instruction, and an instituted form of external Religion. Miraculous powers were given to the first preachers of Christianity, in order to their intro- ducing it into the world : a visible church was established, in order to continue it and carry it on successively throughout all agesK Had Moses and the Prophets, Christ and his Apostles, only taught, and by miracles proved Religion to their contemporaries, the benefits of their insti-uctions would have reached but to a small part of mankind. Christianity must have been in a great degree sunk and for- got in a very few ages. To prevent this appears to have been one reason why a visible church was instituted ; to be like a city upon a hill, a standing memorial to the world of tlie duty which we owe our Maker ; to call men continually both by example and instruction to attend to it, and by the form of Religion ever before their eyes remind tliem of the reality ; to be the repository of the oracles of God ; to hold up the light of revelation in aid to that of nature, and propagate it throughout all generations to the end of the world — the hght of revelation, considered here in no other ' Compare Pearson on the Creed (Art. ix.) : — " The necessity of believing the holy Catholic Church appeareth first in this, that Christ hath appointed it as the only way unto eternal life. We read at the first that * the Lord added to the church daily such as should be saved.' — (Acts ii, 47.) And what vv-as then daily done, hath been done since continually. Christ neve, appointed two ways to heaven ; nor did he build a church to save some, an« make another institution for other men's salvation. ' There is none othet name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved, but th« name of Jesus.' — (Acts iv. 12.) And that name is no otherwise given umlei heaven than in the church." {Ed.) CH. r.J OF CHRISTIANITY. 199 view, than as designed to enforce natural Keligi)r> And in proportion as Cliristianity is professed and taxight ii? tiie world, Eeligion, natural or essential Eeligion, is thna distinctly and advantageously laid before mankind, and brought again and again to their thoughts as a matter or infinite importance. A visible church ' has also a further tendency to promote natural Religion, as being an insti- tuted method of education, originally intended to be of more peculiar advantage to those who confomi to it. For one end of the institution was, that by admonition and reproof, as well as instruction ; by a general regular disci- pline, and public exercises of religion, the body of Christ, as the Scripture speaks, should be edified, i. e., trained up in piety and virtue for a higher and better state. This settlement, then, appearing thus beneficial, tending in the nature of the thing to answer, and in some degree actually answering, those ends ; it is to be remembered, that the very notion of it implies positive institutions, for the visibility of the church consists in them"-. Take away eveiything of this kind, and you lose the very notion itself So that if the things now mentioned are advan tages, the reason and importance of positive institutions in general is most obvious, since without them these ad- vantages could not be secured to the world. And it is mere idle wantonness to insist upon knowing the reasons why such particular ones were fixed upon rather than others. The benefit arising from this supernatural assistance, which Christianity affords to natural Religion, is what some persons are veiy slow in apprehending. And yet it is a thing distinct in itself, and a very plain obvious one For will any in good earnest really say, that the bulk of ' The visibility of the church consists in its positive institutions, and the advantages of a visible church show the reason and importance of positiv« institutions in general. The reasons for the preference given in th« Christian church to certain particular positive institutions over others, it is idle and wanton to inquire. — {^V.) ^ From these things appears the weakness of all pleas for neglecting the public service of the church. For though a man prays with as much devo- tion and less interruption at home, and reads better sermons there, yet that will by no means excuse the neglect of his appointed part in keeping up the piafession of Christianity among mankind. This neglect, were it universal, must be the dissolution of the whole visible church. — Butters Sermon l^ou the Society for the Propagation qf the Gospel. {Ed.) 200 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PT. IL mankind in the heathen world were in as advantageous a situation with regard to natural Religion as they are now amongst us; that it was laid before them, and enforced upon them, in a manner as distinct, and as much tending to influence their practice ? The objections against all this, from the pei-version of (3hristianity, and from the supposition of its having had but little good influence, however innocently they may be proposed, yet cannot be insisted upon as conclusive, upoii any principles but such as lead to downright Atheism ; be- cause the manifestation of the law of nature by reason, which, upon all principles of Theism, must have been from God, has been perverted and rendered inefl'ectual in the same manner. It may indeed, I think, truly be said, that the good efl'ects of Christianity have not been small ; nor its supposed ill effects, any effects at all of it, properly speaking ^ Perhaps, too, the things themselves done have been aggravated ; and if not, Christianity hath been often only a pretence ; and the same evils in the main would have been done upon some other pretence. However, gi^eat and shocking as the corruptions and abuses of it have really been, they cannot be insisted upon as arguments against it, upon principles of Theism. For one cannot proceed one step in reasoning upon natural Religion, any more than upon Christianity, without laying it down as a first prin- ciple, that the dispensations of Providence are not to be judged of by their perversions, but by their genuine ten- dencies : not by what they do actually seem to effect, but by what they would effect if mankind did their part — that part which is justly put and left upon them. It is alto- gether as much the language of one as of the other : He That is unjust, let him be unjust still : and he that is holy, let him be holy still'-. The hght of reason does not, any more than that of revelation, force men to submit to its authority ; both admonish them of what they ought to do and avoid, together with the consequences of each, and after this, leave them at full liberty to act just as they please till the ap pointed time of judgment. Every moments experience ahows that this is God's general rule of government. To return, then: Christianity being a promulgation of ' See Paley's Evidences, part iii. chap. vii. ^ Rev. xxii. 11. CH. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY 201 tlie law of nature ; being moreover an authoritative pro- mulgation of it, with new light and other circumstances of peculiar advantage adapted to the wants of mankind ; diese things fully show its impoitance. And it is to be ob- served further, that as the nature of the case requires, so alJ Christians are commanded to contribute, by their profession cf Christianity, to presei^e it in the world, and render ii such a promulgation and enforcement of Religion. For it is the veiy scheme of the Gospel, that each Christian should, in his degree, contribute towards continuing and carrying it on : all by uniting in the public profession and external practice of Christianity, some by instructing, by having the oversight and taking care of this religious com- munity, the Church of God. Now this further shows the importance of Christianity; and, which is what I chiefly intend, its importance .^n a practical sense, or the high ob- ligations we are under to take it into oru" most serious consideration, and the danger there must necessarily be, not only in treating it despitefully, which I am not now speak- ing of, but in disregarding and neglecting it. For this is neglecting to do what is expressly enjoined us, for continu ing those benefits to the world, and transmitting them down to future times. Ajid all this holds, even though the only thing to be considered in Christianity were its sub serviency to natural Religion. But, II. Christianity is to be considered in a further view ; as containing an account of a dispensation of things, not at all discoverable by reason, in consequence of which several dis- tinct precepts are enjoined us^ Christianity is not only an external institution of natural Religion, and a new promul gation of God's general providence, as righteous Governor and Judge of the world ; but it contains also a revelation of a particular dispensation of Providence, carrying on by his Son and Spirit for the recovery and salvation of mankind, who are represented in Scripture to be in a state of ruin. And m consequence of this revelation being made, we are ' Butler here insists that Christianity not merely is a new dispensation beyond the discovery of reason, but also that it reveals to us certain new relations to the Divine Persons, and hence imposes upon us certain duties before unknown. These duties become obligatory on us from the moment that our relation to these Divine Persons is made known to us. They are ante nor to, and independent of, any external command, and arise simply and directly out of the very nature of their offices and relations toward us. — £d% £0a OF THE IMPORTANCE [PT. n. commanded to be baptized, not only in the name of the Father^ hat also of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost ; and other obli gations of duty, unknown before, to the Son and tlie Holy Ghost, are revealed. Now the importance of these duties may be judged of, by observing that they arise, not from positive command merely, but also from the offices, which appear, from Scriptm-e, to belong to those divine persons in the Gospel dispensation, or from the relations which we are there informed they stand in to us. By reason is revealed the relation which God the Father stands in to us. Hence arises the obligation of duty which we are under to him. Ir. Scriptm-e are revealed tlie relations which the Son and Holy Spirit stand in to us. Hence arise the obligations of duty which we are under to them. The tnith of tlie case, as one may speak, in each of these three respects being ad- mitted : that God is the governor of tlie world upon the evidence of reason ; that Christ is the mediator between God and man, and tlie Holy Ghost our guide and sancti- fier, upon the evidence of revelation : the tnith of the case, I say, in each of these respects being admitted, it is no more a question why it should be commanded that we be baptized in the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, than tliat we be baptized in the name of the Fatlier. This matter seems to require to be more fully stated ^ Let it be remembered, then, that Religion comes under the twofold consideration of internal and external; for the latter is as real a part of Religion, of true Religion, as the former. Now when Religion is considered under •the first notion, as an inward principle, to be exerted in such and such inward acts of the mind and heart, the essence of natural Religion may be said to consist in religious regards to God the Father Almighty ; and the essence of revealed Religion, as distinguished from natural, to consist in religious regards to the Son and to the Holy Ghost. And the obligation we are under, of paying tliese religious regards to each of these divine persons re- spectively, arises from the respective relations which they each stand in to us. How these relations Eire made kno^^Tl whether by reason or revelation, makes no alteration in the case ; because the duties arise out of the relations ' See The Nature, Obligaticn, and Efficacy of the Chriatian Sacraments, >:., and Colliber of revealed Iteligion, as there quoted. [CH. I. OF CliRrSTIANITY. 203 themselves, not out of the manner in which we are in- formed of them. The Son and Spirit have each his proper office in that great dispensation of Providence, the redemption of the world ; tlie one our mediator, the other our sanctifier. Does not, then, the duty of rehgious re- gards to both these divine persons as immediately arise, tu the view of reason, out of the very nature of these offices and relations, as the inward good-will and kind intention which we owe to our fellow-creatures arises out of the common relations between us and them ? But it will be asked, " What are the inward religious regards, aj)pearing thus obviously due to the Son and Holy Spirit, as arising, not merely from command in Scripture, but from the very nature of the revealed relations, which they stand in to us ? " I answer, the religious regards of reverence, honour, love, trust, gi'atitude, fear, hope. In what external manner this inward worship is to be expressed, is a matter of pure revealed command ; as perhaps the external manner, in which God the Father is to be worshipped may be more so than we are ready to think ; but the worship ^ the internal worship itself, to the Son and Holy Ghost, is no further matter of pure revealed command, than as the relations they stand in to us are matter of pure revelation ; for the relations being known, the obligations to such Internal worship are obligations of reason, arising out of those relations themselves. In short, the history of the Gospel as immediately shows us the reason of these obli- gations, as it shows us the meaning of the words Son and Holy Ghost. If tliis account of the Christian Eeligion be just, those persons who can speak lightly of it, as of little conse- quence, provided natural Religion be kept to, plainly forget, lliat Christianity, even what is peculiarly so called, as distinguished from natm^al Religion, has yet somewhat ' The obligation of paying religious worship to the eternal Son or the Holy Ghost is as much moral as the duty of charity to mankind ; for both obli- gations arise, independent of any external command, from our relations to both the one and the other, immediately that they are made known to us. It is because God stands to us in the relation of our Creator, our Redeemer, and our Sanctifier, that we owe him religious regards, independent of any express command ; and it is because mankind already stand to us m the relation of brethren, that we owe them the duty of charity, even apart from any precept. — Ed. 204 OF THE IMPOETANCK [PT. TI. very important, even of a moral nature. For the office of oui* Lord being made kno^vn, and the relation he stands in to us, the obligation of religious regards to him is f>lainly moral, as much as cliarity to mankind is; since this obligation arises, before external command, imme Jiately out of that his office and relation itself. Those persons appear to forget, that revelation is to be cor. sidered, as informing us of somewhat new in the state of mankind, and in the government of the world ; as ac- quainting us with some relations we stand in, which could not othenvise have been known. And these relations being real (though before revelation we could be under no obligations from them, yet upon their being revealed), there is no reason to think, but that neglect of behaving suitably to them 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. And ignorance, whether unavoidable or volun- taiy, so far as we can possibly see, will just as much, and just as little, excuse in one case as in the other; the ignorance being supposed equally unavoidable, or equally voluntary, in both cases. If therefore Christ be indeed the mediator between God and man, i. e., if Christianity be true ; if he be indeed our Lord, om* Saviour, and om- God, no one can say what may follow, not only the obstinate but the careless disregard to him in those high relations. Nay, no one can say what may follow such disregard, even in the way of natural con- sequence ^ For as the natural consequences of vice in this life are doubtless to be considered as judicial punish- ments inflicted by God, so likewise, for aught we know, the judicial punishments of the future life may be, in a like way or a like sense, the natural consequence of vice -, of men s violating or disregarding the relations wiiich God has placed them in here, and made known to them. Again : If mankind are coriTipted and depraved in their moral character, and so are unfit for that state which Christ is gone to prepare for his disciples ; and if the assistance of God's Spirit be necessary to renew their natm'e in the degree requisite to their being qualified for that state, — all ivhich is implied in the express though figurative declara ' Pp. 97, 98. * Cii. 1. CH. I.] OF CHEISTLANITY. 205 tion. Except a man be bom of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God \ — supposing tliis, is it possible any serious person can think it a slight matter, whether or no he makes use of the means expressly commanded oy God for obtaining this divine assistance? especially since the whole analogy of nature shows, that we are not to expect any benefits without making use of the appointed means for -obtaining or enjoying them. Now reason shows us ro hing of the particular immediate means of obtaining either temporal or spiritual benefits. This, therefore, we must learn, either from experience or revelation. And experience the present case does not admit of. The conclusion from all this evidently is, that, Chris- tianity being supposed either true or credible, it is unspeak- able irreverence, and really the most presumptuous rash- ness, to treat it as a light matter. It can never justly be esteemed of little consequence, till it be positively supposed false. Nor do I know a higher and more important obli- gation which we are under than that of examining most seriously into the evidence of it, supposing its credibility ; and of embracing it upon supposition of its truth. The two following deductions may be proper to be added, in order to illustrate the foregoing observations, and to prevent their being mistaken. First, Hence we may clearly see where lies the dis- tinction between what is positive and what is moral in Religion. Moral precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we see ; positive precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we do not see -. Moral duties -^ arise out of the nature of ' John iii. 5. ^ This is the distinction between moral and positive precepts considered respectively as such. But yet, since the latter have somewhat of a moral nature, we may see the reason of them considered in this view. Moral and positive precepts are in some respects alike, in other respects different. Sc far as they are alike, we discern the reasons of both ; so far as they are dif- ferent, we discern the reasons of the former, but not of the latter. See p. 198, &c., and p. 206. ^ Moral duties are superior to positive duties, for, Istly, they are prior in point of time, flowing directly from some acknowledged relation of ourselves to another; 2ndly, they are, as it were, ends, to which positive duties are means. But, on the other hand, it must be remembered that a positive duty becomes a moral duty directly we know it to come from one to whom w« itand in a particular relation. Thus the external worship of God is a moral duty, though sacrifice, as a particular form of worship, is only a positive duty J but when we come to know that it has been commanded by God himself, it rises from a mere positive to a moral dut3'. — Ed. a06 OF THK IMPOKTANCE [PT. n. the jase itself, prior to external ccmmand. Positive duties do not arise out of the nature of the case, but from ex- ternal command ; nor would tliey be duties at all, were it not for such command received from him whose creatures and subjects we are. But the manner in which the nature of the case, or the fact of the relation, is made known, this doth not denominate any duty either positive or moral. That we be baptized in the name of the Father is as much a positive duty as that we baptized in the name of the Son, because both arise equally from revealed command ; though the relation which we stand in to God the Father is made known to us by reason, the relation we stand in to Christ by revelation only. On the other hand, the dis- pensation of the Gospel admitted, gratitude as immediately becomes due to Christ, from his being the voluntary mi- nister of tliis dispensation, as it is due to God the Father, from his being the fountain of all good ; though tlie first is made known to us by revelation only, the second by reason. Hence also we may see, and for distinctness' sake it may be worth mentioning, that positive institutions come under a twofold consideration. They are either institutions founded on natm^al Eeligion, as baptism in the name of the Father ; though this has also a particular reference to the Gospel dispensation, for it is in tlie name of God, as the Fatlier of our Lord Jesus Chi'ist : or they are external institutions founded on revealed Eeligion, as baptism in the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Secondly. From the distinction between what is moral and what is positive in Eeligion, appears the ground of tliat peculiar preference which the Scripture teaches us to be due to the former. The reason of positive institutions in general is veiy obvious, though we should not see the reason why such particular ones are pitched upon rather than others. Whoever, therefore, instead of cavilling at words, will at- tend to the thing itself, may cleai'ly see that positive in- stitutions in general, as distinguished from this or that particular one, have the nature of moral commands, since the reasons of them appear. Thus, for instance, the ex- ternal worship of God is a moral duty, though no particu- lar mode of it be so. Care, then, is to be taken, when a comparison is made between positive and moral duties, that they be compared no further than as they are different* OH. I.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 807 no further than as the former are positive, or arise out of mere external command, the reasons of which we are not acquainted with ; and as the latter are moral, or arise out of the apparent reason of the case, without such external command. Unless this caution be observed, we shall run into endless confusion. Now this being premised, suppose two standing precepts enjoined by the same authority, that, in certain conjunc- tures, it is impossible to obey botli; tliat the former is moral, i. e., a precept of which we see the reasons, and that they hold in the particular case before us ; but that the latter is positive, i. e., a precept of which we do not see the reasons : it is indisputable that our obligations are to obey the former \ because there is an apparent reason for this preference, and none against it. Further, positive institutions — I suppose all those which Christianity en- joins — are means to a moral end, and the end must be acknowledged more excellent than tlie means. Nor is ob- servance of these institutions any religious obedience at all, or of any value, othei-wise than as it proceeds from a moral principle. This seems to be the strict logical way of stating and deteiinining this matter ; but will, perhaps, be found less applicable to practice than may be tliought at first sight. And therefore, in a more practical though more lax way of consideration, and taking the words moral law and posi- tive institutions in the popular sense, I add, that the whole moral law is as much matter of revealed command as positive institutions are, for the Scripture enjoins eveiy moral virtue. In this respect, then, they are both upon a level. But the moral law is, moreover, written upon our hearts ; interwoven into our very nature. And this is ? plain intimation of the Author of it, which is to be pre- ferred when they interfere. But there is not altogether so much necessity for the determination of this question as some persons seem to think. Nor are we left to reason alone to detemiine it. For, First, though mankind have, in all ages, been gi^eatly 1 But we are not to suppose, because we cannot see the reasons for them, that God has not the wisest and best reasons for imposing them. This would not be worth remarking, if deistical writers, who deny the possibility of suci precepts^ did not confound positive with arbitrary precepts. — {£[,) r ' 208 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PT. II prone to place their religion in peculiar positive rites, bj way of equivalent for obedience to moral precepts, yet, without making any comparison at all between them, and consequently without determining which is to liave the preference, the nature of the thing abundantly shows all notions of that kind to be utterly subversive of true reli- gion, as they are, moreover, contrary to the whole general tenor of Scripture ; and likewise to the most express par- ticular declarations of it, that nothing can render us ac- cepted of God without moral ^drtue. Secondly, upon the occasion of mentioning together positive and moral duties, tlie Scripture always puts the stress of Religion upon the latter, and never upon the former, which, though no sort of allowance to neglect the former, when they do not in- terfere vvdth the latter, yet is a plain intimation that when they do, the latter are to be preferred. And further, as mankind are for placing the stress of their religion any- where rather than upon virtue, lest both the reason of the thing, and the general spirit of Christianity, appearing in the intimation now mentioned, should be ineffectual against this prevalent folly, our Lord himself, from whose com- mand alone the obligation of positive institutions arises, has taken occasion to make the comparison between them and moral precepts ; when the Pharisees censured him for eating with publicans and sinners, and also when they cen- sured his disciples for plucking the ears of corn on the Sab- hath day. Upon this comparison he has determined ex- pressly, and in form, which shall have the preference when tliey interfere. And by delivering his authoritative deter- mination in a proverbial manner of expression, he has made it general : I will have mercy, and not sacrifice^. The propriety of the word proverbial is not the thing insisted upon, though I think the manner of speaking is to be called so. But that the manner of spealdng very remark- ably renders the detennination general, is surely indisput- able For had it, in the latter case, been said only that God preferred mercy to the rigid observ^ance of the Sab- bath, even then, by parity of reason, most justly might we have argued, that he preferred mercy likewise to the obser\'ance of other ritual institutions, and, \n general moral duties to positive ones. And thus the det^nnina > Matt. ix. 13, and xii. 7. OB, L] of CHRISTIANITY. SOtJ tion would have been general, though its being so were inferred and not expressed. But as the passage rea,lly stands in tlie Gospei, it is much stronger. For the sense and the veiy literal words of our Lord's answer are as ap- pUcable to any other instance of a comparison between positive and moral duties as to this upon which they were spoken. And if, in case of competition, mercy is to be preferred to positive institutions, it will scarce be thought tliat justice is to give place to them. It is remarkable, too, that as the words are a quotation from the Old Testa- ment, they are introduced, on both the forementioned oc- casions, with a declaration that the Pharisees did not un- derstand the meaning of them. This, I say, is very re- markable. For, since it is scarce possible for the most ignorant person not to understand the literal sense of the passage in the Prophet', and since understanding the literal sense would not have prevented their condemning the guiltless '', it can hardly be doubted that the thing which om- Lord really intended in that declaration was, that the Pharisees had not learned from it, as they might, wherein the general spirit of Keligion consists : that it consists in moral piety and virtue, as distinguished from fomis and ritual obseiwances. However, it is certain we may leara this from his divine application of the passage in the Gospel. But as it is one of the peculiar weaknesses of human nature, when upon a comparison of two things one is found to be of greater importance than the other, to con- sider this other as of scarce any importance at all■^ it is highly necessary that we remind ourselves, how great pre sumption it is to make light of any institutions of divine appointment ; that our obligations to obey all God's com- mands whatever are absolute and indispensable ; and that commands merely positive, admitted to be from him, lay us under a moral obligation to obey them, an obligation moral in the strictest and most proper sense. ' Hosea vi. ^ gee Matt. xii. 7. ^ A neglect of tlie ordinances of religion of Divine appointment is the sure symptom of a criminal indifference about those higher duties by which men pretend to atone for the omission. It is too often found to be the beginning of a licentious life, and for the most part ends in the highest ex- cesses of profligacy and irreligion. — Hor$leys Sermons on Uie Sabbath. {Ed. P 2X0 OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [PT. It To these things I cannot forbear adding, that the ac- coant now given of Christianity most strongly shows and enforces upon us the obligation of searching the Scrip, tures, in order to see what the scheme of revelation really is, instead of determining beforehand, from reason, what the scheme of it must be ^ Indeed, if in Revelation there be found any passages the seeming meaning of which is contraiy to natural Eeligion, we may most certainly con- clude such seeming meaning not to be the real one But it is not any degree of a presumption against an in- terpretation of Scripture, that such intei^^retation contains a doctrine which the light of nature cannot discover-', or a precept which the law of natm-e does not oblige to. CHAPTER II. OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION AGAINST A EEVELATION, CONSIDERED AS MIRACULOUS. Havinq shown the importance of the Christian revelation and the obligations which we are under seriously to attend to it, upon supposition of its truth or its credibility, the next thing in order, is to consider the supposed presump- tions against revelation in general, which shall be the subject of this chapter, and the objections against the Christian in particular, which shall be the subject of some following ones 'K For it seems the most natural method, to remove these prejudices against Christianity, before we proceed to the consideration of the positive evidence for it, and the objections against that evidence"*. It is, I think, commonly supposed that there is some peculiar presumption ^ from the analogy of nature, against ' See ch. iii. 2 Pp. 193^ 194. ^ Ch. iii. iv. V. vi. * Ch. vii. 5 Hume has gone further; he asserts that " the credit we give to testimony is derived solely from experience," while, he adds, "a miracle is contrary to experience. No testimony should ever gain credit to an event, unless it is more extraordinary that it should be false than that the event should have happened. . . . It is contrary to experience that a miracle should be true; but not contrary to experience that testimony should be false." In short, he considers miracles as impossible; for, speaking of the Abb^ de Paris's miracles, he says, " What have we now to oppose to such a cloud of witnesses, but tlie absolute impossibility/ or miraculous nature of the events they relate?" Besides the answers here given, see the introduction to the CH. n.] AGAINST MIEACLES. 211 the Christian scheme of things, at least against miracles, so as that stronger evidence is necessary to prove the truth and reality of them, than would be sufficient to con- vince us of other events, or matters of fact. Indeed the consideration of this supposed presumption cannot but be thought \erj insignificant by many persons. Yet, as it belongs to the subject of this Treatise, so it may tend to open the mind, and remove some prejudices, howevei needless 'Jae consideration of it be upon its own account'. I. I find no appearance of a presumption, from the analogy of nature, against the general scheme of Christian- ity, that God created and invisibly governs the world by Jesus Christ ; and by him also will hereafter judge it in righteousness, i. e., render to every one according to his works, and that good men are under the secret influence of his Spirit. Whether these things are or are not to be called mkaculous, is perhaps only a question about words ; or, however, is of no moment in the case. If the analogy of nature raises any presumption against this general scheme of Clu-istianity, it must be either because it is not discoverable by reason or experience, or else because it is unlike that course of nature which is. But analogy raises ** Analogy " above ; and that toPaley's " Evidences." The fallacy of Hume's reasoning consists in this, that he argues from the laws of matter and motion established in the world; which laws being confessedly arbitrary constitu- tions of the Creator, the manner of their operation cannot be drawn from any previous reasoning, but must be drawn solely from experience; but if we admit the existence of a God, we must admit that we can discover, by reasoning a prion, a connection between an almight}' Cause and every effect which is the object of power. To establish his position, it is necessary to prove that nothing is possible but what is established in the usual course of nature. And as to his objection from testimony — for he opposes the UEcertaintj'- of testimony to the certainty of contrary experience— this is answered below (ch. iii.). Further, that the evidence of testimony is superior to that of experience, and that they are somewhat connected, so that the weakening of the one weakens the other, is shown in Price's " Dissertation,' p. 400, and in Dr. Adam's " Essay on Miracles," p. 5. — E^ into the kingdom of God which mankind have, in fact, 244 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PT. H. introduced; to blaspheme the Sovereign Lord of all, to contemn his authority, to be injurious, to the degree they are, to their fellow-creatures, the creatures of God. Add, that the effects of vice in the present world are often ex- treme misery, irretrievable niin, and even death ; and upon putting all this together, it will appear that as no one can say in what degree fatal the unprevented consequences of vice may be, according to the general rule of divine go- vernment ; so it is by no means intuitively certain how far these consequences could possibly, in the natm'e of the thing, be prevented, consistently with the eternal rule of right, or with what is, in fact, the moral constitution of nature. However, tliere would be large gromid to hope, that the universal government was not so severely strict, but that there was room for pardon, or for having those penal consequences prevented. Yet, IV. There seems no probability that anything we could do would alone and of itself prevent them : prevent their following or being inflicted. But one would think at least it were impossible that the contrai^ should be thought certain. For we are not acquainted with the whole of the case. We are not informed of all the reasons which render it fit that future punishments should be inflicted; and therefore cannot know, whether anything we could do would make such an alteration, as to render it fit that they should be remitted. We do not know what tlie whole natural or appointed consequences of vice are, nor in what way they would follow, if not prevented; and tlierefore can in no sort say, whether we could do anything whicli would be sufficient to prevent them. Our ignorance being thus manifest, let us recollect the analogy of Nature or Providence. For, though this may be but a slight ground to raise a positive opinion upon in this matter, yet it is suffi- cient to answer a mere arbitrary assertion, without any kind of evidence, urged by way of objection against a doctrine, the proof of which is not reason, but revelation. Consider then : people ruin their fortunes by extravagance ; they bring diseases upon themselves by excess ; they incur the penalties of civil laws; and surely civil government is natural; will sorrow for these follies past, and behaving well for the future, alone and of itself prevent the natural consequences of them? On the contrary, men's natui'ai CH. v.] A MEEIATOR AND REDEKMKR. 245 abilities of helpxng themselves are often impaired; or if not, yet they are forced to be beholden to the assistance of others, upon several accomits, and in different ways: assistance which they would have had no occasion for, had it not been for their misconduct; but which, in the dls advantageous condition they have reduced themselves to, is absolutely necessary to their recoveiy, and retrieving their affaks. Now since this is our case, considering ourselves merely as inhabitants of this world, and as having a temporal interest here, mider the natm-al government of God, which however has a great deal moral in it ; why is it not supposable that this may be our case also, in our more important cai^acity, as under his perfect moral government, and having a more general and futm^e interest depending ? If we have misbehaved in this higher capacity, and ren- dered ourselves obnoxious to the future punishment which God has annexed to vice, it is plainly credible, that be- having well for the time to come may be — not useless, God forbid — but wholly insufficient, alone and of itself, to prevent that punishment; or to put us in the condition which we should have been in had we preserved our innocence. And though we ought to reason with all reverence, whenever we reason concerning the divine conduct, yet it may be added, that it is clearly contrar}^ to all om' notions of government, as well as to what is, in fact, the general constitution of nature, to suppose, that doing well for the future should, in all cases, prevent all the judicial bad consequences of having done evil, or all the punishment annexed to disobedience K And we have manifestly nothing from whence to determine, in what degree, and in what cases, reformation would prevent this punishment, even supposing that it would in some^. And though the e/Bcacy • If it be said that this would not be proper in human govemmentg, because they may easily be deceived by false shows of repentance, we answer that, supposing human governors could certainly distinguish a true repentance from a false one, the inconvenience of such a constitution to the public T/ould still be the same; for it would encourage persons to commit crimes, in hopes of doing it with impunity, since every criminal would think that, in order to escape punishment, he had nothing to do but repent, and this alone would satisfy the law; and he would be apt to flatter himself that this was at any time in his power. — Leland against Tindal. {Ed.) 2 The case of penitence is clearly different from that of iniiocmce. It 246 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PT. 11. of repentance itself alone, to prevent what mankind had rendered themselves obnoxious to, and recover what they had forfeited, is now insisted upon, in opposition to Chiis- tianity; yet, by the general prevalence of propitiatory sa- crifices over the heathen world, this notion of repentance alone being sufficient to expiate guilt, appears to be con- trary to the general sense of mankind ^ Upon the whole, then, had the laws, the general laws, of God's government been permitted to operate without any interposition in our behalf, the future punishment, for aught we know to the contrary, or have any reason to think, must inevitably have foUowed, notwithstanding any tiling we could have done to prevent it. Now, V. In this darkness, or this light of nature, call it which you please, revelation comes in, confirms every doubting fear which could enter into the heart of man concerning the future unprevented consequence of wickedness ; sup- poses the world to be in a state of ruin (a supposition which seems the very ground of the Christian dispensation, and which, if not provable by reason, yet is in no wise contrary to it); teaches us too that the rules of divine government are such as not to admit of pai'don imme- diately and directly upon repentance, or by the sole efficacy of it; but then teaches at the same time, what nature might justly have hoped, that the moral government of the universe was not so rigid but that there was room for an implies a mixture of guilt pre-contracted, and punishment proportionably deserved; it is consequently inconsistent with rectitude that both should be treated alike by God. The present conduct of the penitent will receive God's approbation ; but the reformation of the sinner cannot have a retrospective effect; the agent may be changed, but his former sins cannot be thereby cancelled. The convert and the sinner are the same individual person, and the agent must be answerable for his whole conduct. — Balguys Es^ay on Redemption. Cicero goes no farther on this head than to assert, " Quern poenitet peccasse, pene est innocens." — Dr. Shuck/ord. (Ed.) ' Our notions of moral government and the wide-spread belief of the world in propitiatory sacrifices, are both of them against the supposition that mere reformation and repentance will prevent the penal consequences of sin. That the heathen believed their animal sacrifices to be not only of an expiatory but of a vicarioits nature, might be shown from a variety of passages. FoJ Instance, " Cor pro corde, precor; pro fibris sumite fibras. Hanc animam vobis pro meliore damns." Ovid, Fcuti, vi. {Ed.) CH. v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 247 interposition to avert the fatal consequences of vice, which therefore, by this means, does admit of pardon. Eevelit- tion teaches us, that the imknown laws of God's more general government, no less than the particular la\vs by which we experience he governs us at present, are com- passionate \ as well as good in the more general notion of goodness ; and that he hath mercifully provided that there should be an intei-position to prevent the destruction of human kind, whatever that destruction unprevented would have been. God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth, not, to be sure, in a speculative, but in a practical sense, that whosoever believeth in him, should not perish ^ : gave his Son in the same way of goodness to the world, as he affords particular persons the friendly assistance of their fellow-creatures ; when without it their temporal ruin would be the certain consequence of their follies ; in the same way of goodness I say, though in a transcendent and infinitely higher degree. And the Son of €rod loved its, and gave himself for us, with a love which he himself compares to that of human friendship ; though, in this case, all comparisons must fall infinitely short of the thing intended to be illustrated by them. He inter- posed in such a manner as was necessary and effectual to prevent that execution of justice upon sinners, which God had appointed should otherwise have been executed upon them ; or in such a manner as to prevent that punishment from actually following, which, according to the general laws of divine government, must have followed the sins of the world, had it not been for such interposition. ^ ' P. 242. 2 jo)jn jii iQ^ ^ It cannot, I suppose, be imagined, even \ff the most cursory reader, that it is, in any sort, affirmed or implied in anything said in this chapter, that none can have the benefit of the general redemption but such as have the advantage of being made acquainted with it in the present life. But it may be needful to mention that several questions, which have been brought into the subject before us and determined, are not in the least entered into here; questions which have been, I fear, rashly determined, and perhaps with equal rashness contrary ways. For instance, whether God could have saved the world by other means than the death of Christ, consistently with the general laws of his government. And had not Christ eome into the world, what would have been the future condition of the better sort of men ; •hose just persons over the face of the earth for whom Manasaes in his prayer asserts repentance was not appointed. The meaning of the firet of these questions is greatly ambiguous, and neither of them can properly be answered 248 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PT- IL If anything here said should appear, upon first thought, inconsistent with divine goodness, a second, I am persuaded, will entirely remove that appearance. For were we to sup- pose the constitution of things to be such as that the whole creation must have perished, had it not been for somewhat which God had appointed should be, in order to prevent that iTiin ; even this supposition would not be inconsistent in any degree with the most absolutely perfect goodness. But still it may be thought that this whole manner of treating the subject before us, supposes man- kind to be naturally in a very strange state. And truly so it does. But it is not Christianity which has put us into tliis state. Whoever will consider the manifold miseries, and the extreme wickedness of the world, that the best have great wrongnesses within themselves, which they complain of, and endeavour to amend ; but that the gene- rality grow more profligate and corrupt with age; that even moralists thought the present state to be a state of punishment; and, what might be added, that •the earth our habitation has the appearances of being a ruin : whoever, I say, will consider all these, and some other obvious things, will think he has little reason to object against the Scripture account, that manRicd is in a state of degradation \ against this being the fact, how difficult soever he may think it to account for, or even to form a distinct conception of, the occasions and circumstances of it. But that the crime of our first parents was the occa- sion of our being placed in a more disadvantageous con- dition, is a thing throughout and particularly analogous to what we see in the daily course of natural providence, as the recoveiy of the world by the interposition of Christ has been shown to be so in general. without going upon that infinitely absurd supposition that we know the whole of the case. And perhaps the very inquiry, What would have fol- lowed if God had not done as he has, may have in it some very great iiapropriety, and ought not to be carried on any further than is necessary to help our partial and inadequate conceptions of things. ' Here arises the objection that the doctrine which represents man as being in a lost and fallen state is inconsistent with the divine goodness. Our answer is that even the supposition that not only man but the whole creation must have been lost but for God's remedial interference, would not have been inconsistent with God's goodness. And if so, then much less th« Conner. 3H. v.] A MEDIATOR AND REUKEMEB. 249 VI. Th9 particular manner in which Christ interposed in the redemption of the world, or his office as Mediator, in the largest sense, between God and man, is thus repre- sented to us in the Scripture. He is the light of the world ^ * the revealer of ths will of God in the most eminent sense. He is a propitiatory sacrifice -' ; the Lamb of God -^ : and, as he voluntarily offered himself up, he is styled our High Priest ^. And, which seems of peculiar weight, he is de- scribed beforehand in the Old Testament under the same characters of a priest, and an expiatory victim''. And whrr:j,s it is objected that all this is merely by way of allusion to the sacrifices of the Mosaic law ; the Apostle on the contrary affirms, tliat the law was a shadow of good things to come, and not the very image of the things '". and that the priests that offer gifts according to the law — serve unto the example and shadow of heavenly things, as Moses was admonished of God when he was about to make the tabernacle. For see [saith he) that thou make all things according to the pattern showed to thee in the mount ^: i. e., the Levitical priesthood was a shadow of the priesthood of Christ ; in like manner as the tabernacle made by Moses was according to that showed him in the mount. The priesthood of Christ, and the tabernacle in the mount, were the originals ; of the former of which the Levitical priesthood was a type, and of the latter the tabernacle made by Moses was a copy. The doctrine of this epistle then plainly is, that the legal sacrifices were allusions to the great and final atonement to be made by the blood of Christ, and not that this was an allusion to those. Nor can anything be more express or determinate than the following passage. It is not possible that the blood of bidls and of goats should take away sins. Wherefore, when he cometh into the world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering, i. e., of bulls and of goats, thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me. Lo, I come to do thy will, God. By the which will we are sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all *. And to add one passage more of the like kind : John i. and viii. 12. ^ Eom. iii. 25, v. 11 ; 1 Cor. v. 7 ; Eph. v. 2 ; 1 John ii. 2 ; Mttt xxfi 28. 3 John i. 29, 36, and throughout the book of Revelation. * Throughout the epistle to the Hebrews. ' Isa. liii. ; Dan. ix. 24 ; Ps. ex. 4. « Heb. x. 1. ' Heb. viii. 4, 5. • Heb. x. 4, 5, 7, 9, 10. 250 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PT. U Christ was once offered to hear the sins of many ; and unto them tJiat look for him shall he appear the second time, without sin ; i. e., without bearing sin, as he did at his first coming, by being an offering for it, without having our iniquities again laid upon him, without being any more a sin-offering: — unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time, without sin, unto salvation ^ Nor do the inspired writers at all confine themselves to this manner of speaking concern- ing the satisfaction of Chi'ist ; but declare an efficacy in what he did and suffered for us, additional to and beyond mere instruction, example, and government, in great variety of expression : That J esu^ should die for that nation, the Jews, arA not for that nation only, hut that also, plainly by the efficacy of his death, he should gather together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad ^ : that he suffered for sins, the just for the unjust ^ : that he gave his life, himself, a ransom * : that we are bought, bought with a price -^ : that he redeemed u^ with his blood : redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us^: that he is our advocate, inter- cessor, and propitiation '' : that he was made perfect, or consum- mate, through sufferings ; and being thus made perfect, he became the author of salvation '^ : that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, by the death of his Son by the cross, not imput- ing their trespasses unto them ^ : and lastly, that through death he destroyed him that had the power of death '°. Christ then, ha^^ng thus humbled himself, and become obedient unto death, even the death of the cross ; God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name, hath given all things into his hands, hath committed all judgment unto him , that all men should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father ^^ For worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, heard I saying, Blessing, and honour, and ghry, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, nnd unto the Lamb, for ever and ever ^^. ' Heb. ix. 28. 2 John xi. 51, 52. ^ 1 Pet. iii. 18. • Matt. XX. 28 ; Mark x. 45 ; 1 Tim. ii. 6. • 2 Pet. ii. 1 ; Rev. xiv. 4 ; 1 Cor. vi. 20. • 1 Pet. i. 19 ; Rev. v. 9 ; Gal. iii. 13. ' Heb. vii. 25 ; 1 John ii. 1, 2. • Heb. ii. 10, V. 9. ^2 Cor. v. 19 ; Rom. v. 10 ; Eph. ii. 16. ' Heb. ii. 14. See alao a remarkable passage in the book of Job, xxxiii. 24, " Phil. ii. 8, 9 ; John iii. 35, v. 22, 23. '^ j^ev. v. 12, 13. CH v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 251 These passages of Scripture seem to comprehend and express the chief parts of Christ's office as Mediator between God and man, so far, I mean, as the nature of this his office is revealed ; and it is usually treated of by divines under three heads. First. He was by way of eminence the Prophet, that Prophet that should come into the world ^ to declare the divine will. He published anew the law of nature, which men had corrupted ; and the very knowledge of which, to some degree, was lost among them. He taught mankind, taught us authoritatively, to live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this preseiit world, in expectation of the fiitm-e judgment of God. He confirmed the truth of this moral system of nature, and gave us additional evidence of it, the evidence of testi- mony -. He distinctly revealed the manner in which God would be worshipped, 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. To which is to be added, that he set us a perfect example, that we should follow his steps. Secondly. He has a kingdom which is not of this world. He fomided a church to be to mankind a standing memorial of rehgion, and invitation to it; which he promised to be with always even to the end. He exercises an invisible government over it himself, and by his Spirit: over that pai't of it which is militant here on earth, a government of discipline, /or the perfecting of the saints, for the edifying his body : till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ \ Of this church, all persons scattered over the world, who live in obedience to his laws, are members. For these he is gone to prepare a place, and will come again to receive them unto himself, that where he is, there they may be also ; and reign with him for ever and ever "^ : and likewise to take vengeance on them that know not God, and obey not his Gospel^. Against these parts of Christ's office I find no objections but what are fully obviated in the beginning of this chapter. Lastly. Christ offered himself a propitiatory sacrifice, and > John vi. 14. 2 p^ i9Q^ 3 Eph jy_ 12, 13. * John xiv. 2, 3 ; Eer. iii. 21, xi. 16. ^ 2 Thess. i. 8. 55 5 2 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PT. 71 made atonement for the sins of the world ; which is meiv tioned last, in regard to what is objected against it. Sacri- fices of expiation were commanded the Jews, and obtained amongst most other nations, from tradition, whose original probably was revelation. And they were continually re- peated, both occasionally, and at the retm-ns of stated times ; and made up great part of the external religion of mankind. But now once in the end of the world Christ apjjeared to imt away sin by the sacrifice of himself^. And this sacrifice was, in the highest degi-ee and with the most extensive influence, of that efficacy for obtaining pardon of sin which the heathens may be supposed to have thought their sacrifices to have been, and which the Jewish sacri- fices reaUy were in some degree, and with regard to some persons. How and in what particular way it had this efficacy, there ai'e not wanting persons who have endeavoured to explain ; but I do not find that the Scripture has explained it -. We seem to be very much in the dark concerning the manner in which the ancients understood atonement to be made, t. e., pardon to be obtained by sacrifices. And if the Scriptm-e has, as surely it has, left this matter of the satis- faction of Christ mysterious, left somewhat in it mirevealed, all conjectures about it must be, if not evidently absm-d, yet at least uncertain. Nor has any one reason to complain for want of further mformation, unless he can show his claim to it. Some have endeavom-ed to explain the efficacy of what Christ has done and suffered for us, beyond what the Scripture has authorized : others, probably because they could not explain it, have been for taking it away, and con- fining his office as Kedeemer of the world to his instruction, example, and government of the chm-ch. Whereas the doctrine of the Gospel appears to be, not only that he taught the efficacy of repentance, but rendered it of the efficacy of which it is, by what he did and suffered for us : that he obtained for us the benefit of having om- repentance accepted unto eternal life: not only tliat he revealed to » Heb. ix. 26. 2 All conjectures on a subject which is only partially revealed must be un- certain at the very best; and upon such deep subjects we cannot complain of •rant of further information to which we can show no claim. — ( W.) BH. V. I A MEDIATOE AND KEDEEMER. 253 sinners tliat they were in a capacity of salvation, and how th^y niight obtain it, but, moreover, that he put them into this capacity of salvation by what he did and suffered for tliem ; put us into a capacity of escaping future punish ment, and obtaining future happiness. And it is our wisdom thanld'ully to accept the benefit, by peifonning the conditions upon which it is offered, on our part, without disputing how it was procured on his. For, VII. Since we neither know by what means punishment in a future state would have followed wickedness in this» nor in what manner it would have been inflicted had it not been prevented ; nor all the reasons why its infliction would have been needful ; nor the particular nature of that state of happiness which Christ is gone to prepare for his dis- ciples : and since we ai^e ignorant how far anything which we could do, would, alone and of itself, have been effectual to prevent that pmiishment to which we were obnoxious, and recover that happiness which we had forfeited ; it is most evident we are not judges, antecedently to revelation, whether a mediator was or was not necessary to obtain those ends ; to prevent that future pmiishment, and bring mankind to the final happiness of their nature'. And for the very same reasons, upon supposition of the necessity of a mediator, we are no more judges, antecedently to revela tion, of the whole nature of his office, or the several parts of which it consists, of what was fit and requisite to be assigned him, in order to accomplish the ends of divine Providence in the appointment. And from hence it follows, that to object against the expediency or usefulness of par- ticular things, revealed to have been done or suffered by him, because we do not see how they were conducive to those ends, is highly absm-d. Yet nothing is more common to be met with than tliis absurdity. But if it be acknow- ledged beforehand that we are not judges in the case, it is evident that no objection can, with any shadow of reason, be urged against any particular part of Christ's mediatorial ' We next pass on to consider the worthlessness of all objections against the necessity of a mediator and against the mediatorial office of Jesus Christ; foir we are incompetent judges, before revelation, of the necessity of a mediator, and, even upon the supposition that a mediator is necessary, we are bcompetent judges as to the •:j.v''.ure of hi« mediatorial office, until it ig iCTealed to ua, — JSd. 254 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PT. IL office revealed in Scripture, till it can be shown positively not to be requisite or conducive to the ends proposed to be accomplished, or that it is m itself unreasonable. And there is one objection made against the satisfaction of Christ, which looks to be of this positive kind : that the doctrine of his being appointed to suffer for the sins of the world, represents God as being indifferent whether he punished the innocent or the guilty. Now from the fore- going observations we may see the extreme slightness of all such objections ; and (though it is most certain all who make them do not see the consequence) that they conclude altogether as much against Gods whole original constitu- tion of nature, and the whole daily course of divine Provi- dence in the government of the world \ i. e., against the whole scheme of Theism and the whole notion of Eeligion, as against Christianity. For the world is a constitution or system, whose parts have a mutual reference to each other : and there is a scheme of things gradually carrj-ing on, called the course of nature, to tne carrying on of which God has appointed us in various ways to contribute. And when, in the daily course of natural providence, it is appointed that innocent people should suffer for the faults of the guilty, this is liable to the very same objection as the instance we are now considering. The infinitely greater importance of that appointment of Christianity which is objected against, does not hinder, but it may be, as it plainly is, an appointment of the very same kind, with what the world affords us daily examples of. Nay, if there were any force at all in the objection, it would be stronger, in one respect, against natural providence tlian against Christianity; because under the former we are in many cases commanded, and even necessitated, whether we will or no, to suffer for the faults of otliers ; whereas the suffer- ings of Christ were voluntary. The world's being under the righteous government of God does indeed imply, that finally and upon the whole, every one shall receive accord- ing to his personal deserts ; and the general doctrine of the whole Scripture is, that this shall be the completion of ' In other words, the objection, if it proves anything, proves too much : for it applies equally to nature; nay, it applies to it with even stronger force, because in the natural world the innocent often suffer for the guilty involuHtanly, whereas Christ suflfered for us voluntarily. — £d. CH v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER 255 the divine government. But dui'ing the progress, and, for aught we know, even in order to the completion of this moral scheme, vicarious punishments may be fit, and abso- lutely necessaiy. Men, by their follies, run themselves into extreme distress; into difficulties which would be absolutely fatal to them, were it not for the interposition and assistance of others. God commands by the law of nature, that we afford them this assistance, in many cases where we cannot do it without very great pains, and labour, and sufferings to ourselves. And we see in what vai-iety of w^ays one person's sufferings contribute to the relief of another ; and how, or by what particular means, this comes to pass, or follows, from the constitution and laws of nature which came imder our notice : and, being familiarized to it, men ai'e not shocked with it. So that the reason of their insisting upon objections of tlie foregoing kind against the satisfaction of Cln-ist is, either that they do not consider God's settled and uniform appointments as his appoint- ments at all, or else they forget that vicarious punishment is a providential appointment of every day's experience ; and then, from their being unacquainted with the more general laws of nature or divine government over the world, and not seeing how the sufferings of Christ could contribute to the redemption of it, unless by arbitrary and tyrannical will; they conclude his sufferings could not contribute to it any other way. And yet, what has been often alleged in justification of this doctrine, even from the apparent natural tendency of this method of our redemp- tion ; its tendency to vindicate the authority of God's laws, and deter his creatures from sin ; this has never yet been answered, and is, I think, plainly unanswerable, though I am far from thinking it an account of the whole of the case. But without taking this into consideration, it abundantly appears, from the observations above made, that this objection is not an objection against Christianity, but against the whole general constitution of natme. Ajid if it were to be con- sidered as an objection against Christianity, or considering it as it is, an objection against the constitution of nature, it amounts to no more in conclusion tlian tliis, that a divine appointment cannot be necessary or expedient, because the objector does not discern it to be so, though he must own that the nature of the case is sucn as renders him Inca^ 250 THE APPOINTMENT OF A EEDEEMER. [PT. II pable of judging whether it be so or not, or of seeing it to be necessaiy. though it were so. It is mdeed a matter of great patience to reasonable men,, to fmd people arguing in this manner ; objecting against the credibility of such particular things revealed in Scripture, that they do not see the necessity or expediency of them. For though it is highly right, and the most pious exercise of our understanding, to inquire with due reverence into the ends and reasons of God's dispensation ; yet when those reasons are concealed, to argue from om' ignorance, that such dispen- sations cannot be from God, is infinitely absurd. The presumption of this kind of objections seems almost lost in the folly of tliem. And the folly of them is yet gi-eater, when they are urged, as usually they are, against things in Christianity analogous or like to those natural dispensations of Providence which are matter of experience. Let reason be kept to ; and if any part of the Scriptm-e accormt of the redemption of the world by Christ can be shown to be really contrary to it, let the Scripture, in the name of God, be given up ; but let not such poor creatures as we go on objecting against an infinite scheme, that we do not see the necessity or usefulness of all its parts, and call this reasoning ; and, which still furtlier heightens the absurdity in the present case, parts which we are not actively con- cerned in. For it may be worth mentioning, Lastly. That not only the reason of the tiling, but the whole analogy of nature, should teach us not to expect to have the like information concerning the divine conduct, as concerning our own duty. God instiTicts us by experience (for it is not reason, but experience which instructs us) what good or bad consequences will follow from om* acting in such and such manners ; and by this he directs us how we ai^e to behave ourselves. But though we are sufficiently insti'ucted for the common purposes of life, yet it is but an almost infinitely small part of natural providence which we are at all let into. The case is the same with regard to revelation. The doctrine of a mediator between God and man, against which it is objected that the expediency of some things in it is not understood, relates only to what wag done on God's part in the appointment, and on the Medi- ator s in the execution of it. For what is required of ua m consequence of this gracious dispensation is another sub- en. VI.] REV^ELATION NOT UNIVERSAL. 257 ject, in which none can complain for want of infonration The constitution of the world, and God's natural govern ment over it, is all mysteiy, as much as the Christian dispensation. Yet under the first he has given men all tilings pertaining to life; and under the other aL things pertaining unto godliness. And it may be added, that there is nothing hard to be accounted for in any of the common precepts of Christianity ; though if there were, surely a divine command is abundantly sufficient to lay us under the strongest obligations to obedience. But the fact is, that the reasons of all the Christian precepts are evident. Positive institutions are manifestly necessaiy to keep up and propagate religion amongst mankind. And our duty to Christ, the internal and external worship of him ; this part of the religion of the Gospel manifestly arises out of what he has done and suffered, his authority and dominion, and the relation which he is revealed to stand in to us^ CHAPTER VI. OF THE WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION ; AND OP THE SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN THE PROOF OF IT^. It has been thought by some persons that if the evidence of revelation appears doubtful, this itself turns into a posi- tive argument against it, because it cannot be supposed that, if it were true, it would be left to subsist upon doubtful evidence. And tlie objection against revelation from its not being imiversal is often insisted upon as of great weight. Now the weakness of these opinions may be shown by observing the suppositions on which they are founded, which are really such as these : — that it cannot be tliought God would have bestowed any favoui' at all upon us, unless » P. 201, &c. ^ Proceeding with the removal of objections against the Christian scheme, two are considered in this chapter : — (1.) The supposed deficiency/ in the evi- dence of revelation ; for apparent doubtfulness in the evidence of revelation is turned into a positive argument against it, on the supposition that a true revelation would not be left dependent upon doubtful evidence. (2.) Ths want of universality in the light of revelatioiv. These objections may b*5 urged against natural as well as against revealed religion; and the answers here given are almost equally applicable in both cases. — {W.) S 258 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL' [PT. IL in the degree which we think he might, and which we imagine would be most to our particular advantage ; and also that it cannot be thought he would bestow a favour upon any unless he bestowed the same upon all — supposi- tions which we find contradicted not by a few instances in God's natm-al government of the world, but by the general analogy of nature together ^ Persons who speak of the evidence of religion as doubtful, and of this supposed doubtfulness as a positive ai-gument against it, should be put upon considering what that evidence indeed is, which they act upon with regard to their temporal interests. For it is not only extremely difficult, but in many cases absolutely impossible, to balance pleasure and pain, satisfaction and uneasiness, so as to be able to say on which side the overplus is. There are the like difficulties and impossibilities in making the due allowances for a change of temper and taste, for satiety, disgusts, ill-health; any of which render men incapable of enjoying, after they have obtained what they most eagerly desired. Numberless too are the accidents, besides that one of untimely death, which may even probably disappoint the best concerted schemes : and strong objections are often seen to lie against them, not to be removed or answered, but which seem overbalanced by reasons on the other side ; so as that the certain difficulties and dangers of the pursuit are by every one tliought justly disregarded, upon account of the appearing greater advan- tages in case of success, though tliere be but little proba- bility of it. Lastly, every one observes om- liableness, if we be not upon our guard, to be deceived by the falsehood of men and the false appearances of things ; and this danger must be greatly increased if there be a strong bias within, suppose from indulged passion, to favour the deceit. Hence ai'ises that great uncertainty and doubtfulness of proof ' Stated in syllogistic form, the answer to the above objections is this* — All objections resting upon weak suppositions are themselves weak ; these objections rest on weak suppositions ; therefore, these objections are weak. To prove the minor premiss we remark that the above objections rest on no Btronger suppositions than the following : — (1.) That it is improbable that 9od would have bestowed any favour on us except in the degree which seems to us the best. (2.) That it is improbable that God should have bestowed a favour on any which he has not bestowed upon all. Now these •uppositions are contradicted by the general analogy of nature altogether. CB. TI.] SUPPOSED DEFICTKNCT IN ITS PROOF. 259 wherein our temporal interest really consists, what are the most probable means of attaining it, and whether those means will eventually be successful. And numberless instances there are, in the daily course of life, in which all men think it reasonable to engage in pursuits, though the probability is greatly against succeeding ; and to make such provision for themselves as it is supposable they may have occasion for, though the plain acknowledged probability is that they never shall. Then those who think the objection against revelation, from its light not being universal, to be of weight, should observe, that the Author of Natm-e, in numberless instances, bestows that upon some which he does not upon others, who seem equally to stand in need of it. Indeed, he appears to bestow all his gifts with the most promiscuous variety among creatures of the same species : health and strength, capacities of prudence and of knowledge, means of improvement, riches, and all external advantages. And as there are not any two men found of exactly like shape and features, so it is probable tliere are not any two of an exactly like constitution, temper, and situation with regard to the goods and evils of life. Yet, notwithstanding these imcertainties and varieties, God does exercise a natural government over the world, and there is such a thing as a prudent and imprudent institution of life, with regard to om- health and our affairs, mider that his natural government. As neither the Jewish nor Christian revelation have been imiversal, and as they have been afforded to a greater or less part of the world at different times, so likewise at dif- ferent times botli revelations have had different degrees of evidence. The Jews who lived during the succession of prophets, that is, from Moses till after the Captivity, had higher evidence of the truth of their religion, than those had who lived in the intei-val between the last-mentioned period and the coming of Chiust. And the first Chi^istians had higher evidence of the miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity than what we have now'. They had also a ' The evidence for Christianity from miracles, and from the lives of its professors, was stronger to the first Christians than it is to us ; on the other hand, the evidence from the fulfilment of prophecy 18 stronger to us than it was to the first Christians. See the same argument repeated by Butler in the opening sentences of Sermon i. (pp. 385, 386) on Human Nature. — Ed, 8 12 SOO REVELATIDN NOT UNIVERSAL: IVT TL strong presumptive proof of the truth of it, perhaps of mucli gi-eater force in way of argument than many think, of which we have veiy httle remaining ; I mean the presumptive proof of its truth from the influence which it had upon the hves of the generahty of its professors. And we, or future ages, may possibly have a proof of it, which they could not have, from the conformity between the prophetic histor}% and the state of the world and of Christianity. And further, if we were to suppose the evidence which some have of religion to amount to little more than seeing that it may be time, but that they remain in great doubts and uncertainties about both its evidence and its nature, and gi^eat perplexities !onceming the rule of life ; others to have a full conviction of the truth of religion, with a distinct knowledge of their duty, and others severally to have all the intennediate degTees of religious light and evidence which lie between tliese two — if we put the case, that for the present, it was intended revelation should be no more than a small light, in the midst of a w^orld greatly overspread, notwithstanding it, with ignorance and darkness ; that certain glimmerings of this light should extend and be directed to remote distances, in such a manner as tliat those Avho really partook of it should not discern from whence it originally came; that some in a nearer situation to it should have its light obscured, and, in different ways and degi^ees, intercepted: and that others should be placed within its clearer influence, and be much more enlivened, cheered, and directed by it; but yet that even to these it should be no more than a light shining in a dark place; all tliis Avould be perfectly uniform, and of a piece with the conduct of Providence, in tlie dis- tribution of its other blessings. If the fact of the case really were that some have received no light at all from the Scrip ture, as many ages and 30untries in the heathen world ; that others, though they have, by means of it, had essential or natural religion enforced upon their consciences, yet have never had ilae genuine Scripture revelation with its real evidence proposed to their consideration ; and the ancient Persians and modern Mahometans may possibly be in stances of people in a situation somewhat like to this ; that others, though they have had the Scripture laid before them as of divine revelation, yet have had it witli the system and evidence of Christian jty so interpolated, the system so cor* en. VI.] SUPPOSED DKFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. U6l rupted, the evidence so blended with false miracles, as to leave the mind in the utmost doubtfulness and uncertainty about the whole, which may be the state of some thoughtful men in most of those nations who call themselves Christian; and lastly, that otliers have had Christianity offered to them in its genuine simplicity, and with its proper evidence, as persons in countries and churches of civil and of Christian liberty; bat however that even tliese persons ai'e left in great ignorance in many respects, and have by no means light afforded them enough to satisfy their cmiosity, but only to regulate their life, to teach tliem their duty, and encourage them in the careful discharge of it; I say, if we were to suppose this somewhat of a general true account of tlie degi'ees of moral and religious light and evidence which were intended to be afforded mankind, and of what has actually been and is their situation in their moral and re- hgious capacity ; there would be nothing in all this ignor- ance, doubtfulness, and uncertainty, in all these varieties and supposed disadvantages of some in comparison of otliers, respecting religion, but may be paralleled by manifest analogies in the natural dispensations of Providence at pre- sent, and considering ourselves merely in our temporal capacity. Nor is there anything shocking in all this, or which would seem to bear hard upon tlie moral administration in nature, if we would really keep in mind, that every one shall be dealt equitably with : instead of forgetting tliis, or explaining it away, after it is acknowledged in words ^ All shadow of injustice, and indeed all harsh appeai^ances, in tills various economy of Providence, would be lost, if we would keep in mind, that every merciful allowance shall be made, and no more be required of any one, than what might have been equitably expected of him, from the circumstances in which he was placed : and not w^hat might have been expected had he been placed in other circumstances : i. e., in Scripture language, that eveiy man shall be accej^ted according to what he had, not according to what he had ' We are thus to guard against two possible false inferences from what has been stated above. First, it is not implied that all men's religious con- dition is equally advantageous. Secondly, the fact that some are in a less advantageous religious condition than others is no reason why they should not endeavour themselves, and others for them to improve their condition. 26*2 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PT. H not ^ This, however, doth not by any means imply, that all persons' condition here is equally advantageous with respect to futurity. And Providence's designing to place some in greater dai^kness with respect to religious knowledge, is no more a reason why they should not endeavour to get out of that darkness, and others to bring them out of it, than why ignorant and slow people, in matters of other know- ledge, should not endeavour to learn, or should not be instructed. It is not unreasonable to suppose, that the same wise and good principle, whatever it was, which disposed the Author of Nature to make different kinds and orders of creatm-es, disposed him also to place creatures of like kinds in differ- ent situations : and that the same principle which disposed him to make creatures of different moral capacities, disposed him also to place creatures of like moral capacities in differ- ent religious situations ; and even the same creatures in different periods of their being. And the account or reason of this is also most probably the account why the constitu- tion of things is such as that creatures of moral natures or capacities, for a considerable part of that duration in which they are living agents, are not at all subjects of morality and religion, but gTow up to be so, and grow up to be so more and more gradually from childhood to mature age. What, in particular, is the account or reason of these things, we must be greatly in the dark, were it only that we know so very little even of our own case~. Our present state may possibly be the consequence of somewhat past, which we are wholly ignorant of, as it has a reference to somewhat to come, of which we know scarce any more than is necessaiy for practice. A system, or constitution, in its notion, implies variety ; and so complicated a one as this world, very great variety. So that were revelation imiversal, yet, from men's different capacities of understanding, from the different lengths of tlieir lives, their different educations and other external circimistances, and from their difference ' 2 Cor. viii. 12. '■^ To expect a distinct comprehensive view of the whole subject, clear of difficulties and objections, is to forget our nature and condition, neither of which admit of such knowledge with respect to any science whatever ; and to inquire with this expectation is not to inquire as a man, but as one of another ordei of creatures. — Butlers Sermon on the Ignorance of Man, {Ed.) CH. VI.] SUPPOSED DEFIClENflY TN ITS PROOF. 203 of temper and bodily constitution ; their religious situations would be widely different, and the disadvantage of some in comparison of others, perhaps, altogether as much as at pre- sent. And the true account, whatever it be, why mankind, or such a part of mankind, are placed in this condition of ignorance, must be supposed also the true account of our further ignorance in not knowing the reasons why, or whence it is, that they are placed in this condition. But the follow- ing practical reflections may deserve the serious consider- ation of those persons who think the circumstances of man- kind or their own, in the forementioned respects, a gi'ound of complaint. First. The evidence of religion not appearing obvious, may constitute one particular part of some men's trial in the religious sense ; as it gives scope for a virtuous exercise, or vicious neglect of their understandmg, in examining or not examining into that evidence. There seems no possible reason to be given, why we may not be in a state of moral probation, with regard to tlie exercise of our understanding upon the subject of religion, as we are with regard to om' behaviour in common affairs. The former is as much a thing within our power and choice as the latter. And I suppose it is to be laid down for certain, that the same character, the same inward principle, which, after a man is convinced of the truth of religion, renders him obedient to the precepts of it, would, were he not thus convinced, set him about an examination of it, upon its system and evi- dence being offered to his thoughts ; and that in the latter state his examination would be with an impartiality, serious- ness, and solicitude, proportionable to what his obedience is in the former. Arid as inattention, negligence, want of all serious concern, about a matter of such a natm^e and such importance, when offered to men's consideration, is, before a distinct conviction of its truth, as real immoral depraiity and dissoluteness, as neglect of religious practice after such conviction ; so active solicitude about it, and fair impartial consideration of its evidence, before such con- viction, is as . really an exercise of a morally right temper, as is religious practice after. Thus, that religion is not intuitively tnie, but a matter of deduction and inference ; that a conviction of its truth is not forced upon every one^ but left to be, by some, collected with heedful attention to 264 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PT. U, premises ; this as much constitutes reUgious probation, aa much affords sphere, scope, opportiuiity, for right and wrong behaviour, as anything whatever does. And their manner of treating this subject, when laid before them, shows what is in their heart, and is an exertion of it. Secondly. It appears to be a thing as evident, though it is not so much attended to, that if, upon consideration of rehgion, the evidence of it should seem to any persons doubtful, in the highest supposable degi'ee, even this doubtful evidence will, however, put them into a general state of j^robation in the moral and religious sense K For, suppose a man to be really in doubt whether such a person had not done him the greatest favour; or, whether his whole temporal interest did not depend upon that person : no one, who had any sense of gratitude and of prudence, could possibly consider himself in the same situation, with regard to such person, as if he had no such doubt. In truth, it is as just to say that certainty and doubt are the same, as to say the situations now mentioned would leave a man as entirely at liberty in point of gratitude or pru- dence, as he would be were he certain he had received no favom' from such person, or that he no way depended upon him. And thus, though the evidence of religion which is afforded to some men should be little more than that they ai-e given to see the system of Christianity, or religion in general, to be supposable and credible, this ought in all reason to beget a serious practical apprehension that it may be true. And even this will afford matter of exercise for religious suspense and deliberation, for moral resolution and self-government; because the apprehension that re- ligion may be tnie does as really lay men under obligations as a full conviction tliat it is true. It gives occasion and motives to consider further tlie important subject, to pre- serve attentively upon their minds a general implicit sense that they may be under divine moral government, an awful solicitude about religion, whetlier natural or revealed. Such apprehension ought to tmii men s eyes to eveiy degree of new light which may be had, from whatever side it comes ; ' The supposed deficiency (even if it lead to the highest degree of doubt) III the evidence of revelation may constitute a general moral probation, fol sveii the highest degree of religious doubt concerning the evidence of revela> lion imposes the practical obligationa of religious deliberation. — {W) OH. VI,] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PnOOF. 265 aiid induce them to refrain, in the mean time, from all immoralities, and live in the conscientious practice of every common virtue. Especially are they bound to keep at the gi-eatest distance from all dissolute profaneness, for this the veiy nature of the case forbids, and to treat with highest reverence a matter upon which their own whole interest and being, and the fate of nature, depend. This beha- viour, and an active endeavour to maintain within them- selves this temper, is the business, the duty, and the wisdom of those persons who complain of the doubtfulness of re- ligion ; is what they are under the most proper obligations to ', and such behaviour is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve in them that character which the practice of all the several duties of religion, from a full conviction of its truth, is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve in others : others, I say, to whom God has afforded such conviction. Nay, considering the infinite importance of religion, revealed as well as natural, I think it may be said in general, that whoever will weigh the matter thoroughly, may see there is not near so much difference, as is commonly imagined, between what ought in reason to be the rule of life, to those persons who are fully convinced of its truth, and to those who have only a serious doubting apprehension that it may be tiTie. Their hopes, and fears, and obligations, will be in various degrees ; but as the subject-matter of their hopes and fears is the same, so the subject-matter of their obligations, what they are bound to do and to refrain from, is not so very unlike. It is to be observed further, that, from a character of understanding, or a situation of influence in the world, some persons have it in tlieir power to do infinitely more harm or good, by setting an example of profaneness and avowed dis- regard to all religion, or, on the contrary, of a serious, though perhaps doubting, apprehension of its truth, and of a reve- rend regard to it under this doubtfulness, than they can do ' For would it not be madness for a man to forsake a safe road, and prefer to it one in which he acknowledges there is an even chance, likewise, of his going safe through it] Yet there are people absurd enough to take the supposed doubtfulness of religion for the same thing as a proof of its falsehood, after they have concluded it doubtful, from having it often called in question. This shows how infinitely unreasonable sceptical men are with regard to religion, and that they really lay aside their reason upon this sub« ject as much as the most extravagant enthusiasts, — Butler » Charge. {Ed.) a66 EEVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL I ^PT. II. by acting well or ill in all the common intercourses amongst mankind. And consequently they are most highly account- able for a behaviour, which, they may easily foresee, is of such importance, and in which there is most plainly a right and a wrong, even admitting the evidence of reUgion to be as doubtful as is pretended. The ground of these observations, and that which renders tliem just and true, is that doubting^ necessarily implies some degree of e\ddence for that of which we doubt. For no person would be m doubt concerning the truth of a num- ber of facts so and so circumstanced, which should accident- ally come into his thoughts, and of which he had no evi- dence at all. And though in the case of an even chance, and where consequently we were in doubt, we should in common language say that we had no evidence at all for either side ; yet that situation of things, which renders it an even chance and no more, that such an event will happen, renders this case equivalent to all others, where there is such evidence on both sides of a question^, as leaves the mind in doubt concerning the truth. Indeed in all these cases, there is no more evidence on one side than on the other ; but there is (what is equivalent to) much more for either, than for the truth of a number of facts, which come into one's thoughts at random. And thus, in all tliese cases, doubt as much presupposes evidence, lower degTees of evi- dence, as belief presupposes higher, and certainty higher still. Any one who will a little attend to the nature of evidence, will easily caiTy this observation on, and see that between no evidence at all, and that degree of it which atfords gi'ound of doubt, there are as many intermediate degrees, as there are between that degree which is the ground of doubt and demonstration. And though we have not faculties to distinguish these degi'ees of evidence with any sort of exactness, yet, in proportion as they are dis- cerned, they ought to influence our practice. For it is as real an imperfection in the moral character, not to be ' *' Do^Ming" s a relative term, and implies only that a preponderance of eTidence is against a fact or position. In this is clearly implied that there is OE. the other side some amount of evidence, greater or smaller ; and if so, this evidence, whatever its weight may be, has a fair claim to be taken iato Mcount. — Ed. * Introduction. CH. VI.J SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY JN ITS PROOF. 267 influenced in practice by a lower degi'ee of evidence when discerned, as it is in the understanding not to discern it. And as, in all subjects which men consider, they discern the lower as well as higher degrees of evidence, proportionably to their capacity of understanding : so, in practical subjects, they are influenced in practice by the lower as well as higher degi^ees of it, proportionably to their fairness and honesty. And as, in proportion to defects in the under standing, men are unapt to see lower degrees of evidence, ai'e in darger of overlooking evidence when it is not glaring, and are easily imposed upon in such cases ; so, in propor tion to the coiTuption of the heai't, they seem ca}iable of satisfying themselves with having no regard in practice to evidence acknowledged real, if it be not overbearing. From these things it must follow, that doubting concerning religion imphes such a degree of evidence for it, as, joined with the consideration of its importance, unquestionably lays men under the obligations before mentioned, to have a dutiful regard to it in all tlieir behaviour. Thirdly. The difficulties in which the evidence of reli- gion is involved, which some complain of, is no more a just ground of complaint, than the external circumstances of temptation which others ai^e placed in, or than diffi- culties in the practice of it, after a full conviction of its tiiith. Temptations render our state a more improving state of discipline', tlian it would be otherwise: as they give occasion for a more attentive exercise of the vir- tuous principle, which confirms and strengthens it, more than an easier or less attentive exercise of it could. Now speculative difficulties are, in this respect, of the very same natm^e with these external temptations. For tlie evidence of religion not appealing obvious is to some persons a temptation to reject it, without any consider- ation at all ; and therefore requires such an attentive exer- cise of the virtuous principle, seriously to consider that evidence, as there would be no occasion for, but for such temptation. And the supposed doubtfulness of its evi- dence, after it has been in some sort considered, affords opportunity to an unfair mind of explaining away, and deceitfully hiding from itself, that evidence which it might see; and also for men's encouraging themselves in vice, ' Part I. chap. v. 2C8 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PT. 11. from hopes of impunity, though they do cleaily see thug much at least, that these hopes are uncertain: in hke manner as the common temptation to many instances of folly, which end in temporal infamy and ruin, is the ground for hope of not being detected, and of escaping with impunity; i. e., the doubtfulness of the proof before- hand, that such foolish behaviour will thus end in infamy and ruin. On the contrary, supposed doubtfulness in the evidence of religion calls for a more careful and attentive exercise of the virtuous principle, in fairly yielding them- selves up to the proper influence of any real evidence, though doubtful ; and in practising conscientiously all virtue, though under some uncertainty, whetlier the government in the universe may not possibly be such, as that vice may escape with impunity. And in general, temptation, meaning by this word the lesser allurements to ^vrong and difficulties in the discharge of our duty, as well as the greater ones ; temptation, I say, as such and of every kind and degree, as it calls forth some virtuous efforts, additional to what would otherwise have been wanting, cannot but be an additional discipline and improvement of virtue, as well as probation of it in the other senses of that word K So that the very same account is to be given, why the evidence of religion should be left in such a maimer, as to require, in some, an attentive, solicitous, perhaps painful exercise of their under- standing about it ; as why others should be placed in such circumstances, as tliat the practice of its common duties, after a full conviction of the truth of it, should require at- tention, solicitude, and pains ; or, why appearing doubtfulness should be permitted to afl'ord matter of temptation to some ; as why external difficulties and allurements should be per mitted to afl'ord matter of temptation to otliers -. The same account also is to be given, why some should be exercised with temptations of both these kinds ; as why otliers should De exercised with the latter in such very high degrees, as some have been, paiticularly as the primitive Christians were. ' Part I., chap, iv., and p. 160, ^ Since temptation, of whatever kind (inasmuch as it calls forth virtuous efforts), cannot but conduce to moral discipline and improvement, the same reason is to be given why the deficiency in the evidence of religion should be an intellectual temptation to some, as why difficulties in the practice oi religion should be a practical tern tation and consequent virtuous disciplica to others.— (fF.) en, VI. J SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 269 Nor does there appear any absurdity in supposing, that the speculative difficulties, in which the evidence of rehgion is invoh'ed, may make even the principal part of some per- sons' trial. For as the chief temptations of the generality of the world are the ordinary motives to injustice or un restrained pleasure ; or to live in the neglect of religion from that frame of mind, which renders many persons almost without feeling as to anything distant, or which is not the object of their senses : so there are other persons without this shallowness of temper, persons of a deeper sense as to what is invisible and future ; who not only see, but have a general practical feeling, that what is to come will be pre- sent, and that things are not less real for their not being the objects of sense; and who, from their natural constitu tion of body and of temper, and from their external con dition, may have small temptations to behave ill, small difficulty in behaving well, in the common course of life. Now when these latter persons have a distinct full conviction of the truth of religion, without any possible doubts or dif- ficulties, the practice of it is to them unavoidable, imless they will do a constant violence to their own minds ; and religion is scarce any more a discipline to them, than it is to creatures in a state of perfection. Yet these persons may possibly stand in need of moral discipline and exercise in a higher degree, than they would have by such an easy prac- tice of religion. Or it may be requisite, for reasons unknown to us, that they should give some further manifestation' what is their moral character, to the creation of God, than such a practice of it would be. Thus in the great variety of religious situations in which men are placed, what con stitutes, what chiefly and peculiarly constitutes, the probation, in all senses, of some persons, may be the difficulties in which the evidence of religion is involved ; and their prin- cipal and distinguished trial may be, how they will behave under and with respect to these difficulties. Circumstances in men s situation in their temporal capacity, analogous in good measm^e to this respecting religion, are to be obsei^ved. We find some persons are placed in such a situation in tlie world, as that their chief difficulty with regard to conduct, is not the doing what is prudent when it is known ; for tliis, in numberless cases, is, as easy as the contrary; but to soma ' P, 160. 270 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PT. O. the principal exercise is recollection and being upon their guard against deceits, the deceits suppose of those about them ; against false appeai-ances of reason and prudence. To persons in some situations, the principal exercise with respect to conduct is, attention in order to inforai them- selves what is proper, what is really the reasonable and prudent part to act. But as I have hitherto gone upon supposition, that men's dissatisfaction with the evidence of religion is not owing to tlieir neglects or prejudices ; it must be added, on the other hand, in all common reason, and as what the truth of the case plainly requires should be added, that such dissatisfac- tion possibly may be owing to those, possibly may be men's own fault ^ For, If there are any persons who never set themselves heartily and in earnest to be informed in religion ; if there are any who secretly wish it may not prove true ; and are less attentive to e\idence than to difficulties, and more to ol>jections than to what is said in answer to them : these persons will scarce be thought in a likely way of seeing the evidence of religion, though it were most certainly true, and capable of being ever so fully proved. If any accustom themselves to consider this subject usually in the way of mirth and sport ; if they attend to forms and representations, and inadequate maimers of expression, instead of the real things intended by them ; (for signs often can be no more than inadequately espressive of the things signified ;) or if they substitute human errors in the room of divine truth ; why may not aU, or any of these things, hinder some men from seeing that evidence, which really is seen by othei^ ; as a like turn of mind, with respect to matters of common speculation and practice, does, we find by experience, hinder them from attaining that knowledge and right understand- ing, in matters of common speculation and practice, which more fair and attentive minds attain to^? And the effect will be the same, whether their neglect of seriously con- ' The preceding arguments have gone on the supposition that men's dis- Eatisfaction with the evidence of revelation does not proceed from their owTi vices and prejudices, and is not their own fault. But possibly, after all, the fault may lie in the objector, not in the thing objected to, — (IF.) This ie what Butler goes on to consider here.— ^c?. ^ The internal evidence of religion seems chiefly to have been intended as a means of moral probation. See St. John viL 17 £d. CH. Tl.] SUPPOSED DEFICIENCT IN ITS PBOOF. 271 sidering the evidence of religion, and their indirect behaviour with regard to it, proceed from mere carelessness, or from the gi'osser vices ; or whether it be owing to this, that forms and figurative manners of expression, as well as errors, administer occasions of ridicule, when the things intended, and the truth itself, would not. Men may mdulge a ludicrous turn so far as to lose all sense of conduct and prudence in worldly affairs, and even, as it seems, to impair their faculty of reason. And in general, levity, careless- ness, passion, and prejudice do hinder us from being rightly informed, with respect to common things ; and they maij, in like manner, and perhaps in some further providential manner, with reepect to moral and religious subjects ; may hinder evidence from being laid before us, and from being seen when it is. The Scripture * does declare, that eveij one shall not understand. And it makes no difference, by what providential conduct this comes to pass : whether the evidence of Christianity was, originally and with design, put and left so, as that those who are deshous of evading moral obligations should not see it; and that honest-minded persons should : or whether it comes to pass by any other means. Fuiiher: the general proof of natural rehgion and of Christianity does, I think, lie level to common men ; even those, the gi-eatest part of whose time, from childhood to old age, is taken up with providing for themselves and their famihes the common conveniences, perhaps necessaries, of life : those, I mean, of this rank who ever think at all of asking after proof, or attending to it. Common men, were they as much in earnest about religion as about their tem- poral affairs, are capable of being convinced, upon real evi- dence, that there is a God who governs the world, and they feel themselves to be of a moral nature, and accountable crea- tures. And as Christianity entirely falls in with this their natural sense of things, so they are capable, not only of " Dan. xii. 10. See also Isa. xxix. 13, 14. Matt. vi. 23, and xi. 25, and xiii. 11, 12. John iii. 19, and v. 44. 1 Cor. ii. 14, and 2 Cor. iv. 4. 2 Tim. iii. 13 ; and that affectionate as well as anthoritative admonition, so very many times inculcated, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. Grotius saw so strongly the thing intended in these and other passages of Bcripture of the like sense, as to say that the proof given us of Christianity was less than it might have heen, for this very purpose : Ut ita sermo Evan^ flii tanquam lapis esset Lydius ad quem ingenia sanabilia explorarentur, he Yer. E. C. lib. ii. towards the end. 272 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PT. TL being persuaded, but of being made to see, that theie is evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of it, and many appearing completions of prophecy. But though tliis proof is real and conclusive, yet it is liable to objections, and may be run up into difficulties, which, however, persons who are capable not only of talking of, but of really seeing, are ca- pable also of seeing through : i. e., not of clearing up and answering them, so as to satisfy their curiosity, for of such knowledge we ai^e not capable witli respect to any one thing in nature ; but capable of seeing that tlie proof is not lost in these difficulties, or destroyed by these objections. But then a thorough examination into religion with regard to these objections, which cannot be the business of every man, is a matter of pretty large compass, and, from the na- ture of it, requires some knowledge, as well as time and attention ; to see how the evidence comes out, upon balanc- ing one thing with another, and what, upon the whole, is the amount of it. Now, if persons who have picked up these objections from others, and take for gi-anted they are of weight, upon the word of those from whom they received them, or, by often retailing of them, come to see or fancy they see tliem to be of weight ; will not prepare themselves for such an examination, with a competent degi'ee of know- ledge ; or will not give that time and attention to the subject which, from tlie nature of it, is necessary for attaining such information ; in this case they must remain in doubtfulness, ignorance, or eiTor: in the same way as they must, with regard to common sciences and matters of common life, if they neglect the necessaiy means of being informed in them. But still perhaps it will be objected, that if a prince or common master were to send directions to a serv^ant, he would take care that they should always bear the certain mai'ks who they came from, and that their sense should be always plain : so as that there should be no possible doubt, if he could help it, concerning the authority or meaning of them. Now, the proper answer to all this kind of objec- tions is, that, wherever the fallacy lies, it is even certain we cannot argue thus witli respect to Him who is the governor of the world : and particularly that he does not afford us Buch information, with respect to our temporal affairs and interests, as experience abundantly shows. However, there CH. Vl.J SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PKOOF. 275 is a full answer to this objection', from the very nature of reUgioii. For, the reason why a prince would give his di- rections in this plain manner is, that he absolutely desires such an external action should be done, without concerning himself with the motive or principle upon which it is done : i. e., he regai'ds only the external event, or tlie thing's being done, and not at all, properly speaking, the doing of it or the action. Whereas, the whole of morality and religion consisting merely in action itself, there is no sort of parallel between the cases. But if the prince be supposed to regard only the action ; i. e., only to desire to exercise, or in any sense prove, the understanding or loyalty of a sen^ant ; he would not always give his orders in such a plain manner. It may be proper to add, that the will of God, respecting morality and religion, may be considered either as absolute, or as only conditional If it be absolute, it can only be tlius, that we should act virtuously in such given circumstances ; not that we should be brought to act so by his changing of our circumstances. And if God's will be thus absolute, then it is in our power, in the highest and strictest sense, to do or to contradict his will ; which is a most weighty con- sideration. Or his will may be considered only as condi- tional, that if we act so and so, we shall be rewarded ; if otherwise, punished : of which conditional will of the Au- thor of Natm-e, the whole constitution of it affords most certain instances. Upon the whole : that we are in a state of rehgion neces- sarily implies that we are in a state of probation : and the credibility of our being at all in such a state being admitted, there seems no peculiar difficulty in supposing our proba- tion to be, just as it is in those respects which are above objected against. There seems no pretence, from the reason of the thing, to say that the trial cannot equitably be any- thing, but whether persons will act suitably to certain in- formation, or such as admits no room for doubt ; so as tliat there can be no danger of miscarriage, but either from tlieir not attending tq what they certainly know, or from over- bearing passion hurrying them on to act contrary to it. • This objection may be answered directly and indirectly — (1.) God does not) look to mere outward act, as an earthly master, but to action and iM motive. (2.) The will of God is either absolute or conditional : and wheth«« \t be the former or the latter, tae objection vanishes. — Ed, T 27^ BEVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL. [PT. 11. For, Since ignorance and doubt afford scope for probation in all senses, as really as intuitive conviction or certainty: and since the two fonner are to be put to the same account as difficulties in practice, men's moral probation may also be, whether they wiU take due care to infoiTu themselves by impartial consideration, and afterwards whether they will act as the case requires upon the evidence which they have, however doubtful. And this, we find by experience, is fre- quently our probation ^ in our temporal capacity. For the information which we want with regard to our worldly in- terests is by no means always given us of course, with- out any care of our own. And we are greatly liable to self-deceit from inward secret prejudices, and sdso to tlie deceits of otliers. So that to be able to judge what is the prudent part often requires much and difficult consider- ation. Then, after we have judged the very best we can, tlie evidence upon which we must act, if we will live and act at all, is perpetually doubtful to a veiy high degree. And the constitution and com^se of the world in fact is such, as that w^ant of impartial consideration what we have to do, and venturing upon extravagant courses because it is doubtful what will be the consequence, are often natu- rally, i. e., providentially, altogether as fatal, as misconduct occasioned by heedless inattention to what we certainly know, or disregarding it from overbearing passion. Several of tiie observations here made may well seem strange, perhaps uninteUigible, to many good men. But if the persons for whose sake they are made think so ; per- sons who object as above, and throw off all regard to reli- gion under pretence of want of e^ddence ; I desire them to consider again, whether their thinking so be owing to any thing unintelligible in these observations, or to their o\vn not having such a sense of religion and serious solicitude about it, as even their state of scepticism does in all reason require? It ought to be forced upon tlie reflection of these persons, that our natm'e and condition necessarily require us, m the daily course of life, to act upon evidence much lower than what is commonly called probable ; to guard, not only against what we fully believe will, but also against what we think it supposable may, happen ; and to engage in pm-suits when the probability is gi*eatly against » Pp. 113, 266, &c. CH. VIT.J THE PAETICULAR EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 275 success, if it be credible, that possibly we may succeed in them. CHAPTER VII. OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY ^ The presumptions against revelation, and objections against the general scheme of Christianity, and particular things relatiug to it, being removed; there remains to be con- sidered what positive evidence we have for the truth of it ; chiefly in order to see what the analogy of nature suggests with regard to that evidence, and the objections against it : or to see what is, and is allowed to be, the plain natiu*al rule of judgment and of action in our temporal concerns, in cases where we have the same kind of evidence, and the same kiud of objections against it, that we have in the case before us. Now in the evidence of Christianity there seem to be several things of great weight not reducible to the head, either of miracles, or the completion of prophecy, in the common acceptation of the words. But these two are its direct and fundamental proofs ; and those other things, however considerable they are, yet ought never to be urged apart from its direct proofs, but always to be joined with them. Thus the evidence of Christianity will be a long series of things, reaching, as it seems, from the beginning of the world to the present time, of great variety and compass, taking in both the direct and also the collateral, proofs, and making up, all of them together, one argu- ment; the conviction arising from which kind of proof may be compared to what they call the effect m ai'chi- tecture or other works of ail; a result from a great number of things so and so disposed, and taken into one view. I shall therefore, ^rs(, make some observations ' Having answered objections against a revelation in the abstract, and also against the Christian revelation, both generally and particularly, Butler pro- ceeds to the consideration of the positive evidence in favour of Christianity, \rith the objections against that evidence. The subject is divided into — (1.) The direct evidence for Christianity from miracles and the completion of prophecy, with objections against that vidence. (2.) The general argument for the truth of Christianity, consisting both of the direct and collateral evi» dence^ considered as making up one argument. — i W^ T 2 S76 OF THE PABTICULAR EVIDENCE [PT. U. relating to miracles, and the appearing completions of prophecy ; and consider what analog}' suggests in answer to the objections brought against this evidence. And, secondly^ I shall endeavour to give some account of the general ai'gu- ment now mentioned, consisting both of the direct and collateral evidence, considered as making up one argument ; this being the kind of proof upon which we determine most questions of difficulty concerning common facts, alleged to have happened, or seeming likely to happen ; especially questions relating to conduct. First. I shall make some obsenations upon the direct proof of Christianity from miracles and prophecy, and upon the objections alleged against it. I. Now the following observations relating to the his- torical evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of Chris- tianity appear to be of gi-eat weight. 1. The Old Testament affords us the same historical evidence of the miracles of Moses and of the prophets, as of the common civil histoiy of Moses and the kings of Israel, or as of the affairs of the Jewish nation. And the Gospels and the Acts afford us the same historical evidence of the miracles of Christ and the Apostles, as of the common matters related in them. This, indeed, could not have been affirmed by any reasonable man, if the authors of these books, like many other historians, had appeared to make an entertaining manner of writing their aim, though they had interspersed miracles in their works, at proper distances and upon proper occasions. These might have animated a dull relation, amused the reader, and engaged his attention. And tlie same account would naturally have been given of them, as of the speeches and descriptions of such authors : the same account, in a manner, as is to be given, why the poets made use of wonders and prodigies. But the facts, both miraculous and natural, in Scripture, are related in plain unadorned narratives ; and both of tliem appear, in all respects, to stand upon the same foot of historical evidence. Furtlier : some parts of Scripture con- taining an account of miracles fully sufficient to prove the truth of Christianity, are quoted as genuine, from the age in which they are said to be written, down to the present: and no other parts of them, material in the present question, are omitted to be quoted in such manner as to afford any CM. Yll.J FOR CHRISTIANlTi; 277 sort of proof of their not being genuine. And. as common history, when called in question in any instance, may often be greatly confirmed by contemporary or subsequent events more known and acknowledged : and as the common Scripture history, like many others, is thus confirmed, so likswise is the miraculous history of it, not only in pai'- ticular instances, but in general. For, the establishment of the Jemsh and Christian religions, which were events con- temporary with the mhacles related to be wi'ought in attesta- tion of both, or subsequent to them, these events are just what we should have expected, upon supposition such miracles were really wrought to attest the truth of those religions. These miracles are a satisfactory account of those events : of which no other satisfactory account can be given ; nor any account at all but what is imaginaiy merely, and invented. It is to be added, that the most obvious, the most easy and direct account of this histoiy, how it came to be written and to be received in the world as a ti'ue history, is, that it really is so : nor can any other account of it be easy and direct. Now, though an account, not at all obvious, but very far-fetched and indirect, may indeed be, and often is, the true account of a matter, yet it cannot be admitted on the authority of its being asserted. Mere guess, supposition, and possibility, when opposed to his- torical evidence, prove nothing, but that historical evidence is not demonstrative. Now the just consequence from all this, I think, is, that tlie Scripture-history in general is to be admitted as an au- thentic genuine history, till somewhat positive be alleged sufficient to invahdate it^ But no man will deny the conse- quence to be, that it cannot be rejected, or thrown by as of no authority, till it can be proved to be of none ; even though the evidence now mentioned for its authority were doubtful. This evidence may be confronted by historical evidence on the other side, if there be any ; or general incredibility in the things related, or inconsistence in the general tmn of the history, would prove it to be of no > Upon the principles of moral evidence laid down at the opening of the Preface to the Analogy, this testimony in favour of the miraculous history of Scripture must be admitted until something positive be proved against it. — (ir.) In other words, until the balance of evidence be proved to prepon* derate on the other side. — Ed. 278 OF THE PAKTICULAR EVIDENCE [PT. II. authority. But since, upon the face of the matter, upon a first and general view, the appearance is, that it is an authentic history ; it cannot be determined to be fictitious without some proof that it is so. And the following obser- vations in support of these, and coincident with tliem, will greatly confinn the historicsd evidence for the truth of Christianity. •2. The Epistles of St. Paul, from tlie nature of epistolary writing, and, moreover, from several of them being written, not to particular persons, but to churches, carry in them evidences of then- being genuine, beyond what can be in a mere historical narrative, left to the world at large. This evidence, joined with that which they have in common with the rest of the New Testament, seems not to leave so much as any particular pretence for denying their genuineness, considered as an ordinary matter of fact, or of criticism : I say particular pretence for denying it; because any single fact, of such a kind and such antiquity, may have general doubts raised concerning it, from the very nature of human affairs and human testimony. There is also to be men- tioned a distinct and particular evidence of the genuineness of the epistle chiefly refen^ed to here, the fii'st to the Corinthians; from the manner in which it is quoted by Clemens Romanus, in an epistle of his own to that church ^ Now these epistles afford a proof of Christianity, detached from all others, which is, I think, a thing of weight ; and also a proof of a nature and kind pecuhar to itself For, In them the author declares, that he received the Gospel in general, and the institution of the Communion in par- ticular, not from the rest of the Apostles, or jointly together with them, but alone, from Christ himself; whom he de- clares likewise, confomiably to the history in the Acts, that he saw after his ascension - : so that the testimony of St. Paul is to be considered as detached from that of the rest of the Apostles And he declares further, that he was endued witli a power of working miracles, as what was publicly known to those very people, speaks of frequent and great variety of miraculous gifts as then subsisting in those very churches to which he was writing; which he was reproving for several ' Clem. Rom. Ep. 1, c. 47. 2 Gal. i. ; 1 Cor. xi. 23, &c. ; 1 Cor. xv. 8. CH. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY -STO irregularities ; and where he had personal opposers : he mentions these gifts incidentally, in the most easy manner, and without effort; by way of reproof to those who had them, for their indecent use of them ; and by way of de- preciating them, in comparison of moral virtues : in short, he spealvS of these churches, of these miraculous powers, in the manner any one would speak to another of a thing, which was as familiar, and as much known in common to them both, as anything in the worlds And this, as hath been observed by several persons, is surely a very considerable thing. 3. It is an acknowledged historical fact, that Christianity offered itself to the world, and demanded to be received, upon the allegation, i. e., as unbelievers would speak; upon tlie pretence, of miracles, publicly wrought to attest the truth of it in such an age ; and that it was actually re- ceived by gi^eat numbers in that veiy age, and upon the professed belief of the reality of these miracles. And Christianity, including the dispensation of the Old Testa- ment, seems distinguished by this from all other religions. [ mean, that this does not appear to be the case with regaled to any other; for surely it will not be supposed to lie upon any person to prove by positive historical evidence that it was not. It does in no sort appear that Mahometanism was first received in the world upon the foot of s-upposed miracles^, i.e., public ones: for, as revelation is itself miraculous, all pretence to it must necessarily imply some pretence of miracles -K And it is a known fact, that • Rom. XV. 19 ; 1 Cor. xii. 8, 9, 10-28, &c., and xiii. 1, 2, 8, and the whole xivth chapter; 2 Cor. xii. 12, 13; Gal. iii. 2, 5. - See the Koran, ch. xiii. and ch. xvii. ^ Mahomet neither claimed nor disclaimed the power of miracles. "When pressed to give this proof of his mission, he involves himself in the obscure boast of vision and prophecy, appeals to the internal proofs of his doctrine, and shields himself behind the providence of God, who refuses these signs and wonders, which would depreciate the merit of faith, and aggravate the guilt of infidelity. . . . The passages in the Koran which deny his miracles are clear and positive ; and those that seem to assert them are ambiguous and insufficient.— (?{6io?i'5 Decline and Fall, ch. 50, and note 96. This was all that Mahomet pretended to — " The Koran itself is a miracle." So far was he from claiming to himself the working of public miracles, that he declared he did not work them, since those wrought by others, the Pro- phctB, Apostles, and Jesus Christ, failed to bring conviction with them. — {H.', ^anak, the founder of the Sikhs, never pretended to work miracles, but d» 280 OF THE PARTICULAK EVIDENCE [PT. It. it was immediately, at the very first, propagated by other means. And as particular institutions, whether in Paganism or Popeiy, said to be confirmed by miracles after those in- stitutions had obtained, are not to the purpose : so, were there what might be called historical proof, that any of them were introduced by a supposed divine command, believed to be attested by miracles ; these would not be in any wise parallel. For single things of this sort are easy to be ac- counted for, after parties are formed, and have power in their hands ; and the leaders of them are in veneration with the multitude ; and political interests are blended with religious claims and religious distinctions. But before anything of tliis kind, for a few persons, and those of the lowest rank, all at once, to bring over such numbers to a new religion, and get it to be received upon the particular evidence of miracles ; this is quite another thing. And I think it will be allowed by any fair adversaiy, that the fact now men- tioned, taking in all the circumstances of it, is peculiar to the Christian religion. However, the fact itself is allowed, tliat Christianity obtained, i. e., was professed to be received in tlie world, upon the belief of miracles, immediately in the age in which it is said those miracles were wrought : or that this is what its first converts would have alleged, as the reason for tlieir embracing it. Now certainly it is not to be supposed that such numbers of men, in the most distant parts of the world, should forsake the religion of their countiy, hi which tliey had been educated ; separate them- selves from tlieh friends, particularly in their festival shows and solemnities, to which the common people are so greatly addicted, and which were of a nature to engage them much more than anything of that sort amongst us ; and embrace a religion, which could not but expose them to many incon- veniences, and indeed must have been a giving up the world in a great degree, even from the very first, and before the empire engaged in form against them : it cannot be supposed, that such numbers should make so great, and, to say the least, so inconvenient a change in then whole in- stitution of life, unless they were reaily convinced of the rided those who did, as derivhig power from evil spirits. When urged to pive a miraculous procf of his mission, he replied, " I have nothing to exhibit worthy of you to behold. A holy teacher has no defence but the purity oi his doctrine; the world may change, but the Creator is unchangeable!" — t'ol. Malcolm's Shtch of the Sikhs, pp. 17, 21. ^£d.) CE. Vn.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 281 truth of those miracles upon the knowledge or belief of which they professisd to make it. And it will, I suppose, readily be acknowledged, that the generality of the first converts to Christianity must have believed them : that as by becoming Christians they declared to the world, they were satisfied of the truth of those miracles ; so this de- claration was to be credited. And this their testimony is tlie same kind of evidence for those miracles, as if they had put it in wi'iting, and these writings had come down to us. And it is real evidence, because it is of facts, which they had capacity and full opportunity to inform themselves of. It is also distinct from the direct or express historical evidence, though it is of the same kind : and it would be allowed to be distinct in all cases. For were a fact expressly related by one or more ancient historians, and disputed in after ages ; that this fact is acknowledged to have been believed by great numbers of the age in which the historian says it was done, would be allowed an additional proof of such fact, quite distinct from the express testimony of the historian. The credulity of mankind is acknowledged : and the suspicions of mankind ought to be acknowledged too; and their backwardness even to believe, and gi-eater still to practise, what makes against their interest. And it must particularly be remembered, that education, and pre- judice, and authority, were against Christianity, in the age I am speaking of. So that the immediate conversion of such numbers is a real presumption of somewhat more than human in this matter : I say presumption, for it is not alleged as a proof alone and by itself. Nor need any one of the things mentioned in this chapter be considered as a proof by itself: and yet all of them together may be one of the strongest ^ Upon the whole : as there is large historical evidence, both direct and circumstantial, of miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity, collected by those who have NVTit upon the subject; it lies upon unbelievers to show, why this evidence is not to be credited-. This way of ' P. 306, &c. - Clearly there can be no positive probability against miracles occurring to interrupt the ordinary course of nature, unless we had some parallel world dr system from which to argue. We are therefore, after all, left to weigh the evilence for and against them, and to judge accordingly. The positive 282 OF THE PIUTICULAR EVIDENCE [PT. H. speaking is, I think, just ; and what persons who wi'ite in defence of religion naturally fall into. Yet, in a matter of such imspeakable importance, the proper question is, not whom it lies upon, according to the rules of argument, to maintain or confute objections : but whether there really ai'e any, against this evidence, sufficient, in reason, to de- stroy Uie credit of it. However, unbelievers seem to take upon them the part of showing that there are. They allege, that numberless enthusiastic people, in different ages and countries, expose themselves to the same difficulties which the primitive Christians did; and are ready to give up their lives for the most idle follies imaginable. But it is not very clear, to what pui-pose this objection is brought. For every one, sm-ely, in every case, must distinguish between opinions and facts. And though testimony is no proof of enthusiastic opinions, or of any opinions at all ; yet it is allowed, in all otlier cases, to be a proof of facts. And a person's laying down his life in attestation of facts or of opinions, is the strongest proof of his believmg them. And if the Apostles and their con- temporaries did believe the facts, in attestation of which they exposed themselves to sufferings and death ; tliis their belief, or rather knowledge, must be a proof of those facts : for they were such as came under the oh sensation of their senses. And though it is not of equal weight, yet it is of weight, that the martyrs of the next age, notwithstanding they were not eyewitnesses of those facts, as were the Apostles and their contemporaries, had, however, full opportunity to inform themselves, whether they were true or not, and gave equal proof of their belie™g tliem to be true. But enthusiasm, it is said, greatly weakens the evidence of testimony even for facts, in matters relating to religion : evidence of facts is in their lavour. Where is the positive evidence against them? " If it be objected tliat it is rather slender ground on which to stand, merely (hat we cannot prove the contrary or the falsehood of the thing, we may- answer that it is not intended to be ground to rest on — it is intended to set us in motion, and the evidence will grow in proportion to our earnestness and sincerity to ascertain the point. Now is there not a moral fitness iu this, that evidence should be progressive, and that in proportion to the sin- •fleness of eye and the diligence with which it is sought and investigated!"— Wolfe s Remains. {Ed.) CH. Vn.J FOR CHRISTIANITT. 28^1 some seem to think it totally and absolutely destroys the e\idence of testimony upon tliis subject. Aiid indeed tho powers of enthusiasm, and of diseases too, which operate in a like manner, are veiy wonderful, in particular instances. But if great numbers of men, not appearing in any pe- culiar degi'ee weak, nor under any peculiar suspicion of negligence, affirm that they saw and heard such things plainly with their eyes and their ears, and are admitted to be in earnest ; such testimony is evidence of the strongest kind we can have, for any matter of fact. Yet possibly it 2aay be overcome, strong as it is, by incredibility in the tilings thus attested, or by contrary testimony. And in an instance where one tliought it was so overcome, it might be just to consider, how far such evidence could be accounted for, by enthusiasm ; for it seems as if no other imaginable account were to be given of it. But till such incredibility be shown, or contrary testimony produced, it cannot surely be expected, that so far fetched, so indirect and wonderful an account of such testimony, as that of enthusiasm must be an account so strange, that the generality of mankind can scarce be made to miderstand what is meant by it : it cannot, I say, be expected, that such accoimt will be admitted of such evidence ; when there is this direct, easy, and obvious account of it, that people really saw and heard a thing not incredible, which they affirm sincerely and with full assm-ance, they did see and hear. Granting then that enthusiasm is not (strictly speaking) an absurd, but a possible account of such testimony ; it is manifest, that the veiy mention of it goes upon the previous supposition, that the things so attested are incredible : and therefore need not be considered, till they are shown to be so. Much less need it be considered, after the contraiy has been proved, and I think it has been proved, to full satisfaction, that there is no incredibility in a revelation, in general ; or in such a one as the Christian, in particular. However, as religion is supposed peculiarly liable to enthusiasm, it may just be obseiTed, that prejudices almost without number, and without name, romance, affectation, humour, a desire to engage attention, or to sui^Drise, the party spirit, custom, little competitions, unaccountable likings and dislikings ; these influence men strongly in common matters. And as these prejudices are often scarce kno\vn or reflected upon by the 284 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PT. II, persons themselves who are influenced by them, they are to be considered as mfluences of a hke kind to enthusiasm. Yet human testimony in common matters is naturally and justly believed notwithstanding. It is intimated furtlier, in a more refined way of obser- vation, that though it should be proved, that the Apostles and first Christians could not, in some respects, be deceived themselves, and, in other respects, cannot be thought to have intended to impose upon the world ; yet it will not follow, that their general testimony is to be believed, though truly handed down to us : because they might still in part, i. e., in other respects, be deceived themselves, and in part also designedly impose upon others ; which, it is added, is a thing veiy credible, from that mixture of real enthusiasm, and real Imavery, to be met with in the same characters. And I must confess, I think the matter of fact contained in tliis observation upon mankind is not to be denied ; and that somewhat very much akin to it is often supposed in Scrip- ture as a very common case, and most severely reproved. But it were to have been expected, that persons capable of applying this observation as appUed in the objection, might also frequently have met with the like mixed character, in instances where religion was quite out of the case. The thing plainly is, that mankind are naturally endued with reason, or a capacity of distinguishing between tiTtth and falsehood ; and as naturally they are endued with veracity, or a regard to tnitli in what they say ; but from many occasions they are liable to be prejudiced and biassed and deceived themselves, and capable of intending to deceive others, in every different degree : insomuch that, as we are all liable to be deceived by prejudice, so likewise it seems to be not an uncommon thhig, for persons, who, from their regard to ti-uth, would not invent a lie entirely without any found- ation at all, to propagate it with heightening circumstances, after it is once invented and set agoing. And others, though they would not propagate a lie, yet, which is a lower degree of falsehood, will let it pass without contra- diction. But, notwithstanding all this, human testimony remains still a natural ground of assent ; and this assent a natural principle of action. It is objected further, tliat however it has happened, tho ^a4;t is, that mankind have, in different ages, been sti-angely CH. VII. I FOR CHRISTIANITY. ^6& deluded with pretences to miracles and wanders'. But it IS by no means to be admitted, that they have been oftener, or are at all more liable to be deceived by these pretences, tlian by others. It is added, that there is a veiy considerable degree of historical evidence for miracles, which are, on all hands, ac- knowledged to be fabulous. But suppose there were even - the like historical evidence for these, to what there is for those alleged in proof of Christianity, which yet is in no wise allowed, but suppose this ; the consequence would not be tliat the evidence of the latter is not to be admitted. Nor is there a man in the world, who, in common cases, would conclude thus. For what would such a conclusion really amount to but this, that evidence confuted by con- trary evidence, or any way overbalanced, destroys the credi- bility of other evidence, neither confuted nor overbalanced ? To argue, that because there is, if there were, like evidence from testimony, for miracles acknowledged false, as for those in attestation of Christianity, therefore the evidence in the latter case is not to be credited; this is the same as to argue, that if two men of equally good reputation had given evidence in different cases no way connected, and one of them had been convicted of perjury, this confuted the testimony of the other. Upon the whole, then, the general obsei-vation, that human creatures are so liable to be deceived, from enthu- siasm in religion, and principles equivalent to enthusiasm in common matters, and in both from negligence ; and that they are so capable of dishonestly endeavouring to deceive others; this does indeed weaken tlie evidence of testi- mony in all cases, but does not destroy it in any. And these things will appear, to difierent men, to weaken the evidence of testimony, in different degi'ees : in degrees pro- portionable to the observations they have made, or tlie notions they have any way taken up, concerning the weak- ' Counterfeit coin supposes that there is such a thing in the world as good money, and no one would pretend outwardly to be virtuous, unless some were really so. In the same manner, false miracles suppose the existence of real ones ; and the cheats that have been imposed upon the world, far from fur- nishing us with reasons to reject all miracles in general, are, on the contrarj', R strong proof that some, of which they are imitations, have been genuine, ^Dou(jlas on Miracles. {Ed.) * See Paley's Evidences, part ii., wnere the point is fully diBCUflBed,—i?c4 286 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PT. XL ness £tnd negligence and dishonesty of mankind ; or con- cerning the powers of enthusiasm, and prejudices equiva- lent to it. But it seems to me, that people do not know what tliey say, who affirm these things to destroy the evi- dence from testimony, which we have of the truth or Cliristianity. Nothing can destroy the evidence of testi mony in any case, but a proof or probabihty, that persons are not competent judges of the I'acts to which they give testimony; or that they are actually under some indirect influence in giving it, in such particular case. Till tliis be made out, the natural laws of human actions require, that testimony be admitted. It can never be sufficient to over- throw direct historical evidence, indolently to say, that there are so many principles, from whence men are liable to be deceived themselves, and disposed to deceive others, espe- cially in matters of religion, that one knows not what tc believe. And it is surprising persons can help reflecting, tliat this very manner of speaking supposes they are not satisfied that there is nothing in the evidence, of which they speak thus ; or that they can avoid observing, if they do make this reflection, that it is on such a subject, a very material one^ And over against all these objections is to be set the importance of Christianity, as what must have engaged the attention of its first converts, so as to have rendered them less liable to be deceived from carelessness, than they would in common matters; and likewise the strong obligations to veracity, which their religion laid them under ; so that the first and most obvious presumption is, that they could not be deceived themselves nor would deceive others. And this presumption, in this degree, is peculiar to the testimony we have been considering. In ai'gument, assertions are nothing in themselves, and have an air of positiveness which sometimes is not very easy ; yet they are necessaiy, and necessary to be repeated ; in order to connect a discourse, and distinctly to lay before the view of the reader, what is proposed to be proved, and what is left as proved. Now the conclusion from the fore- going observations is, I think, beyond all doubt, this : that unbelievers must be forced to admit the external evidence for Christianity, L e., the proof of miracles wrought to ' See the foregoing chapter. en. VIT.J FOR CHRISTIANITY 287 attest it, to be of real weight and very considerable though tliey cannot allow it to be sufficient, to convince tliem of tlie reality of those miracles ^. And as they must; in all reason, admit tliis ; so it seems to me, that upon consideration they would, in fact, admit it ; those of them, I mean, who know anything at all of the matter ; in like manner as persons, in many cases, own they see strong evidence from testimony, for the truth of things, which yet they cannot be convinced are true : cases, suppose, where there is contrary testimony; or things which they think, whether with or without reason, to be incredible. But there is no testimony contrary to that which we have been con sidering; and it has been fully proved, that there is no incredibility in Christianity in general, or in any part of it. II. As to the evidence for Christianity from prophecy, I shaU only make some few general observations, which are suggested by the Analogy of Nature ; i. e., by the acknow- ledged natural rules of judging in common matters, con- cerning evidence of a like kind to this from prophecy. 1. The obscurity or unintelligibleness of one part of a prophecy does not, m any degree, invalidate the proof of foresight, arising from the appearing completion of those other parts, which are understood. For the case is evi dently the same, as if those parts, which are not under stood, were lost, or not written at all, or written in an unknown tongue. Whether this observation be commonly attended to or not, it is so evident, that one can scarce bring oneself to set down an instance in common matters, to exemplify it. However, suppose a writing, partly in cipher, and partly in plain words at length ; and that in the part one understood, there appeared mention of several known facts : it would never come into any man's thoughts to imagine, tliat if he understood the whole, perhaps he might find, that those facts were not in reality known by the writer. Indeed, both in this example and the thing intended to be exemplified by it, our not imderstanding the ' The proof of miracles must be admitted by an unbeliever to be con- eiderable, if not sufficient ; and indeed it would be so admitted, in lika manner as the evidence of testimony is often admitted to be strong in support of cases which in themselves are incredible, or where there is contrary testi- mony. But in the case of Christianity, there is neither the one nor th« other difficulty.— (IF.) 288 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENOS [PT. II. whole (the whole, suppose, of a sentence or a paragraph^ might sometimes occasion a doubt whether one understood the literal meaning of such a part : but this comes under another consideration. For the same reason, though a man should be incapably for want of learning, or opportunities of inquiiy, or from not having turned his studies this way, even so much as to judge whether particular prophecies have been throughout completely fulfilled ' ; yet he may see, in general, that they have been fulfilled to such a degree as, upon veiy good gi'ound, to be convinced of foresight more than human in such prophecies, and of such events being intended by them. For the same reason also, though, by means of the deficiencies in civil history and the different accounts of historians, the most leai'ned should not be able to make out to satisfaction, that such parts of the prophetic history have been minutely and throughout fulfilled; yet a veiy strong proof of foresight may arise from that general com- pletion of them which is made out : as much proof of fore- sight, perhaps, as the giver of prophecy intended should ever be afforded by such parts of prophecy. 2. A long series of prophecy being applicable to such and such events, is itself a proof that it was intended of them : as the rules by which we naturally judge and deter- mine, in common cases parallel to this, will show. This observation I make in answer to the common objection against the application of the prophecies, that, considering each of them distinctly by itself, it does not at all appear that they were intended of those particulai' events, to which they ai'e applied by Christians ; and therefore it is to be supposed, that, if they meant anything, they were intended of other events unknown to us, and not of these at all. Now there are two kinds of writing, which bear a great resemblance to prophecy, with respect to tlie matter before us : the mythological and the satirical, where the satire is, to a certain degree, concealed. And a man might be as sured, that he understood what an author intended by a fable or parable, related without any application or moral, merely from seeing it to be easily capable of such apphca- tion, and that such a moral might naturally be deduced ' Our ignorance of the whole completion of prophecy does not weaken th(i proof of foresight arising from the yeufrai completion of it — Ed, CH. VII.] FOK CHRISTIANITY. 289 from it. And he might be fully assured, that such persons and events were intended in a satirical writing, merely from its being applicable to them. And, agreeable to the last observation, he might be in a good measure satisfied of it, though he were not enough informed in affairs or in the stoiy 01 such persons to understand half the satire. For his satisfaction, that he understood the meaning, the in- tended meaning of these writings, would be greater or less in proportion as he saw the general turn of them to be ca- pable of such application ; and in proportion to the number of particular tilings capable of it. And thus, if a long series of prophecy is applicable to the present state of tlie church, and to the political situations of the kingdoms of the world, some thousand years after these prophecies were delivered, and a long series of prophecy delivered before the coming of Christ is applicable to him ; these things are in themselves a proof, that tlie prophetic histoiy was in- tended of him, and of those events : in proportion as the general turn of it is capable of such application, and to the number and variety of particular prophecies capable of it. And though, in all just way of consideration, the appearing completion of prophecies is to be allowed to be thus ex- planatory of, and to determine, their meaning ; yet it is to be remembered further, that the ancient Jew^s applied the prophecies to a Messiah before his coming, in much the same manner as Christians do now : and that the primitive Christians interpreted the prophecies respecting the state of the chm^ch and of the world in the last ages, in the sense which the event seems to confirm and verify. And from these things it may be made ajopear : 3. That tlie showing even to a high probability, if that could be, tliat the prophets thought of some other events, in such and such predictions, and not those at all which Christians allege to be completions of those predictions ; or that such and such prophecies are capable of being applied to other events than tliose to which Christians ap- ply tlieni — that this would not confute or destroy tlie force of the arg'ament from jirophecy, even with regard to those very instances. For observe hov/ this matter really is. If one knew such a person to be the sole author of such a book, and was certainly assured, or satisfied to a/iy degree, liiat one knew the whole of what he intended in it ; one 290 OF THE PARTIClrLAR EVIDENCE 'PT. DL should be assured or satisfied to such a degi'ee, that one Lnew tlie v/hole meaning of that book : for tlie mealing of a book is nothing but the meaning of the autnor. But if one knew a person to have compiled a book out of me- moirs, which he received from another, of vastly superior knowledge in the subject of it, especially if it were a book full of great intricacies and difficulties ; it would in no wise follow, that one knew tlie whole meaning of the book, from Imowing the whole meaning of the compiler: for tlie ori- ginal memoirs, i. e., the author of them, might have, and there would be no degree of presumption, in many cases, against supposing him to have, some further meaning than the compiler saw. To say, then, that the Scriptures, and the things contained in them, can have no other or further meaning than those persons thought or had who first recited or WTote them, is evidently saying, that those persons were the original, proper, and sole authors of those books, i. e., that they are not inspired : which is absm\i, whilst the authority of tliese books is under examination ; i. e., till you have determined they are of no divine authority at all. Till this be determined, it must in all reason be supposed, not mdeed that they have, for this is taking for granted that they are inspired ; but that they may have, some further meaning than what the compilers saw or understood. And, upon this supposition, it is supposable also, that this further meaning may be fulfilled. Now events corresponding to prophecies, interpreted in a diff*erent meaning from that, in which the prophets are supposed to have understood them ; this afibrds, in a manner, the same proof, tliat this different sense was originally intended, as it would have afforded, if the prophets had not understood their predictions in the sense it is supposed they did : because there is no pre- sumption of their sense of them being the whole sense of them. Ajid it has been already shown, that the a])parent completions of prophecy must be allowed to be explanatory of its meanhig. So that tlie question is, whether a series of prophecy has been fulfilled in a natural or proper, i. e., in any real sense of the words of it. For such com})letion is equally a proof of foresight more than human, wlielliei the prophets are, or are not, supposed to have undejstood it in a different sense. I say, supposed : for though 1 tliink it clear, tliat the prophets did not understand the full mean CII. VIlJ FOR CHBISTIANITY. Q91 ing of their predictions ; it is another question how for the^ thought they did, and in what sense they understood them. Hence may be seen, to how little pui-pose those persons busy themselves, who endeavour to prove, that the prophetic histoiy is applicable to events of the age in which it was written, or of ages before it. Indeed, to have proved this, before there was any appearance of a further completion of it, might have answered some purpose ; for it might have prevented the expectation of any such further completion. Thus could Porphyiy have shown, that some principal parts of the book of Daniel, for instance, the seventh verse of the seventh chapter, which the Christians interpreted of the latter ages, was applicable to events which happened before !>r about the age of Antiochus Epiphanes ; this might have prevented them from expecting any further completion of it. And, unless there was then, as I think there nmst have been, external evidence conceiTiing that book, more than is come dow^n to us, such a discovery might have been a stumbling-block in the way of Christianity itself; consider- ing the authority which our Saviour has gi\'Teri to the book of Daniel, and how much the general scheme of Chris- tianity presupposes the truth of it. But even tliis dis- coveiy, had there been any such\ would be of veiy little weight with reasonable men now; if this passage, thus applicable to events before the age of Poii^hyry, appears to be applicable also to events which succeeded the dissolution of the Roman empire. I mention this, not at all as in- tending to insinuate, that the division of this empire into ten parts, for it plainly was divided into about that number, is, alone and by itself, of any moment in verifying the prophetic history, but only as an example of the thing I am speaking of. And thus upon the whole, the matter of mquiiy evidently must be, as above put, Whether the prophecies are applicable to Christ, and to the present state of the world, and of the church ; applicable in such a degree, as to imply foresight : not whether tliey are capable ' It appears that Porphyry did nothing worth mentioning in this way. For Jerome on the place says, Duas posteriores bestias — in uno Macedonuvih t^'jno j)onit. And as to the ten kings ; Decern ret/es enumerat, quifuerunt tiivissimi: {2)sosque re^/es iion unius ponit regni, vtrhi gratia^ Macedonia^ Spue, Asi(e, et jEggpH; sed de diversis regnis unum efficit regum ordinem. And in this way of iiitt^rpretation, anything raaj'be made of anything. — Set Newton on the Prophecies, and Chandler's Vindication of Christianity iil'2 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PT. II of aiiy otlier application ; though I know no pretence for saying the general turn of them is capable of any other. These obsen^ations are, I think, just; and the evidence referred to in them, real ; though there may be people who will not accept of such imperfect infoi-mation from Scripture. Some too have not integrity and regard enough to truth to attend to evidence, which keeps the mind in doubt, perhaps perplexity, and which is much of a different sort from Avhat they expected. And it plainly requires a degi'ee of modesty and fairness, beyond what eveiy one has, for a man to say, not to the world, but to himself, that there is a real appear- ance of somewhat of gi-eat weight in this matter, though he is not able thoroughly to satisfy himself about it; but it shall have its influence upon him, in proportion to its appearing reality and weight. It is much more easy, and more falls in with the negligence, presumption, and wilful- ness of the generality, to determine at once, with a decisive air, There is nothing in it. The prejudices arising from that absolute contempt and scorn, with which this evidence is treated in tlie world, I do not mention. For what indeed can be said to persons, who are weak enough in their under- standings to think this any presumption against it; or, it they do not, are yet weak enough in their temper to be influenced by such prejudices, upon such a subject? I shall now. Secondly, endeavour to give some account of the general argument for the truth of Christianity, consist- ing both of the direct and circumstantial evidence, con- sidered as making up one argument'. Indeed to state and examine this argument fully, would be a wovk much beyond the compass of this whole treatise; nor is so much as a proper abridgment of it to be expected here. Yet tlie present subject requires to have some brief account of it ' The reasons for considering this general argument are — (1) that collateral evidence arising from varions coincidences which confirm each other is the evidence on which most practical difficulties are determined ; (2) because it is not July attended to that the proot of revelation consists partly of direct evidence, such as nnracles and prophecy; partly of circumstantial evidence, that is, particulars not reducible to either of these heads ; (3) because, in order to a-ceitair the full force of this evidence, the particular points must be viewed not separately but collectively; (4) because an attentive con- sidention of the particulars of this circu'nstantial evidence, first separately and then collectively, must have great weight with unbelievers who ac- kiicwisdge the facts alleged. CH. VIT.1 FOP. CHRISTIANITY. 29*, given. For it is the kind of evidence upon which mosV questions of difficulty, in common practice, are determined . evidence arismg from various coincidences, which support and confirm each other, and in this manner prove, with more or less certainty, the point under consideration. And I choose to do it also : First, because it seems to be of the gi'eatest importance, and not duly attended to by every one, that the proof of revelation is, not some direct and express tilings only, but a great variety of circumstantial things also ; and that though each of these direct and circumstan- tial things is indeed to be considered separately, yet they are afterwards to be joined together; for that the proper force of the evidence consists in the result of those several things, considered in their respects to each other, and united into one view : and in the next place, because it seems to me, that the matters of fact here set down, which are acknowledged by unbelievers, must be acknowledged by them also to contain together a degree of evidence of greai weight, if they could be brought to lay these several things before themselves distinctly, and then with attention con^ sider them together, instead of that cursory thought of them to which we are familiarized. For being familiarized to the cursory thought of things, as really hinders the weight of them from being seen, as from having its due influence upon practice. The thing asserted, and the truth of which is to be in quired into, is this : That over and above our reason and affections, which God has given us for the information of our judgment and the conduct of our lives, he has also, by external revelation, given us an account of himself and his nxoral government over the world, implying a future stato of rewards and pmiishments, i. e., hatli revealed the system of natural religion : for natural religion may be externally '■ revealed by God, as the ignorant may be taught it by mankind, their fellow-creatures — that God, I say, has given us the evidence of revelation, as well as the evidence of reason, to ascertain this moral system, together v/ith an account of a particular dispensation of Providence, whicli reason could no way have discovered, and a particular institution of religion founded on it, for the recoveiy of mankind out of their present "WTetched condit'ion, an i ' P. 195. 294 OF THE PAKTICUIAR EVIDENCE [VI. H. misiiig them to the peifection and final happiness of their nature. This revelation, whether real or supposed, may be con- sidered as wholly historical. For prophecy is nothing but the history of events before they come to pass ; docti'ines also are matters of fact ; and precepts come under the same notion. And the general design of Scripture, Avhich con- tains in it this revelation, thus considered as historical, may be said to be, to give us an account of the world, in this one single view, as God's world : by which it appears essentially distinguished from all other books, so- far as I have found, excei)t such as are copied from it. It begins witli au account of God's creation of the world, in order to asceilain, and distinguish from all others, who is the object of our worship, by what he has done : in order to ascertain who he is, concerning whose providence, commands, promises, and threatenings, this sacred book, all along, treats , the Maker and Proprietor of the world, he whose creatures we are, the God of Nature : in order likewise to distinguish liim from the idols of the nations, which are either imaginaiy beings, I. €., no beings at all ; or else part of that creation, the his- torical relation of which is here given. And St. John, not improbably with an eye to this INIosaic account of the crea- tion, begins his Gospel with an account of om' Saviours pre-existence, and that all things were made by him ; and without him was not anything made that was made ' ; agreeably to the doctrine of St. Paul, that God created all things by Jesus Christ'. This being premised, the Scripture, taken together, seems to profess to contain a kind of an abridg- ment of the histoiy of the world in the view just now men- tioned; that is, a general account of the condition of religion and its professors, during the continuance of that apostasy from God, and state of wickedness, which it every- where supposes the world to lie in. And this account of the state of religion canies ^\^th it some brief account of the political state of things, as religion is affected by it. Reve lation indeed considers the common affairs of this world, and what is going on in it, as a mere scene of distraction , and cannot be supposed to concei-n itself with foretelling at what time Rome, or Rabylon, or Greece, or any i)articuhii' place, should be the most conspicuous seat of tiiat lyi'annjf John i. 3. ' Kph. iii. 9. en. VII.J FOn rHRISTIANITT. 290 and dissoluteness, which all places equally aspire to be ; can- not, I say, be supposed to give any account of this wild scene for its o^\^l sake. But it seems to contain some vei-y general account of the chief governments of the world, as file general state of religion has been, is, or shall be, affected by them, from the first transgi'ession, and during tlie whole inten'al of tlie world's continuing in its present state, to a certain future period, spoken of botli in the Old and New Testament, very distinctly, and in great variety of expression : The times of the restitution of all things ^ : when the mystery of God shall he finished, as he hath declared to his servants the prophets ~ : when the God of heaven shall set up a kingdom, which shall never he destroyed: and the kingdom shall not he left to other people '\ as it is represented to be during this apostasy, but judgment shall he given to the saints "*, and they shall reign ■' : and the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall he given to the ■people of the saints of the Most High '^. Upon this general view of the Scripture, I would remark, how gi'eat a length of time the whole relation takes up, near six thousand years of which are past; and how great a variety of things it treats of; the natural and moral system or history of the world, including the time when it was formed, all contained in the very first book, and evidently written in a rude and unlearned age ; and in subsequent books, the various common and prophetic history, and the particular dispensation of Christianity. Now all this together gives the largest scope for criticism ; and for con- futation of what is capable of being confuted, either from reason, or from common history, or from any inconsistence in its several parts. And it is a thing which deserves, I til ink, to be mentioned, that whereas some imagine the sup- posed doubtfulness of the evidence for revelation implies a positive argument that it is not true ; it appears, on tlie contrai-y, to imply a positive argument that it is true. For could any common relation of such antiquity, extent, and variety (for in tliese tilings the stress of what I am now obsen^ing lies), be proposed to the examination of the world that it could not, in an age of knowledge and liberty, be confuted, or shown to have nothing in it, tc die satisfactioQ ' Acts iii. 21. ^ Rev. x. 7. ^ Dan. ii. 44. ♦ Dan. vii. 22. * fiev. xx. d. • Dan. vii. 2T. 296 OF THE PAETlCULAPv EVIDENCE [PT. II. oi reasonable men; this would be thougbt £. strong pre- sumptive proof of its truth. And indeed it must be a proof of it, just in proportion to the probabihty, tliat if it were ffJse, it might be shown to be so : and this, I tliink, is scarce pretended to be shown, but upon prirciples and in ways of arguing, v/hich have been clearly obviated ^ Nor does it at all appear, that any set of men, who believe natm-al religion, are of the opinion, that Christianity has been thus confuted. But to proceed : Together with the moral system of the world, the Old Testament contains a chronological account of the begin- ning of it, and from thence, an unbroken genealogy of mankind for many ages, before common history begins ; and earned on as much farther as to make up a continued thread of histoiy of the length of between tliree and four thou- sand years. It contains an account of God's making a covenant with a particular nation, that they should be his people, and he would be their God, in a peculiar sense ; of his often interposing miraculously in their affairs ; giving them the promise, and, long after, the possession of a par- ticular countiy; assuring them of the greatest national prosperity in it, if they would worship him, in opposition to the idols which the rest of the world worshipped, and obey his commands; and threatening them with un- exampled punishments if they disobeyed him, and fell into the general idolatry : insomuch that tliis one nation should continue to be the observation and the wonder of all the world. It declai^es particularly, that God would scatter them among all people, from one end of the earth unto the other; but tliat when they should return unto the Lord their God, he would have compassion upon them, and gather thern from all the nations, whither he had scattered them: that Israel should be saved in the Lord, with an everlasting salvation; and not he asha?ned or confounded world without end. And as some of these promises are conditional, otliers ai-e as absolute, as anything can be expressed : that the time should come, when the people should be all righteous, and inherit the land for ever: tliat though God would make a full end of all nations u\ither he had scattered them, yet ivould lie not make a full end of them : that he would hing again the captivity of his peopU Israel, and plant them upon their land, and they should be nt > Ch. ii. iii., &c. en. VII.J FOR CHRiSTlANlTY. 297 more pulled vp out of their land : that the seed of Israel should not cea^e from being a nation for ever^. It foretells, that God would raise them up a paiticular person, in whom all his promises should finally be fulfilled ; the Messiah, who should be, in a high and eminent sense, their anointed Prince and Saviour. This was foretold in such a manner, as raised a general expectation of such a person in the nation, as appears from the New Testament, and is an acknowledged fact ; an expectation of his coming at such a particular time, before any one appeared claiming to be that person, and when there was no ground for such an expectation, but from the prophecies : which expectation, therefore, must in all reason be presumed to be explanatoiy of those prophecies, if there were any doubt about their meaning. It seems moreover to foretell, that this person should be rejected by that nation, to whom he had been so long promised, and tliough he was so much desired by them '■^. And it expressly foretells, that he should be the Saviour of the Gentiles ; and even that the completion of the scheme contained in this book, and then begun, and in its progress, should be somewhat so great, that in compari- son with it, the restoration of the Jews alone would be but of small account. It is a light thing that thou shouldest be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of Israel: I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, that thou mayest be 7ny salvation unto the end of the earth. And, Li the last days, the rnountairi of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills ; and all nations shall flow into it — for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the 7iations — and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day, and the idols he shall utterly abolish \ The Scrip tm'e fm-ther contains an account, tliat at the time the Messiah was expected, a person rose up in tliis nation, claiming to be that Messiah, to be the person whom all the prophecies refeiTei to, and » Deut. xxviii. 64, xxx. 2, 8 ; Isa. xlv. 17, Ix. 21 ; Jer. xxx. 11, xlvi. 28; Amos ix. 14, 15; Jer. xxxi. 36. 2 Isa. viii. 14, 15, xlix. 5, ch. liii. ; Mai. i. lu, 11, and cb. iii. 3 Isa. xlix. 6, ch. ii., ch. xi., ch. Ivi. 7; Mai. i. 11. To which must bo auded the other prophecies of the like kind, several in the New Testament, and ver\' many in the Old, which describe what shall be the comjvletica ol the revealed plan of Providence. 898 OF THE PAETICULAR EVIDENCE [?T. H in whom they should centre : that he spent some years in a continued course of miraculous works ; and endued his immediate disciples and followers with a power of doing the same, as a proof of the truth of that religion, which he commissioned them to publish : that, invested with this authority and power, they made numerous converts in the remotest countries, and settled and established his religion in the world ; to the end of which the Scripture professes to give a prophetic accoimt of the state of this religion amongst mankind. Let us now suppose a person utterly ignorant of history, to have all this related to him out of the Scripture. Or suppose such a one, having the Scripture put into his hands, to remark these things in it, not knowing but that the whole, even its civil history, as well as the other parts of it, might be from beginning to end an entire invention ; and to ask, What truth was in it, and whether the revelation here related was real, or a fiction ? And instead of a direct answer, sup- pose him, all at once, to be told the following confessed facts ; and then to unite them into one view. Let him first be told, in how gi^eat a degi-ee the profession and establishment of natural religion, the belief that there is one God to be worshipped, that virtue is his law, and that mankind shall be rewarded and punished hereafter, as they obey and disobey it here ; in how very gi^eat a degi-ee, I say, the profession and establishment of this moral system in the world is owing to the revelation, whether real or sup posed, contained in this book: the estabhshment of this moral system, even in those countries which do not acknow- ledge the proper authority of the Scripture '. Let him be told also, what number of nations do acknowledge its proper authority. Let him then take in the consideration of what importance religion is to mankind. And upon these tilings he might, I think, truly observe, that this supposed reve- lation's obtaining and being received in tlie world with all the circumstances and efi'ects of it, considered together as one event, is the most conspicuous and important event in the history of mankind : that a book of this nature, and tlius promulged and recommended to our consideration, demands, as if by a voice from heaven, to have its claims most seriously examined into : and that, before such exami* » P. 260. CH. Vn.r FOR CHRISTI.VNITT. 299 nation, io treat it with any kind of scoffing and ridicule, ia an offence against natural piety. But it is to be remembered, that how much soever the estabhshment of natm-al rehgion in the world is owing to the Scripture revelation, this does not destroy the proof of rehgion from reason, any more than the proof of Euclid's Elements is destroyed, by a man's knowing or thinking that he should never have seen the truth of tlie several propositions contained in it, nor had tliose propositions come into his thoughts, but for that ma- tliematician. Let such a person as we are speaking of be, in the next place, informed of the acknowledged antiquity of the first parts of this book ; and tliat its chronology, its account of the time when the earth, and the several parts of it, were first peopled with human creatures, is no way contradicted, but is really confimied, by the natural and civil history of tlie world, collected from common historians, from the state of the earth, and from the late invention of arts and sciences. And as the Scripture contains an unbroken thread of com- mon and civil history, from the creation to the captivity, for between three and four thousand years ; let the person we are speaking of be told in the next place, that this general histoiy, as it is not contradicted, but is confimied by pro- fane history as much as there would be reason to expect, upon supposition of its truth ; so there is nothing in the whole histoiy itself, to give any reasonable ground of suspi- cion of its not being, in the general, a faithful and literally true genealogy of men, and series of things. I speak here only of the common Scriptm-e histoiy, or of the com^se of ordinaiy events related in it, as distinguished from miracles, and from the prophetic history. In aU the Scripture narra- tions of this kind, following events arise out of foregoing ones, as in all other histories ^ There appears nothing related as done in any age, not conformable to tlie manners of that age : nothing in the accomit of a succeeding age, which one would say could not be true, or was improbable, from thtf ' There are several objections to passages of Scripture, occasioned by not considering them in reference to the manners of the times. Thus it appears that the things objected to, like many ethers that aiv3 censured in Christianity and in Scripture, are, in a greater oi leu degree, actual proofs of thei truth and authenticity. — {H^ 80C OP THE PAETICULAR EVIDENCE [PI. U. dccount of things in the preceding one. There is nothing in the characters which would raise a thought of their being feigned ; but all the mternal marks imaginable of their bemg real. It is to be added also, that mere genealogies, bare naiTatives of the number of years, which persons called by such and such names lived, do not carry the face of fiction ; perhaps do caiiy some presumption of veracity; and all unadorned naiTatives, which have nothing to surprise, may be thought to carry somewhat of the like presumption too. And the domestic and the political histoiy is plainly credi- ble. There may be incidents in Scriptm^e which, taken alone in the naked way they are told, may appear strange, especiaUy to persons of other manners, temper, education ; but thei'e are also incidents of undoubted truth in many or most persons' lives, which, in the same circumstances, would appear to the full as strange. There may be mis- takes of ti"anscribers, there may be other real or seeming mistakes, not easy to be particularly accounted for; but there are certainly no more things of this kind in the Scripture than what were to have been expected in books of such antiquity; and nothing in any wise sufficient to discredit the general naiTative. Now that a histoiy claim- ing to commence from the creation, and extending in one continued series, through so great a length of time and variety of events, should have such appeai^ances of reality and ti'uth in its whole contextm^e, is sm-ely a very remark- able chcumstance in its favour. And as all this is appli- cable to the common history of the New Testament, so there is a fmlher credibility, and a very high one, given to it by profane authors : many of these writing of the same times, and confirming the truth of customs and events, which are incidentally as well as more pm'posely mentioned in it. And this credibility of the common Scriptm-e histciy gives some credibility to its mhaculous histoiy, especially as this is intenvoven with the common, so as that they imply each other, and both together make up one relation '. Let it then be more particularly observed to this person, ' The credibility of the common history of Scripture gives a strong inci- dental confirmation of the credibility of the miraculous part of the narrative; on the principle that what is true of one part of any great whole or system is ia some degree probably true of the other. — £d. CE VTI.J TOR CHRISTIANITY. 301 tliat it is an acknowledged matter of fact, which is indeed impHed in the foregoing observ^ation, that there was such a nation as the Jews, of the greatest antiquity, whose govern- ment and general polity was founded on the law, here related to be given them by Moses as from heaven : that natural religion, though with rites additional yet no way contrary to it, was their established religion, which cannot be said of the Gentile world ; and tliat their veiy being as a nation, depended upon their acknowledgment of one God, the God of the universe. For, suppose in their captivity in "Babylon they had gone over to the religion of their con- querors, there would have remained no bond of union to keep tliem a distinct people. And whilst they were under their own kings, in their o\vn country, a total apostasy from God would have been the dissolution of their wliole goveiTi- ment. They in such a sense nationally acknowledged and worshipped the Makssr of heaven and earth, wdien the rest of the world were sunk in idolatry, as rendered them, in fact, the peculiar people of God. And this so remarkable an establishment and presentation of natural religion amongst them, seems to add some peculiar credibility to the historical evidence for the miracles of Moses and the Prophets; because these miracles are a full satisfactoiy account of this event, which plainly wants to be accounted for, and cannot otherwise. Let this person, supposed wholly ignorant of history, be acquainted further, that one claiming to be the Messiah of Jewish extraction, rose up at the time when this nation, from the prophecies above mentioned, expected the Messiah ^ : tliat he was rejected, as it seemed to have been foretold he should, by the body of the people, under the direction of their rulers : that in the course of a very few years he was 1 See Bishop Chandler's " Vindication of Christianity," where it is fully prcred. that this expectation was general among the Jews and Samaritans. The eiFects of it may be judged by its extension among the Gentiles. To say nothing of the Arabians, and of the appearing of the Star to the Eastern Magi ; and to omit all reference to Virgil's celebrated Eclogue, in which he celebrates the expected birth of a son to Poliio in terms almost identical with the prophecy of Isaiah ; Suetonius (Vespas. cap. iv. 8) thus writes : " Per- crebuerai orlente toto vetus et constans opinio, esse in fatis ut eo tempore .Judeea profecti rerum potirentur." And so also Tacitus (Hist. v. Q) testifies, " Pluribus persuasio inerat, antiquis sacerdotura Uteris contineri, eo ipsa tempore fore ut valesceret oriens, profectique Judges, rerum potirentur." — £d, 302 OF THE PARTICULAE EVIDENCE [PT. II, believed on and acknowledged as the promised Messiah hy great numbers among the Gentiles, agreeably to the pro- phecies of Scriptm-e, yet not upon the evidence of prophecy, but of miracles ', of which miracles we have also strong liistorical evidence, (by which I mean here no more tlian must he acknowledged by unbelievers ; for let pious frauds and follies be admitted to weaken, it is absm'd to say they destroy, our evidence of miracles wrought in proof of Chris- tianity : ) that this religion approving itself to the reason of mankind, and canying its own evidence with it, so far as reason is a judge of its system, and being no way contraiy to reason in those parts of it which require to be believed upon the mere authority of its Author ; that this religion, I say, gradually spread and supported itself for some hundred years, not only without any assistance from temporal power, but under constant discouragements, and often the bitterest persecutions from it, and then became the religion of the world ; that in the mean time the Jewish nation and govern- ment were destroyed in a very remarkable manner, and the people carried away captive and dispersed through the most distant countries, in which state of dispersion they have re- mained fifteen hundred yeai^s ; and that they remain a numerous people united amongst themselves, and dis- tmguished from the rest of the world, as they were in the days of Moses, by the profession of his law; and eveiy- where looked upon in a manner, which one scarce knows how distinctly to express, but in the words of the prophetic account of it, given so many ages before it came to pass : Thou shall become an astonishment, a proverb, and a by-word^ among all nations whither the Lord shall lead thee\ The appearance of a standing miracle, in the Jews re- maining a distinct people in their dispersion, and the con- firmation which this event aj^pears to give to the truth of revelation, may be thought to be answered by their re- ligion's forbidding them intermarriages with tliose of any other, and prescribing them a gi^eat many peculiarities in tlieir food, by which they are debarred from the means of incorporating with the people in whose countries they live. This is not, I think, a satisfactory account of that which it pretends to account for. But what does it pretend to ' P. 279. 2 p^ 235. ^ Deut. xxviii. 37. CH. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 303 account for? The correspondence between tliis event and the prophecies, or the coincidence of both, with a long dis- pensation of Providence, of a pecuUai' nature, towards that people formerly ? No. It is only the event itself which is offered to be thus accounted for ; which single event, taken alone, abstracted from all such correspondence and coin- cidence, perhaps would not have appeared miraculous ; but that correspondence and coincidence may be so, though the event itself be supposed not. Thus the concurrence of our Saviour s being born at Bethlehem, with a long foregoing series of prophecy and other coincidences, is doubtless miraculous ; the series of prophecy, and other coincidences, and the event, being admitted : though the event itself, his birth at that place, appears to have been brought about in a natural way ; of which, however, no one can be certain. And as several of these events seem, in some degi'ee ex- pressly, to have verified the prophetic histoiy already, so likewise they may be considered further as having a peculiar aspect towards the full completion of it, as affording some presumption that the whole of it shall, one time or other, be fulfilled. Thus, that tlie Jews have been so wonderfully preserv^ed in their long and wide dispersion, which is indeed the direct fulfilling of some pro^Dhecies, but is now men- tioned only as looking forward to somewhat yet to come; tliat natural religion came forth from Judea, and spread, in the degree it has done over the world, before lost in idolatiy ; which, together witli some other things, have distinguished that very place, in like manner as the people of it are dis- tinguished ; that this great change of religion over the earth was brought about under the profession and acknow- ledgment, that Jesus was the promised Messiah : things of this kind naturally turn the thoughts of serious men towards the full completion of the prophetic history, concerning tlie final restoration of that people ; concerning the establish- ment of the everlasting kingdom among them, the kingdom of the IMessiah ; and the future state of the world, under tliis sacred government. Such circumstances and events, compared with these prophecies, though no completions of them, yet would not, 1 think, be spoken of as nothing in tlie argument, by a person upon his first being informed of them. They fall in with the prophetic history of thmgs stiU 804 OF THE PARTICULAR EVTI>ENCE [PT. II. future, give it some additional credibility, have the appear- ance of being somewhat in order to the full completion of it. Indeed it requires a good degree of knowledge, and great calmness and consideration, to be able to judge thoroughly of the evidence for the truth of Christianity, from that part of the prophetic history which relates to the situation of the kingdoms of the world, and to the state of the church, from the establishment of Christianity to the present time. But it appears from a general view of it, to be very material. And those persons who have thoroughly examined it, and some of them were men oi tlie coolest tem]3ers, greatest capacities, and least liable to imputations of prejudice, insist upon it as determinately conclusive. Suppose now a person quite ignorant of history, first t*! recollect the passages above mentioned out of Scripture without knowing but that the whole was a late fiction, tlien to be informed of the correspondent facts now men- tioned, and to unite them all into one view : that the pro- fession and establishment of natm^al religion in the world is greatly owing in different w^ays, to this book, and the supposed revelation which it contains ; that it is acknow- ledged to be of the earliest antiquity ; that its chronology and common histoiy are entirely credible ; that this ancient nation, the Jews, of whom it chiefly treats, appear to have been, in fact, the people of God, in a distinguished sense ; that, as there was a national expectation amongst tliem, raised from the prophecies, of a Messiah to appear at such a time, so one at this time appeared claiming to be that Messiah; that he was rejected by this nation, but received by the Gentiles, not upon the evidence of pro- pliecy, but of miracles ; that the religion he tauglit sup- ported itself under the greatest difficulties, gained ground, and at length became the religion of the world ; that in the mean time tlie Jewish polity was utterly destroyed, and the nation dispersed over the face of the earth ; that notwithstanding this, they have remained a distinct nume rous people for so many centuries, even to this day ; which not only appears to be the express completion of several propliecies concerning tliem, but also renders it as ona CH. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 3C5 may speak, a visible and easy possibility that the promises m'ide to them as a nation, may yet be fulfilled. And to Uiese acknowledged trutlis, let the person we have been supposing add, as I think he ought, whether every one will allow it or no, the obvious appearances which there are, of the state of the world, in other respects besides what relates to the Jews, and of the Christian church, having so long answered, and still answering, to the prophetic history, Suppose, I say, these facts set over against the things before mentioned out of the Scripture, and seriously com- pared with them ; the joint view of both together must, I think, appear of very great weight to a considerate reason- able person : of much greater indeed, upon having them first laid before him, than is easy for us, who are so fami- liarized to them, to conceive, without some particular attention for that purpose. All these things, and the several particulars contained under them, require to be distinctly and most thoroughly examined into ; that the weight of each may be judged of, upon such examination, and such conclusion drawn as results from tlieir united force '. But this has not been attempted here. I have gone no furtlier than to show, tliat ^e general imperfect view of them now given, the confessed historical evidence for miracles, and the many obvious appearing completions of prophecy, together with tlie collateral things- here mentioned, and there are several others of the like sort ; that all this together, which, being ' We may thus sum up the concluding observiitions on this view of the direct and collateral evidence for Christianity, taken together as one argu- Kient. 1. Each particular should be weighed separately, and the conclusion drawn from their united force. 2. The whole evidence, viewed collectively, must be acknowledged by Bnbelievers to prove something more than human. 3. The high degree of proof resulting from a joint review of tbe several particulars should be noticed, for they not only increase it„ but multiply it. 4. A mistake on the side of rejecting Christianity is much more dangerous than a mistake on the other side ; and it is right to choose the safer course. 5. The trtUh of Christianity depends on all the evidence taken together. In other words, Christianity is true, unless the whole series of facts, and each particular £.ict, can be reasonaljly supposed accidental. — Md. 2 All the particular things mentioned in this chapter, Rot reducible to the head of certain miracles, or determinate completions of prophecy. Se« p. 275. X 306 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [FX. II fact, must be acknowledged by unbelievers, amounts to real evidence of somewhat more than human m this matter: evidence much more impoitaiit than careless men, who have been accustomed only to ti'ansient and partial views of it, can imagine ; and indeed abundantly sufficient to act upon. And these things, I apprehend, must be acknow- ledged by unbelievers. For though they may say, that the historical evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity, is not sufficient to convmce them that such miracles were really wrought : they cannot deny, that there Is such historical evidence, it being a known matter of fact that there is. They may say, the conformity between tlic prophecies and events is by accident : but tliere are many instances in which such conformity itself cannot be denied. They may say, with regard to such kind of collateral things as those above mentioned, that any odd accidental events, without meaning, will have a meaning fomid in them by fanciful people : and that such as are fanciful in any one certain way, will make out a thousand coincidences, which seem to favour their peculiar follies. Men, 1 say, may talk thus : but no one who is serious, can possibly think these things to be nothing, if he considers the importance of collateral things, and even of lesser circumstances, in the evidence of probability, as distinguished in nature, from the evidence of demonstration. In many cases indeed it seems to require the truest judgment, to determine with exactness the weight of cin^umstantial evidence : but it is very often ■altogether as conv'ncing as that which is the most express and direct. This general view of the evidence for Christianity, con- sidered as making one argument, may also sei-\e to recom- mend to serious persons, to set down everything which they think may be of any real weight at all in proof of it, and particularly the many seeming completions of prophecy : and they will find, that, judging by the natui-al rules, by which we judge of probable evidence in common matters, they amount to a much higher degree of proof, ui)on such a joint review, than could be supposed upon considering them separately, at different times ; how strong soever the proof might before appear to them, upon such separate views of it. For probable proofs, by being added, not only increase the evidence, but multiply it. Nor should I dissuade anj' CH. VII.] FOR r,F klSTIANir^ GOT one flora setting down, what he thought made for the coii trary side. But then it is to be remember.'d, not in ordor to influence his judgment', but his practice, that a mini,:dthers, as vicious and of ill desert. That we have tliis DISS. II.] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 335 moral approving and disapproving' faculty, is certain from our experiencing it in ourselves, and recognising it in each other. It appears from our exercising it unavoidably, in the approbation and disapprobation even of feigned cha- racters : from the words right and wrong, odious and amiable, base and worthy, with many others of like signi- fication in all languages applied to actions and characters : from the many written systems of morals which suppose it; since it cannot be imagined that all these authors, tlii'oughout all these treatises, had absolutely no meaning at all to their words, or a meaning merely chimerical: from our natm-al sense of gratitude, which implies a dis- tinction between merely being the instrument of good, and intending it: from the like distinction every one makes between injury and mere harm, which, Hobbes says, is peculiar to mankind ; and between injury and just punishment, a distinction plainly natural, prior to the consideration of human laws. It is manifest great part" of common language, and of common behaviour over the world, is formed upon supposition of such a moral faculty; whether called conscience, moral reason, moral sense, or divine reason; whether considered as a sentiment of the imderstanding, or as a perception of the heart; or, which seems tlie truth, as including both. Nor is it at aU doubtful in the general, what course of action this faculty, or practical discerning power within us, approves and what it disapproves. For, as much as it has been disputed wherein virtue consists, or whatever ground for doubt there may be about particulars ; yet, in general, there is in reality a universally acknowledged standard of it. It is that, which all ages and all countries have made profession of in pubhc : it is that, which every man you meet puts on the ' This Avay of speaking is taken from Epictetus^, and is made use of as seeming the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral faculty may be understood to have these two epithets ^hoKifjca.irrix.ri and a.-Trotox.ifAo.ffTiKit, upon a double account, because, upon a survey of actions, whether before or alter they Hre done, it determines them to be good or evil ; and also because it determines itself to be the guide of action and of life, in contradistinction from all other faculties, or natural principles of action, in the very same man- ner as speculative reason rfM-ec% and naturally judges of speculative truth and falsehood ; and at the same time is attended with a consciousness upon rejlcction, that the natural right to judge of them belongs fco i^ * Arr, Epict. lib. i. cap. I, 3 336 OF THE NATUItE OF VIRTUE. [dISS. II. shov of: it is that, which the primaiy and fundamental laws of all civil constitutions over the face of the eai'th make it their business and endeavour to enforce the pi'actice of upon mankind: namely, justice, veracity, anc regard to common good. It being manifest, then, in general, that we have such a faculty or discernment as this, it may be of use to remark some things more distinctly concerning it. First. It ought to be obsen-ed, that the object of this faculty is actions \ comprehending under that name active or practical principles : those principles from which men would act, if occasions and circumstances gave them power ; and which, when fixed and habitual in any person, we call his character. It does not appear, tliat brutes have tlie least reflex sense of actions, as distinguished from events : or that will and design, which constitute the veiy nature of actions as such, are at all an object to their perception. But to ours they are : and they are the object, and the only one, of tlie approving and disapproving faculty. Acting, conduct, behaviour, abstracted from all regard to what is in fact and event the consequence of it, is itself the natural object of the moral discernment; as speculative truth and falsehood is of speculative reason. Intention of such and such consequences, indeed, is always included ; for it is part of the action itself: but though the intended good or bad consequences do not follow, we have exactly the same sense of the action as if they did. In like manner we think well or ill of characters, abstracted from all consider- ation of the good or the evil, which persons of such cha racters have it actually in their power to do. We never, in tlie moral way, applaud or blame either ourselves or others, for what we enjoy or what we suffer, or for having impres- sions made upon us which we consider as altogether out of our powpr : but only for what we do, or would have done, had it been in om- power : or for what we leave undono, which we might have done, or would have left undone, though we could have done it. Secondly. Our seise or discernment of actions as morall} t-. good or evil, implies in it a sense or discernment of them yas of good or ill desert. It may be difficult to explain Oi^i fi i^tTP xai xaxia — iv niffti, aXXi ivtfytU, M. Anton, lib. ix. Itf. Yiituiis Ihus omnia in actioue cou*ij>ui. (Jit. oif. lib. i. cap. 6. H OtBS. n.J OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 837 this perception, so as to answer all the questions which may be asked concerning it : but every one speaks of such and such actions as deserving punishment; and it is not, I suppose, pretended, that they have absolutely no meaning at all to the expression. Now the meaning plainly is not, that we conceive it for the good of society, that the doer of such actions should be made to suffer For if, unhappily, it were resolved, that a man, who, by some innocent action, was infected with the plague, should be left to perish, lest, by other people's coming near him, the infection should spread ; no one would say he deserved this treatment. Innocence and ill desert are inconsistent ideas. Ill desert always supposes guilt : and if one be not part of the other, yet they are evidently and naturally con- nected in our mind. The sight of a man in misery raises our compassion towards him ; and, if this misery be in- flicted on him by another, our indignation against the author of it. But when we ai-e informed, that the sufferer is a villain, and is punished only for his treachery or cruelty ; our compassion exceedingly lessens, and in many instances our indignation wholly subsides. Now what pro- duces this effect is the conception of that in the sufferer, which we call ill desert. Upon considering, then, or view ing together, our notion of vice and that of misery, there results a third, that of ill desert. And thus there is in human creatures an association of the two ideas, natural and moral evil, wickedness and punishment. If this asso- ciation were merely artificial or accidental, it were nothing : but being most unquestionably natural, it greatly concerns us to attend to it, instead of endeavouring to explain it away. It may be observed further, concerning our perception of good and of ill desert, that the former is very weak with respect to common instances of virtue. One reason of which may be, that it does not appear to a spectator, how far such instances of virtue proceed from a virtuous principle, or in what degree this principle is prevalent: since a very weak regard to virtue may be suf£cient to make men act well in many common instances. And, on the other hand, our perception of ill desert in vicious actions lessens, in proportion to the temptations men are thought to have had in such vices. For, vice in human z 1. 838 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE [dISS. U, creatures consisting chiefly in the absence or want of the virtuous principle ; though a man be overcome, suppose, by tortures, it does not from tlience appear to what degree the virtuous principle was wanting All that ap])ears is, that he had it not in such a degi'ee, as to prevail over the temptation ; but possibly he had it in a degi-ee, which would have rendered him proof against common temptations. Thirdly. Our perception of vice and ill desert arises from, and is the result of, a comparison of actions with the nature and capacities of the agent. For the mere neglect of doing what we ought to do, would, in many cases, be determined by all men to be in the highest degree vicious. rAnd this determination must arise from such comparison, and be the result of it; because such neglect would not be vicious in creatures of other natures and capacities, as brutes. And it is the same also with respect to positive vices, or such as consist in doing what we ought not. For, every one has a different sense of harm done by an idiot, madman, or child, and by one of mature and common understanding ; though the action of both, including the intention, which is part of the action, be the same : as it may be, smce idiots and madmen, as well as children, are capable not only of doing mischief, but also of intending it. Now this difference must arise from somewhat discerned in the natm-e or capacities of one, which renders the action vicious ; and the want of which, in the otlier, renders the same action innocent or less vicious : and tliis plainly supposes a compaiison, whetlier reflected upon or not, between the action and capacities of the agent, pre- vious to our determining an action to be vicious. And hence arises a proper application of the epithets, incon- gruous, unsuitable, disproportionate, unfit, to actions which our moral faculty determines to be vicious. Fourthly. It desen^es to be considered, whether men are more at liberty, in point of morals, to make tliemselves miserable without reason, than to make otlier people so : or dissolutely to neglect their own greater good, for the sake of a present lesser gratification, than they are to neglect the good of others, whom natm-e has committed to their care. It should seem, that a due concern about our own interest or happiness, and a reasonable endeavour to ^9Ciire ani promote it^ which is, I think, very much tlie DISS. n.J 0¥ THE NATURE OF VIHTUB. 839 meaning of the word prudence, in our language ; it should seem, that this is virtue, and tlie contrary behaviour faulty and blamable ; smce, m tlie calmsst way of reflection, we approve of tlie first, and condemn the other conduct, both in ourselves and others. This approbation and disappro bation ai-e altogether different from mere desire of our own, or of their happiness, and from sorrow upon missing it. For the object or occasion of this last kind of percep- tion is satisfaction or uneasiness : whereas tiie object of the firpt is active behaviour. In one case, what our thoughts fix upon is om* condition : in the otlier, our con duct. It is time, indeed, that nature has not given us so sensible a disapprobation of impimdence and folly, either in ourselves or others, as of falsehood, injustice, and cruelty : I suppose, because that constant habitual sense of private interest and good, wliich we always cany about with us, renders such sensible disapprobation less necessary, less wanting, to keep us from imprudently neglecting our own happiness, and foolisly injm'ing ourselves, than it is neces sary and wanting to keep us from injuring others, to whose good we cannot have so strong and constant a regard : and also because imprudence and folly, appearing to bring its own punishment more immediately and constantly than injurious behaviour, it less needs the additional punish- ment, which would be inflicted upon it by others, had tliey the same sensible indignation against it, as against in justice, and fraud, and cruelty. Besides, unhappiness being in itself the natural object of comiDassion ; the unhappiness which people bring upon themselves, though it be wilfully, excites in us some pity for them : and this oi course lessens our displeasure against tliem. But still it is matter of experience, that we are formed so as to reflect very severely upon the greater instances of imprudent neglect and foolish rashness, both in ourselves and others. In instances of this kind, men often say of themselves with remorse, and of others with some indignation, thut tliey desei-ved to sufi*er such calamities, because the^ brought them upon themsfelves, and would not take warn- ing. Particularly when persons come to poverty and dis- tress by a long course of extravagance, and after frequent admonitions, though without falsehood or injustice; we plainly, do not regard such people as alike objects of z ^ 310 OF THE NATUllE OF VIKTUE [DISS. U compassion with those, who are brought into the same condition by unavoidable accidents. From these things it appears, that prudence is a species of virtue, and folly of vice : meaning hy folly, somewhat quite different from mere incapacity; a thoughtless warn of that regard and atten- tion to our own happiness, which we had capacity for And this the word properly includes , and, as it seems, in its usual acceptation: for we scarcely apply it to brute creatures. However, if any person be disposed to dispute the matter, I shall very willingly give him up the words virtue and vice, as not applicable to piTidence and folly: but must beg leave to insist, that the faculty within us, which is the judge of actions, approves of prudent actions, and disapproves imprudent ones : I say prudent and imprudent actions as such, and considered distinctly from the happi- ness or misery which they occasion. And by the way, this observation may help to determine what justness there is in that objection against religion, that it teaches us to be interested and selfish. Fifthly. Without inquiring how far, and in what sense, virtue is resolvable into benevolence, and vice into the want of it ; it may be proper to obsei've, that benevolence, and the want of it, singly considered, are in no sort the whole of virtue and vice. For if this were the case, in the review of one's own character, or that of others, our moral understanding and moral sense would be indifferent to everything, but the degrees in which benevolence pre- vailed, and the degrees in which it was wanting. That is, we should neither approve of benevolence to some persons rather than to others, nor disapprove injustice and false- hood upon any other account, than merely as an over- balance of happiness was foreseen likely to be produced by the first, and of misery by the second. But now, on the contrary, suppose two men competitors for anything whatever, which would be of equal advactirge to each of tl-.em ; though nothing indeed would be more impertinent, than for a stranger to busy himself to get one of them preferred to the other; yet such endeavour would be virtue, in behalf of a friend or benefactor, abstracted from all consideration of distant consequence : as that examples of gratitude, and the cultivation of friendship, would be oi DI8S. II.] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. J^41 general good to the world. Again, suppose one man should, by fraud or violence, take from another the fruit of his labour, with intent to give it to a third, who he thought would have as much pleasure from it as would balance the pleasure which the first possessor would have had in the enjoyment, and his vexation in the loss of it ; suppose also that no bad consequences would follow: yet such an action would surely be vicious. Nay, further, were treachery, violence, and injustice, no otherwise vicious, than as foreseen likely to produce an overbalance of misery to society; then, if in any case a man could procure to himself as great advantage by an act of injustice, as the whole foreseen inconvenience, likely to be brought upon others by it, would amount to ; such a piece of injustice would not be faulty or vicious at all : because it would be no more than, in any other case, for a man to prefer his own satisfaction to another's in equal degrees. The fact, then, appears to be, that we are constituted so as to condemn falsehood, unprovoked violence, injustice, and to approve of benevolence to some preferably to others, ab- stracted from all consideration, which conduct is likeliest to produce an overbalance of happiness or misery. And therefore, were the Author of Nature to propose nothing to himself as an end but the production of happiness, were his moral character merely that of benevolence ; yet ours is not so. Upon that supposition, indeed, the only reason of his giving us the above-mentioned approbation of benevolence t(> some persons rather than others, and disapprobation of falsehood, unprovoked violence, and in- justice, must be, that he foresaw this constitution of our nature would produce more happiness, than forming us with a temper of mere general benevolence. But still, since this is our constitution ; falsehood, violence, injustice, must be vice in us, and benevolence to some, preferably to others, virtue; abstracted from all consideration of the overbalance of evil or good, which they may appeal' likely to produce. Now if human creatures are endued with such a moral nature as we have been explaining, or with a moral faculty the natural object of which is actions, moral government must consist in rendering them happy and unhappy, in ewarding and punishing them as they follow, neglect, or 842 OF THE NAITRE OF TIRTUE [d188. It depart from the moral rule of action interwoven in thei^ nature, or suggested and enforced by this moral faculty ^ • in rewarding and punishing them upon account of ihe'u so doing. I am not sensible that I have, in this fifth observation, contradicted what any author designed to assert. But some of great and distinguished merit, have, I think, ex- pressed themselves in a manner which may occasion some danger to careless readers, of imagining the whole of vir- tue to consist in singly aiming, according to the best of their judgment, at promoting the happiness of mankind in the present state; and the whole of vice in doing what they foresee, or might foresee, is likely to produce an over- balance of unhappiness in it : than which mistakes, none can be conceived more terrible. For it is certain, tha^ some of the most shocking instances of injustice, adultery, murder, perjury, and even of persecution, may, in many supposable cases, not have the appearance of being likely to produce an overbalance of miseiy in tlie present state , perhaps sometimes may have the contraiy appearance For this reflection might easily be can-ied on, but I for- bear. — The happiness of the world is the concern of him who is the Lord and the Proprietor of it : nor do we know what we are about, when we endeavour to promote the good of mankind in any ways, but those which he has di rected; that is, indeed, in all ways not contrary to veracity and justice. I speak thus upon supposition of persons really endeavouring, in some sort, to do good without re gard to these. But the truth seems to be, that such sup posed endeavours proceed, almost always, from ambition, the spirit of party, or some indirect principle, concealed perhaps in great measure from persons themselves. And though it is our business and our duty to endeavour, within the boimds of veracity and justice, to contribute to the ease, convenience, and even cheerfulness and diversion of our fellow-creatures : yet, from our short views, it is greatly uncertain, whether this endeavour will, in parti- cular instances, produce an overbalance of happiness upon the whole ; since so many and distant things must come into the account. And that which makes it our duty is, that there is some appearance that it will, and no positive » ?. 16ft. DISS, n.j OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 848 appearance sufficient to balance this, on the contrary side , and also, that such benevolent endeavour is a cultivation of that most excellent of all virtuous principles, the active principle of benevolence. However, though veracity, as well as justice, is to be our rule of life ; it must be added, otherwise a snare will be laid in the w^ay of some plain men, that the use of com- mon forms of speech, generally understood, cannot be falsehood ; and, in general, that there can be no designed falsehood without designing to deceive. It must likewise be observed, that in numberless cases, a man may be under the strictest obligations to what he foresees will deceive, without his intending it. For it is impossible not to foresee, that the words and actions of men, in different ranks and employments, and of different educations, will perpetually be mistaken by each other : and it cannot but be so, whilst they will judge with the utmost carelessness, as they daily do, of what they are not, perhaps, enough in- formed to be competent judges of, even though they coii- sidered it with great attention. ANALYSIS OP BISHOP BUTLER'S SERMONS. PKEFACE. As the religious system of Bishop Butler is to be gathered from his " Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion," so his moral BYstem is to be found in his "Fifteen Sermons upon Human Nature, or Man considered as a Moral Agent." In order to appreciate the full meaning of these sermons, it is almost necessary to master the Preface, which stands prefixed to them. The following outline of it will be found useful. Though all men judge to some extent, few care to judge whether the arguments set before them be really conclusive or not. For proof, as such, they do not care ; and this tendency is increased by light and frivolous reading. Others, on the contrary, think no subject difficult, and so are not at the pains of weighing arguments. But all works require attention in proportion to the difficulty of their subject-matter. And moral treatises require special attenticr, because ideas fluctuate, and terms change their meaning. Light works may be accommodated to the reader, but the moral writer must state things as he finds them. And those only have a right to pronounce the following discourses difficult or obscure, who know whether such difficulty or obscurity could have been avoided or not. They should remember that, while ferplexity may be laid to the charge of the writer, obscurity lies in the subject-matter of a book. There are two ways of treating the subject of morals. The one starts with an inquiry into the abstract relations of things ; the other from a matter of fact, such as what is the particular nature of man, and what its several parts, &c., and then from these facts goes on to determine what course of life it is which corresponds to his whole nature. The former is the best formal proof ; the latter is more readily understood by most men, and peculiarly suited to satisfy a fair mind. Butler adopts, chiefly, this latter course. In the first three sermons, he proceeds upon it entirely. The intention of these"7 sermons is to show what is the nature of man, and how the ancient I moralists were right in asserting that virtue lay in following this nature, and vice in departing from it. In order to understand the truth of this position, we must state exactly what is meant by a "System." It is not merely a whole made up of several parts; but such a whole made up of parts which have a mutual relation to mch other, and are conducive to some end. Thus man is made up of appotites, passions, affections, and a conscience ; but this is not a SAG ANALYSIS OF SPmMON I. ^UPON HUMAN NATURE. complete account of man's inward frame and nature, because wo have not taken into account the relation of conscience to the rest, and the end to which his nature is adapted. If we view man in this light, it will be as clear that man is made for virtue as a ' watch for keeping time. i It follows on this, that if virtue be the end of man, vice is ' most opposed to his moral nature. And the heathen moralists meant this when they wrote : for even if they meant that vice was opposed to the higher part of his nature, the very idea of a higher and a lower part implies that they believed it to be a system, although possibly they may not have been able to explain themselves fully. The Preface next gives a brief outline of the argument of some of the sermons in consecutive order. The first t hree ser mons are to the following effect : Men and brutes both have certain appe- tites, but man has a ruling principle within him, called a conscience, which brutes have not. And therefore, although brutes, in pursuing their instincts, follow their entire nature, it does not follow that man is following nature when he pursues his appetites ; for he is following only a part, and that too the lower part, of his nature, and he is neglecting to follow conscience, which he ought to obey as absolute and supreme in his moral system. Thus, in spite of the immoral tenets of certain philoso- phers, man is a law to hirnself ; the very voice of conscience laying him under an obligation to act virtuously. The eleventh and twelfth sermons are the only other two which need to be specially mentioned here. Their outline is as follows : Benevolence and self-love are not opposed, but compatible. Our actions have for their objects either ourselves or others ; so far as they regard ourselves, they are the result of self-love ; so far as they regard others, they spring from benevolence ; and these two affections may coexist ; nay, they are so often united in the same action, that it becomes absurd to assert, as some do, that men are wholly actuated by the one or the other affection. The facts of human nature go equally to show the existence within us of both principles. And self-love, rightly understood, and in its due degree, is as good an affection as benevolence. It is as much to be regretted that men do not show more self-love in the world, as it is that they have so little benevolence. For if th«y wero to cultivate self-love — in other words, if they were uniformly to pursue their own true and highest good — much vice and misery would be avoided. SERMON I. — Upon Human Nature. The first three sermons bear the above title. We learn from them, first, that man's nature is a Constitution or System, and that conscience is the leading principle in it ; secondly, that con- SERMON I. UPON HUMAN NATURE. 847 science is given to man as a guide, teaching him that _e ii intended to live for the good of others as well as for his own. The proper office of conscience is to tell us whether a particular action be right or wrong. la the first sermon, Butler draws out his theory of human nature, and in it he regards conscience as simply one principle. In the second and third sermons, he shows that it is intended to be not only a principle, hntthe^ffovermmf one, a power which ought to command, and which cannot be dis- The fact that we are God's creatures, and that virtue is the law under which we are born, is a prior obligation to a life of piety, than the consideration that God sent his Son to save the world, and the consequent duties of Christians to each other. And yet the early Christians may have felt the latter to be the more power- ful motive in their own age. St. Paul, in Rom. xii. 4, 5, comparing human society to a body, means to assert, that as men have faculties which lead them to pursue their own good, so they have also faculties which lead them to have regard to the good of others. The relation of the various parts of the body to each other and to the whole, is analogous to that relation which we bear to our fellow men and to the whole human race. Society, however, does not resemble a dead body, but one animated with a soul ; in other words, it resembles the whole nature of man inclusive of its internal principles. The comparison, then, will lie between inlands nature, as respecting selfy and tending to his own private good, and man's nature as respect- ing society, and tending to the good of his fellow men. These endg are in fact coincident, but must be kept distinct. Hence it will appear, that we are made not only for our own good, but for that of society ; and to deny the one position is to deny the other. For, as a matter of fact, man has within him a principle of benevolence, or love of his fellow man ; an affectioo which is in some degree to society what love is to the individual. Again, the same will appear from the fact that our other pas- sions and affections which are distinct from benevolence and self- love, lead us as much to public as to private good, though some lead more immediately than others ; still, indirectly, the one set tend to private, the other to public good. Thirdly, as a matter of fact, men have within them a principle of reflection, called Conscience, a feeling which approves or disap- proves our actions. This principle does not confine itself to private good, but indirectly it regards the good of society : for it restrains men from acts of violence, and strengthens the dictates of natural affection. It is plainly impossible for us to do good and not approve what we do ; and the existence of such a principle as that of conscience is proved by facts. For let a man perform, lirst, an act of charity, and then an act of base ingrati • tude ; his conscience will approve the former act as strongly as it 848 SERMON n. — UPON HUMAN NATURE. will reprobate the latter. And as this principle has regard to the good of society as well as of the individual, it is clear thai man has been made for society. This social tendency of our nature is conJrmed by the fact that the most trivial circumstances furnish the basis of ties between man and man, and bind us together into one body ; so far, indeed, that it becomes as great an absurdity for a man to attempt to regard himself as free from the ties of society, as for a part of his natural body to disavow all relation to the rest of it. '* But it will be objected that we have within us a natural prin- ciple of Malevolence. We reply, that the fact that men will inflict misery on each other is no more a proof of the existence of such a principle, than the fact that men will do evil to themselves is a proof of the existence of a principle of self-hatred. The truth is, man has ungoverned passions, which, like everything besides, may be accidentally perverted to evil, though originally they aim at the good of our fellow man. Again, it may be objected that some men are found void of natural affection towards others. We reply, that so also are per- sons to be found without natural affection towards themselves, and we must not judge mankind in general from exceptional cases. In fact, men as often err against self-love as against benevo- lence ; in other words, as many persons contradict that part of their nature which leads them to regard their own good and hap- piness, as contradict that principle which teaches them to consult the good of their fellows. In fact, men err from setting too high a value on external goods and sensual pleasures ; and this arises from the little esteem and regard which they have for their own selves, or from not acting according to the result of that consider- ation : in other words, self-love is overcome by passion. Hence we see that we are each constituted and adapted as indi- viduals to attain the highest degree of happiness, and as members of society to attain the highest degree of virtue ; but in spite of this, men will not follow their nature entirely, but, by pursuing some present and momentary gratification, work their own misery and ruin. SERMON II.— Qpow Human Nature. / The object of this discourse is to show that the alleged strength 7 of man's passions is no real reason for yielding to them ; for that there is within us a higher principle, that of conscience, whose authority and voice outweighs their strength. We may fairly argue from the fitness of any creature to a '~~ . peculiar end, that Nature intended it for that peculiar end ; and ,J^ especially if it be complex. However, in moral mattes we must 6 SERMON II. UPON HUMAN NATURE. 34© guard against arguing from individual cases, and also against leaving out the principle of Conscience ; for it is from these sources that our ignorance of man's inward constitution arises. Yet there is sufficient agreement in men's constitution to admit of our inferring what is the end to which their nature points : and to argue from inward principles to outward conduct is as fair as to argue from the perceptions of our senses to speculative truth. And so we may argue from our feelings to their final causes ; foi though they may be more liable to error than our senses, still tbey Qever can be wholly mistaken. For example, no one can doubt that the inward feeling of shame was given to us to prevent us from doing shameful actions. We have already proved (in Sermon i.) that man is naturally led towards society, and that there is a faculty within him, dis- >^ tinct from all his propensities, to do good. But the objection S arises, " What has this to do with virtue and religion ? They re- quire, not mere desultory acts of benevolence, but a character formed on reflection. May it not be that as brutes have instincts which lead to several ends, so also has man, only with the addition of conscience 1 And as brutes act conformably to nature in fol- lowing whatever appetite may chance to prevail, may not man act naturally in doing the same, and in obeying his passions and his conscience by turns, according as they may chance to be stronger?'* We answer, that if this be true, then men are not " by nature a law unto themselves," and that if to follow nature be only to act as we please, there will be no power of deviating from nature, and nature can be no guide in morals. Again, we answer, that the word " nature " is used in three distinct senses. First, as any orie j)rinci'ple in man, without regard to its degree or kind. In this sense, as man is drawn different ways by contrary principles, he can be said to follow and to contradict nature at the same time. Secondly, it is used for the strongest passions, which, being bad, cause nature itself to be used in a bad sense. But neither of these two senses are adequate to the meaning of St. Paul, when he says that men are " a law unto themselves." A third meaning, then, is found in the law of nature written in marCs heart and con- trolled by conscience, that supreme principle which approves or dis- approves all his actions, and anticipates the future sentence of God. It is this conformity of man's actions to the law of con- science which alone can be the true test as to whether his conduct be natural or no. We go on now to explain what is meant by Conscience. A brute falling into a snare and being killed, after all, follows his own nature. A man doing the same thing, with a certain pros- pect of ruin, would not be following his own nature ; his act would be disproportionate to his nature, and consequently unna- tural. But how so ? It is not that he acted against self-love, vkir^h is a principle \n man superior to mere passion, and ono / 850 8EBM0N 111. UPON HUMAN NATUKE. which it would be unnatural to disobey. It is that ho acted ftgaiust the voice of conscience. The natural superiority of conscience will appear, if we cou- ^ sider man as composed of various parts, leaving out for the ^ moment all idea of their relative strength. For passion simply urges us to a certain object, without regarding the character of the means employed. Reflection comes in, and disapproves. Which, then, must be obeyed % Surely the latter. The former have 'power ; but the latter has authority : and thus it cannot be content merely to take its turn with other principles of action, but it implies judgment and superintendence : and had it strength, as it has right, it would absolutely govern the world. The office of conscience is to regulate man's conduct, passions, principles, and motives. Let us suppose that conscience did not exist, or were only of equal authority with our passions ; what would be the consequence ? Impiety would abound, and impiety is not as suitable to our nature as piety is. Thus a parricide acts according to the strongest principle within him : but he does not therefore act according to his whole nature ; and to imagine that he does so is absurd. SEEMON III. — Upon Human Nature. . In this discourse the leading idea is that of a regular system or constitution^ ynth. powers subordinate to each other. We may now see what is meant by Human Nature, when it is said that virtue consists in following it, and vice in departing from it. As a constitution does not imply merely a number of persons whose power is of different degrees, but also a subordina- tion of each to some one higher power and end, so does human nature. And as a constitution is violated by strength prevailing over authority, so it is also in the nature of man. (Thus tortures and death are contrary to the lower part of our nature only, but injustice is contrary to our nature itself ; in other words, to our whcle constitution.) And heoce it is evident that man is not intended to live and act according to his own inclination, but to be " a law unto himself." Let any man of fair mind, before he acts, ask himself "Is this right or wrong?" and conscience will guide him aright. Conscience, then, being granted to exist wdthin us, what is our obligation to fulfil its injunctions % Simply because God has given it to us as the law of our nature and our appointed guide. And any objection against paying it due obedience in reality proceeds on the false principle that we may go on without restraint and regard of others. And if it be meant that we are only to throw aside troublesome restraints, then we are agreed. For on this sup- position virtue must be pursued, and so also must benevoieacs, BERMON IV. THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. 351 for both of these are pleasurable, while anger, envy, &c., are painful. But the truth is that both virtue and vice have their own restraints, anl must regard others ; but the restraints on the side of vice, such as fear and shame, are the more painful of the two, while the restraint of virtue ceases in proportion as we prac- tise it. Even on this ground, then, we ought to follow virtue in preference to vice ; so seldom can our duty and our interest be different, and so true it is that virtue and self-love are coin- cident. SERMON IV. — On the Government of the Tongue. One of the most material restraints under which virtue placea us is the obligation of " bridling our tongue." Let us then ask (1) what vice is opposed to this precept? and (2) when a man can be fairly said 'to act up to it? 1. The vice alluded to is not evil-speaking from malice, nor from selfish design. It is talkativeness, or a disposition to talk at random without thought of doing either good or harm. Now talkative persons, when other subjects fail them, will indulge in scandal or divulge secrets ; or, further, they will go on to invent matter, and all in order to engage attention ; and if a quarrel ensue, they will defame and revile their enemy, but without malice. As all our faculties may be made instruments of evil, so also may the tongue. Deliberate and wilful falsehood, indulged in from malice or revenge, does not arise from having no government over the tongue. But there is a vicious habit, without malice, which arises from a desire to arrest attention ; and in these people the very least thing excites the tongue, and so gives birth to in- numerable evils, especially to strife. Its effects are often as bad as those of malice or envy: it wrongly distributes praise and blame, and, being used at random, always does harm. 2. In what does the Government of the Tongue consist ? "We are to measure our faculties by the end for which they have been given to us. The end of speech clearly is to communicate our thoughts to each other, either for real business or for enjoyment. In this secondary use, it contributes to promote friendship, and so is serviceable to virtue, and its tendency is to general good. Corresponding to these two uses is the abuse of speech. As to its primary end, deceit in business does not come within our scope. It is in its secondary sense that it becomes the object of our in- quiry, for the government of the tongue relates chiefly to what we call Conversation. Certain cautions are to be observed in go- verning the tongue. First, that there is a fit time to speak and a time to keep silence. This rule is too often forgotten ; and thoy who forget it, too often, if they amuse at all, amuse at their own 9^^ SERMON v.— ON COMPASSION. expense. The times for silence are when they are in the company of their superiors, or when the discourse is of subjects above themselves ; and these obvious rules are generally passed over by those who in their talkative mood forget that the very essence of conversation is that it should be mutual, and that talkative persons are generally disregarded. Men, then, should be silent both when they have nothing to say, or nothing but what were better left unsaid. In talking on indifferent subjects, the first rule is not to spend too much time upon them; the second, to be quite sure that they are indifferent. Conversation about other people and their matters is often very dangerous ; as in such cases we cannot always be indifferent and neutral, or escape from being drawn into rivalry. But as we cannot entirely avoid speaking of others, we should take care that what we say be true. It is important to know the characters of the bad as well as the good, and abuse will scarcely follow if these two rules be observed : 1st, That to speak evil of a man undeservedly is worse than to speak good of him undeservedly; for the former is a direct injury to the person as well as to society. 2nd, That a good man will always speak all the good which he can of his fellows, and never any harm unless he has some positive reason for so doing ; for example, just indig- nation against villany, or to prevent the innocent from being de- ceived. For we must always study justice: and we do justice and cervice to society at large by exposing bad characters. Those who observe the above cautions and precepts have due government over their tongues. SERMON Y.--Upon Compassum* Every man is to be regarded as a social being as well as an indi- vidual : in either capacity his duties are coincident ; some of hii affections being primarily of a social character and others of a private, compassion is a social affection, and is a sort of substitu- tion of others for ourselves. And this is natural ; for if there be • Hobbes and others attributed compassion to self-love, and asserted that it arose from a feeling of apprehension of danger. But this position is evidently absurd ; for if so, the most timorous man would be the most com- passionate. Again, the compassionate man, if he fall into distress, is most eapecially an object of compassion ; but the most timorous man is not : there- fore fear and compassion are not the same. The true account of compassion is that it consists of three distinct perceptions, of which the first alone is an essential part, the other two being accidental. They are, first, sorrow at the eight of a fellow-creature suffering ; secondly, satisfaction arising from a con- sciousness of our own freedom from suffering; and, lastly, reflection on our own liability to the Siime. Hobbes has made it to consist in tie two la(t«( perceptions only. SERMON v.— ON COMPASSION. 353 in us any other feeling than self-love (and it is clear that there is), why should we not have a real affection for others ? Now, as every one may be in happiness or in sorrow, it is clear that we may either delight in their prosperity or suffer in their distress. The latter we do much oftener than the former : and this is shown by language itself, which has no word to express the former, ex- cept " congratulation^'' while the latter we call " compassion ;" the latter we regard as an original affection of our nature, but the former we regard as a consequence of our general goodwill to mankind. The reason is as follows: ia prosperity men have gained their ends, and they need nothing from us ; in distress the case is otherwise ; the latter requires a particular affection for its relief ; the former not. And if in both cases there be a particular affection, the one must rest in itself, while the latter carries us on to assist the distressed. It may be objected, " Have we not sorrows enough of our own, without appropriating those of our neighbour 1 and should we not compassionate from motives of reason rather than from passion ?" We answer, perhaps it may be so in the abstract : but we are treat- ing of imperfect man, who is dependent on his fellow man ; and it would be as bad to eradicate all affections from our nature, as to be entirely governed by them. Reason in itself is often not an adequate motive, but it becomes such when it is joined with affec- tions ; and when this is the case, men act suitably to their nature and circumstances. These affections are part of our nature, and we might as well attempt to get rid of our outward senses, as of them. God has no passions nor senses either ; but we have ; and they have been given to us to assist our imperfect nature. It is wrong consequently to say that we are to listen to reason alone, and to suppress compassion as a weakness : for (1) the exercise of these natural affections is in itself good ; and (2) these affections restrain their opposites. i. It is a good thing to bear our part in bringing about uni- versal good-will. This is enforced by our Blessed Lord in hia Parable of the Lost Sheep. (St. Luke xv.) It may here possibly be objected, that, as we cannot help com- miserating as well as rejoicing with others, tliere must be incon- veniences in compassion. To this we reply, that there may be evil in it, but that there is more good than evil ; for at all events the distressed feel a relief through it, and they feel additional sorrow when compassion is withheld. Our ways of speaking show lis that any feeling, carried to excess, is wrong : for example, de- light in being pitied verges on a weakness of mind ; but even men of fortitude require compassion, especially when the mind and the temper are enfeebled by sickness or by long trials. The act of compassion, too, is attended with a pleasure, arising from a secret consciousness of doing right, and a sense of our own freedom from tho misery which we relieve, somewhat analogous to the sensatiou S64 SERMON VI. ON COMPASSIOW. which we feel on a sudden restoration to health. Add to which, that those who have conquered all feelings of compassion grow callous and insensible. ii. Take away compassion, and men would become cruel and injurious. Private interest is not sufficiently provided for by self- love alone ; and therefore our affections are given us as a further security. As in the body hunger prompts us to take food, which reason alone would not do, so it is affection, and not reason, whioh sets us on the performance of our social duties. And benevolence is far from being so strong a motive with the mass of mankind that we could afford to throw off its concomitant affections ; and, in defect of reason, compassion itself sets us to do good. Add to which, that sympat'ny with the oppressed is society's strong bond against tyrants. As a want of appetite proceeds from bodily defect, so does a want of affection proceed from a mental defect ; and those who set about eradicating man's natural affections found it easier to era- dicate these tender feelings than those of envy and resentment. And there is no sphere of life, except the judicial perhaps, in which compassion is not requisite. It is only men of pleasure and lust who harden their hearts in order to deaden themselves against remorse. And the Holy Gospels tell us that Jesus Christ wept at the grave of Lazarus. As a fact, then, we weep more than we rejoice with others ; and the reason of this shall be considered in the next Sermon, Too great accuracy and refinement, it is to be observed, is wrong in morals and religion. They must appeal to common sense ; for they appeal to mankind. It is almost inconceivable that any man of sense could be so blind as to deny the existence of compas- sion or of any affection for the good of others. Such doctrines at once shock common sense, the neglect of which gives birth to all enthusiasm and superstition. SERMON VI. — Upon Compassion. There is a close correspondence between the natural and moral world, between man's inward frame and his external position: and a comparison ,of the two furnishes us with instances of final causes. Ail our affections lead us to certain courses of action : as, for instance. Compassion, to relieve distress. These final causes, drawn from an observance of the above correspondence, serve to show us our duty and to enforce on us its practice. We are capable of much more lasting misery than happiness, and we can all do much more harm than good to others. It is more easy to relieve misery than to promote happiness. Compas- sion, therefore, is necessary in order to prevent us from abusing SERMON Vr. — ON COMPASSION. 365 that power, and comes in as an additional restraint and security against the infliction of suffering. The good-will which exists be- tween man and man teaches us to abstain from doing evil ; again, to relieve distress ; and, lastly, to promote the actual happiness of our neighbour. It is with the first and second of these points thai . compassion has to do. The final causes of compassion are, first, to prevent, and, se- condly, to relieve, misery. Compassion may put an end to resent- ment which an injurer feels against the person whom he has in- jured. The world is not intended to be a scene of perfect happi- ness or of perfect misery. We have reliefs : time mitigates our sorrows ; and here is an instance of compassion on the part of nature. Benevolence is checked by worldly interest, or by dislike of the pain which is caused by the very sight of misery. Here, then, compassion steps in ; and if men would allow it freedom of action, few objects of charity would pass unrelieved. For com- passion is a debt which we owe both to ourselves and to others; and to try to rid ourselves of the feeling of compassion is as foolish as to endeavour to get rid of hunger by turning away from food. Liberality is praiseworthy, but it has not necessarily to do with misery ; Compassion is occupied entirely in the relief of misery. Mercy imites the two by a more promiscuous distribu- tion of favours, and is consequently superior to either taken separately; and compassion leads us to a uniform and disinte- rested exercise of mercy. Since it is more easy to alleviate misery than positively to pro- mote happiness, we shall do the most good by aiming at the former end. And compassion should be exercised towards the poor rather than the rich ; for benefits are to be measured not by the gift, but by the gift conjointly with the need. But still, good as compassion is, it may be carried too far ; so far, indeed, as to defeat its own object. But the general tendency of mankind is towards the opposite extreme of insensibility. What, then, is the use of compassion ] It may teach us to avoid giving or suffering pain ; and this is a better course than to be always aiming at high enjoyments, which, after all, are but visionary. The miseries of life have been brought home to us by compassion, and so are apt to beget humility. For sadness im- {)roves the heart : and by the exercise of compassion we may all earn lessons of adversity without suffering ourselves. We may also learn to correct and lower our notions of happiness, and to bring them down to the standard of what is actually attainable : to remove all feelings of obstinacy and wilfulness ; and to remem!)cr Um frailty of our mortal state. A A 2 356 SERMON VII. — Upon the Character of Balaam. The words of the text (Numb, xxiii. 10) imply a comparison, not merely between the ends of good and of bad men, but also between their lives. The history of Balaam is next given : and the whole of his character may be summed up in one word, Self-deceit. That is, he was an example of a man who wished to reconcile his own wicked designs with his known duty to God ; and who desired, in spite of an evil life, to die the death of the righteous. We see in him a wicked man persisting in his evil deeds in spite of his better judgment. Though not insensible to the impressions of religion, he coolly and voluntarily prefers to follow his own inte- rest : to choose evil instead of good, as very many others do. In analyzing this character, we must observe, that men's worldly hopes and fears are often disproportionate to their objects. Strong passions alone will not account for their preferring a trifling pre- sent interest for a greater interest at a distance. They clearly do make use of some positive means for laying conscience asleep and deceiving their ownselves. Thus Balaam continued to palliate his evil conduct to himself by observing the letter while he broke the spirit of God's commandment. On the one hand, probably, his con- sciousness of wickedness must have destroyed all hope of dying the death of the righteous ; and on the other, his partial regard to his duty might have kept him from despair. Balaam had a true knowledge of God and of His will; yet he sought indul- gences for his own wickedness, and then deceived himself. Many persons habitually do the same : they deceive themselves in order to lull conscience into security ; they make, as it were, a composition with God, and half resolve hereafter to make a change. Others sin on, and afterwards make a sacrifice for it; yet these are equally dishonest. We often see our duty at first sight, and then after-deliberation becomes a mere endeavour to explain it away. In spite of our knowledge of God, we sin with calmness and thought, and try to persuade ourselves that all is right : and this is the self-deceit which is opposed to the child-like simplicity enjoined by Christ. Yet, however full of deceit they may be, all men desire to die the. death of the righteous. Indeed, every one, if he could, would desire to be in the state of an innocent man. The truth is, we are naturally dissatisfied with vice, because we have within us a consciousness of having done what is evil, and also a fear of fu- ture punishment ; and both of these restraints we can silence and drown, if we will, by self-deceit. If this be so, then, we have within us a convincing proof that vice is the misery of man as a moral agent. 857 SERMON Ylll.—On Rasmtnmit ** Perfect goodness and benevolence being the law of our nature, why have we within us such a principle as that of Revenge ?" To answer this question, we must take nature as it is, and look to its correspondence with our actual circumstances : to take any other ground, as (for example) to inquire why we were placed in our present state, is an impertinent curiosity. But still it is right, taking our nature as it is, to ask for what end resentment waa given to us. The old teachers were wrong in saying, " Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thy enemy." The truth is, that our passions cannot in themselves be evil ; their abuses are : and thus malice and revenge spring from the original passion of resentment. Resentment is of two kinds, sudden and deliberate. That re- sentment is not wholly bad is implied by St. Paul, when he says " Be ye angry and sin not." Sudden anger, generally, is a mere instinct ; and (though occasionally it may be roused by injury) it is mostly occasioned by mere sensation. The final cause of this sudden anger is self-defence against hurt of any kind, and does not subserve the administration of justice. Deliberate anger is in- tended to prevent or to punish injustice. We feel a natural and proper indignation against a feigned story of villany : and would that indignation be less just, if the story were true? We ought to feel it, and plainly it is the expression of our sense of good and evil. It is not malice ; it is a right feeling against vice ; and be- comes a bond of society. And as we love ourselves better than others, so we feel the same indignation, only in a higher degree, if the injury be done to ourselves. Our feeling is one of resentment against injury and crime ; against moral evil, not natural evil : which is evident from a consideration of the circumstances which aggravate or lessen the fault, as friendship, or former obligations. This is what we feel, even though we do not reflect upon it ; and though we do not resent harm when done unintentionally, yet we do so when it is caused through carelessness ; and our resentment is less or greater according as the injury is more deliberately inflicted. The prevention of injury, then,- is the great end of settled or deliberate resentment : and it is a natural weapon, which may be used or abused. And though sudden anger may be roused by harm, it may also be roused by injury; but it is injury alone by which settled resentment can be excited. The abuses of sudden anger are, either Passion, in a stronger mind, or in a weak one Peevishiess. The abuses of deliberate anger are, when we imagine an injury where none exists or ima- gine it to be greater than it is ; or when we call mere harm an in- jury ; when it is allowed to go to too great lengths, or to inflict 358 SERMON IX. ON THE FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. pain by way of gratification. One thing always accompanies its ))erversion, and this is a determination not to be set right ; and in this pride kas a great share. And as resentment is one of the instruments of death put into our hands, it becomes a balance to the weakness of pity. Suppose we felt no indignation against injury, then compassion would impede the administration of jus- tice ; for men are so much more keenly moved by misery than by happiness that indignation and resentment are necessary. The good influence of resentment is, that it restrains injury where virtue cannot, and brings offenders to justice when cool reflection would let them go unpunished. Hence we may learn that vice is naturally bad, and must finally be punished; and that virtue is naturally good, and will finally be rewarded ; for we can- not commit an injury without being self-condemned. Again, we may learn not to think our nature bad because it is abused: for the passion of anger is innocent, or even generous. Its abuse alone is bad, when it assumes the shape of malice and revenge. SERMON IX. — On the Forgiveness of Injuries. In a perfect state there would be no need of such affections as fear, compassion, and forgiveness ; for they are but remedies against certain disorders, incumbrances suited to our condition, but such as we must carry about with us. We have a natural emotion against injury and injustice, which is always sufficiently weak when the injury is not done to one's own self. Forgiveness refers only to such injuries as are inflicted on one's own self. In such cases indignation is right up to a cer- tain point, but no further. The precept of forgiveness forbids the abuse of this natural feeling. Common custom supports the doctrine of revenge, and forbids forgiveness. But we will show, 1st, that revenge is unlawful ; and, 2nd, that we lie under certain obligations to forgive our injurers. 1st. Suppose we were at liberty to return evil for evil, what would be the consequence '? Ill-will begets ill-will, and injury begets further injury ; and as every man would decide as to the amount of injury, his passion would be judge, and injuries and miseries would be the result. Such a passion, then, ought not to be permitted. 2nd. Resentment is intended to prevent disorders in society, now unlimited resentment would breed much disorder in society, foi mankind make up one great body. How stands resentment to society at large ] It is given us as a secondary passion, to diminish the number of injuries. It is a painful means, and must never be indulged for itself. Our other affections may indeed be gratified in particular instances which are not connected with their peculiai end, and this innocently ; but it is otherwise with resentment SERMON X. ON SELF-DECEIT 359 for its end is to prevent injury, that is, misery ; and to gratify it for itself is to prodiice misery. And this because resentment differs from all our other affections in respect of its end, which is the misery of our fellow-creatures. If it be urged that good effects flow from resentment, we an- swer that, though God brings good out of evil, vice is vice to him who is guilty of it. The precept of " loving our enemies " presupposes the existence of good-will towards mankind in general, and so in effect becomes tantamount to the duty of forgiving injuries. Indeed, resent- ment is not opposed to good-will ; we may feel both together: and it is only when the former destroys the latter that it is excessive and becomes revenge. It may be objected here that lesser degrees of vice in a person may fairly lessen our benevolence towards him ; and if so, why may not a higher degree of vice destroy and cancel it ? The an- swer is, because he has a prior claim on us, as a sensible creature, capable of happiness and misery, which is wholly independent of his moral character. Nor can self-love dispense with benevolence. Men, however, will say that they ought to do good to others only 80 long as they do not harm them. But this is to forget the prior obligation of good-will to all. Our love towards our enemies is not required to be great : we ought to have the same sense of an injury inflicted on us by an enemy as a good man, not interested in the case, would feel ; this is right and practicable. To enforce this duty, let us add that people ought always to strive to underrate an injury, for we are all of us bad judges in our own cause, through the partiality of self-love. Anger, also, is partial, and is apt to condemn a man's whole character and con- duct for the fault of a part. To judge correctly on this head is a simple duty, not a virtue. We must remember that there is, pro- perly speaking, no such a thing as ill-will ; and that the original offence may be traceable to self-love as its source. Again, we must remember that injurers are to be looked upon not only with indignation, but with compassion : and, finally, that to forgive injuries is rational, humane, and necessary : for we have within us an apprehension that we shall hereafter be dealt with as we have dealt with others. SERMON X.— Ow Self-Deceit. The text shows us how David was brought to see his own fuilt by the prophet Nathan. His conduct in this matter ex- ibited great partiality to self. And this is a common failing: men thiiik, reason, and judge, quite differently in their own case and in that of another person : and it differs in degree 360 SEUMON X. 0.\ SELF-DECEIT. in different persons. It prevents us from knowing our own sel^es^ and from judging rightly of our thoughts and actions. Through want of reflection, men are confident in their own moral character, and are disposed, through self-love, to think that all is right and well with them. Let us think how grossly one person may be imposed upon by another in whom he has perfect confidence ; but surely he may be much more entirely deceived by himself. Hence men disregard reproof as not belonging to theii own selves, and neglect moral reflections. Some persons are sc wholly taken up with their own interest as to be blinded by it to everything besides. Some judge wrongly of everything that con- cerns themselves, though they are able to judge rightly enough on what concerns another; and yet in so doing they are not con- sciously dishonest. Vice in general proceeds from an overweening regard for men's selves and their own interest ; and though for the most part it in- fluences the passions only, in some cases it affects the understand- ing and the judgment. That this vicious feeling does exist ia clear ; and one evil consequence of it is that it prevents men from applying to themselves the reproofs addressed to their course of behaviour. Joined with hardness of heart, too, it will carry a man to almost any lengths of wickedness, oppression, and injustice. The particular province of the self-deceit of which we speak lies not in open acts of grosser wickedness, but in lesser vices, such as in the neglect of some particular and ill-defined duty. The truth is that society cannot always go on fixed and deter- minate rules. Right and wrong cannot always be defined as to their exact limits ; and still, in spite of being unable to define, we can and do see what is liberal, merciful, oppressive, * ^ i***" - plicable to the several particular relations and circumstances in life. The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this latter method. The three first wholly. They were intended to explain what is meant by the nature of man, when it is said that virtue consists in following, and vice in deviating from it ' ; and by explaining to show that the assertion is true. That the ancient moralists had '\ some inward feeling or other, which they chose to express in this manner, that man is born to virtue, that it consists in following nature, and that vice is more contrary to this nature than tortures or death, their works in our hands are instances. Now a person who found no mystery in this way of speaking of the ancients ; who, without being very explicit with himself, kept to his natural feeling, went along with them, and found within himself a full conviction, that what they laid down was just and true ; such a one would probably wonder to see a point, in which he never per- ceived any difficulty, so laboured as this is, in the second and third Sermons ; insomuch perhaps as to be at a loss for the occasion, scope, and drift of them. But it need not be thought strange that this manner of expression, though familiar with them, and if not usually carried so far, yet not uncommon amongst ourselves, should want explaining ; since there are several perceptions daily felt and spoken of, which yet it may not be very easy at first view to explicate, to distinguish from all others, and ascertain ' Butler's sympathies, as to philosophical doctrine, are undoubtedly with the Stoics. In order to describe the peculiar sentiment of rejection and dis- approval with which we regard actions unjust or otherwise wrong, he borrows the fortmda of the Stoics, which Cicero had borrowed before him, and in which such actions are said to be contrary to nature. See Cicero " De Officiis," iii. 4, — " Redeo ad formulam. Detrahere aliquid alteri, et hominera hominis incommodo suum augere commodum, magis est contra naturam quair mors, quam paupertas, quam dolor, quara caetera, quae possunt aut corpon accidere aut rebus externis." And in his " Dissertation on Virtue," p. 334, Butler quotes the commencement of that classical work of the hiter Stoics, Arrian's Epictetm ; in which we read that, " Of the other faculties, you will find none which contemplates itself, still less which approves or dis- approves its own acts," which way of speaking, Butler savs, he has adopted •• M the most full and least liable to cavil."— Whexvell. {Ed.) AUTHORS PREFACE. 373 exactly what the idea or perception is. The many treatises upon the passions are a proof of this ; since so many would never have undertaken to unfold their several complications, and trace and resolve them into their principles, if they had thought what they were endeavouring to show was obvious to every one, who felt and talked of those passions. Thus, though there seems no ground to doubt, but that the generality of mankind have the inward per- ception expressed so commonly in that manner by the ancient moralists, more than to doubt whether they have those passions ; yet it appeared of use to unfold that inward conviction, and lay it open in a more explicit manner, than I had seen done ; especially when there were not wanting persons, who manifestly mistook the whole thing, and so had great reason to express themselves dis- satisfied with it. A late author of great and deserved reputation says, that to place virtue in following nature, is at best a loose way of talk. And he has reason to say this, if what I think he intends to express, though with great decency, be true, that scarce any other sense can be put upon those words, but acting as any of the several parts, without distinction, of a man's nature happened most to incline him •. Whoever thinks it worth while to consider this matter thoroughly, should begin with stating to himself exactly the idea of a system, economy, or constitution of any particular nature, or particular anything : and he will, I suppose, find, that it is a one or a whole, / L^ made up of several parts ; but yet, that the several parts even con- ' sidered as a whole do not complete the idea, unless in the notion of a whole you include the relations and respects which those parts have to each other. Every work both of nature and of art is a system : and as every particular thing, both natural and arti- ficial, is for some use or purpose out of and beyond itself, one may add, to what has been already brought into the idea of a system, its conduciveness to this one or more ends. Let us instance in a watch — Suppose the several parts of it taken to pieces, and placed apart from each other ; let a man have ever so exact a notion of these several parts, unless he considers the respects and relations which they have to each other, he will not have anything like the idea of a watch. Suppose these several parts brought together and any how united : neither will he yet, be the union ever so close, have an idea which will bear any resemblance to that of a watch. But let him view those several parts put together, or con- sider them as to be put together in the manner of a watch ; let him form a notion of the relations which those several parts have to each other — all conducive in their respective ways to this pur- pose, showing the hour of the day ; and then he has the idea of a watch. Thus it is with regard to the inward frame of maa Appetites, passions, affections, and the principle of refiectiou, 20U' * Eeligion of Nature Delineated, ed. 1724, pp. 22, 23. 374 author's preface. gidered merely as thd several |»arts of our inward nature, do not at all give us an idea of the system or constitution of this nature; because the constitution is formed by somewhat not yet taken into consideration, namely, by the relations which these several parts have to each other ; the chief of which is the authority of retiec- tion or conscience. It is from considering the relations which the several appetites and passions in the inward frame have to each other, and, above all, the supremacy of reflection or conscience, that we get the idea of the system or constitution of human nature. And from the idea itself it will as fully appear, that this our nature, i, e., constitution, is adapted to virtue, as from the idea of a watch it appears, that its nature, ^. e., constitution or system, is adapted to measure time. What in fact or event commonly happens is nothing to this question. Every work of art is apt to be out of order : but this is so far from being according to its system, that let the disorder increase, and it will totally destroy it'. This is merely by way of explanation, what an economy, system, or constitution is. And thus far the cases are perfectly parallel. If we go further, there is indeed a diflference, nothing to the present purpose, but too important a one ever to be omitted. A machine is inanimate and passive : but we are agents''^. Our constitution is put in our own puwer. We are charged with it; and therefore are accountable for any disorder or violation of it. Thus nothing can possibly be more contrary to nature than vice ; meaning bj nature not only the several parts of our internal frame, but also the constitution of it. Poverty and disgrace, tortures and death, are not so contrary to it. Misery and injustice are indeed equally contrary to some different parts of our nature taken singly: but injustice is moreover contrary to the whole constitu- tion of the nature. If it be asked, whether this constitution be really what those philosophers meant, and whether they would have explained themselves in this manner; the answer is the same, as if it should be asked, whether a person, who had often used the word resent' ment, and felt the thing, would have explained this passion ex- actly in the same manner, in which it is done in one of these Discourses. As I have no doubt, but that this is a true account of that passion, which he referred to and intended to express by the word resentment; so I have no doubt, but that this is the true account of the ground of that conviction which they referred to, ' Whatever has a tendency to destroy a system or constitution shows that it is itself no part of that system, but something alien and foreign to it. It is a maxim in the moral as well as in the physical world, that nothing destroj's itself. — Ed. ^ See the point of Free Will worked out more fully in the Analogy, Part i. ch. vi. on ' Necessity.' " As a matter of fact/' says our author, " we are treated by God as free agents ; and that is our best proof that we am author's preface. 876 when they said, vice was contrary to nature. And though it should be thought that they meant no more than that vice was contrary to the higher and better part of our nature ; even this implies such a constitution as I have endeavoured to explain. For the very terms, higher and better, imply a relation or respect of parts to each other ; and these relative parts, being in one and the same nature, form a constitution, and are the very idea of it. They had a perception that injustice was contrary to their nature, and that pain was so also.- They observed these two perceptions totally different, not in degree, but in kind : and the reflecting upon each of them, as they thus stood in their nature, wrought a full intuitive conviction, that more was due, and of right belonged to one of these inward perceptions, than to the other : that it demanded in all cases to govern such a creature as man. So that, upon the whole, this is a fair and true account of what was the ground of their conviction; of what they intended to refer to, when they said, virtue consisted in following nature: a manner of speaking not loose and undeterminate, but clear and distinct, strictly just and true. Though I am persuaded the force of this conviction is felt by j *-7 almost every one ; yet since, considered as an argument and put in / words, it appears somewhat abstruse, and since the connection of it is broken in the first three Sermons, it may not be amiss to give the reader the whole argument here in one view. Mankind has various instincts and principles of action, as brute creatures have; some leading most directly and immediately to the good of the community, and some most directly to private good. Man has several which brutes have not ; particularly reflection or conscience, an approbation of some principles or actions, and disapprobation of others. Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action, according to J-O certain rules ; suppose the constitution of their body, and the objects around them. The generality of mankind also obey their instincts and prin- ciples, all of them ; those propensions we call good, as well as the bad, according to the same rules ; namely, the constitution of their body, and the external circumstances which they are in. [There- . I fore it is not a true representation of mankind to affirm, that they ^ are wholly governed by self-love', the love of power, and sensual appetites: since, as on the one hand they are often actuated bj these, without any regard to right or wrong ; so on the other it i& manifest fact, that the same persons, the generality, are frequently influenced by friendship, compassion, gratitude ; and even a general abhorrence of what is base, and liking of what is fair and just, takes its turn amongst the other motives of action, This ia ' He alludes here casually to the ^heorv of Hobbes, which he controverts at greater length in Serraoa i. and the Notes there added. — Ed, /f 376 authoe's pkeface. the partial inadequate notion of human nature treated of in th« first Discourse : and it is by this nature, if one may speak so, that the world is in fact influenced, and kept in that tolerable order, in which it is.] Brutes, in acting according to the rules before mentioned, their bodily constitution and circumstances, act suitably to their whole nature. [It, is, however to be distinctly noted, that the reason why we affirm this is not merely that brutes in fact act so ; for this alone, however universal, does not at all determine, whether such course of action be correspondent to their whole nature: but the reason of the assertion is, that as in acting thus they plainly act conformably to somewhat in their nature, so, from all observations we are able to make upon them, there does not appear the least ground to imagine them to have anything else in thei\ nature, which requires a different rule or course of action.] Mankind also in acting thus would act suitably to their wholo nature, if no more were to be said of man's nature than what has been now said ; if that, as it is a true, were also a complete adequate account of our nature. But that is not a complete account of man's nature. Somewhat further must be brought in to give us an adequate notion of it ; namely, that one of those principles of action, conscience or reflec- tion, compared with the rest as they all stand together in the nature of man, plainly bears upon it marks of authority' over aU the rest, and claims the absolute direction of them all, to allow or forbid their gratification : a disapprobation of reflection being in itself a principle manifestly superior to a mere propension. And the conclusion is, that to allow no more to this superior principle or part of our nature, than to other parts ; to let it govern and guide only occasionally in common with the rest, as its turn happens to come, from the temper and circumstances one happens to be in ; this is not to act conformably to the constitution of man : neither can any human creature be said to act conformably to his constitution of nature'^, unless he allows to that superior principle the absolute authority which is due to it. And this conclusion is abundantly confirmed from hence, that one may determine what course of action the economy of man's nature requires, without so much as knowing in what degrees of strength the several principles prevail, or which of them have actually the greatest influence. The practical reason of insisting so much upon this natural ' It is, in the language of ancient philosophy, r« nyiftovtxn. It rules, or Rt least is intended to rule, over the other principles of man's nature ; and when it does not exercise this authoritative control, so far the purposes of God are set aside, the divinely-ordered system is broken in upon, and disorder ensues. It must rule alone and supreme. — Ed. '^ It is only when by " nature " we understand the whole constitution of man's moral nature thua drawn out, that the words of the poet are true : " Nunquam aliud natura, uliud sapientia dicit." — Juv. {fid.) author's preface. 377 mthority of the principle of reflection or conscience is, that it eeems in g;reat measure overlooked by many, who are by no meana the worst sort of men. It is thought sufficient to abstain from ^ gross wickedness, and to be humane and kind to such as happen J ^ to come in their way. Whereas in reality the very constitution of our nature requires that we bring our whole conduct before ithis superior faculty; wait its determination; enforce upon our- selves its authority, and make it the business of cur lives, as it is absolutely the whole business of a moral agent, to conform ourselves to it. This is the true meaning of that ancient precept, EevereJici ?L The not taking into consideration this authority, which is implied in the idea of reflex approbation or disapprobation, seems a material deficiency or omission in Lord Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue. He has shown beyond all contradiction, that virtue is naturally the mterest or happiness, and vice the misery', of such a creature as man, placed in the circumstances which we are in this world. But suppose there are particular exceptions : a case which this author was unwilling to put, and yet surely it is to be put : or suppose a case which he has put and determined, that of a sceptic not convinced of this happy tendency of virtue, or being of a contrary opinion. His determination is, that it would be without remedy'^. One may say more explicitly, that leaving out the authority of reflex approbation or disapprobation, such a one would be under an obligation to act viciously ; since interest, one's own happiness, is a manifest obligation, and there is not supposed to be any other obligation in the case. " But does it much mend the matter to take in that natural authority of reflection ? There indeed would be an obligation to virtue ; but would not the obligation from supposed interest on the side of vice remain ?" If it should, yet to be under two contrary obliga- tions, i. e., under none at all, would not be exactly the same, as to be under a formal obligation to be vicious, or to be in circum- stances in which the constitution of man's nature plainly required that vice should be preferred. But the obligation on the side of interest really does not remain. For the natural authority of the principle of reflection is an obligation the most near and intimate, the most certain and known : whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear no more than probable ; since no man can be ' Thus far Paley also proceeds in his " Moral Philosophy," Book ii. ch. v. " The method of coming at the will of God concerning every action by the light of nature, is to inquire into the tendency of that action to promote or diminish the general happiness." Butler would of course allow the identity of Virtue and Happiness, so far as to say that where there ie not Virtue, there can be no Happiness ; but he would make Happiness to consist in Virtue, not the latter in the former. See especially Serm. xii. oa the *' Lovi of our Neip-hbour," and the Notes in loco, — Ed. ^ Characteristics, v. ii, p. 69. ^ S78 AUTHORS PREFACE. certain in any circamstances that vice is his interest in the present world, much less can he be certain against another : and thus the certain obligation would entirely supersede and destrov the uncertain one; which yet would have been of real force with- out the former. In truth, the taking in this consideration totally changes the whole state of the case ; and shows, what this author does not seem to have been aware of, that the greatest degree of scepticism which he thought possible will still leave men under the strictest moral obligations, whatever their opinion be concerning the hap- Einess of virtue, For that mankind upon reflection felt an appro- ation of what wa.3 good, and disapprobation of the contrary, he thought a plain matter of fact, as it undoubtedly is, which none could deny, but from mere affectation. Take in, then, that autho- rity and obligation, which is a constituent part of this reflex approbation, and it will undeniably follow, though a man should doubt of everything else, yet, that he would still remain under the nearest and most certain obligation to the practice of virtue ; an obligation implied in the very idea of virtue, in the very idea of reflex approbation. And how little influence soever this obligation alone can be expected to have in fact upon mankind, yet one may appeal even to interest and self-love, and ask, since from man's nature, con- )5 dition, and the shortness of life, so little, so very little indeed, can i possibly in any case be gained by vice ; whether it be so prodigious a thing to sacrifice that little to the most intimate of all obliga- tions ; and which a man cannot transgress without being self- condemned, and, unless he has corrupted his nature, without real self-dislike : this question, I say, may be asked, even upon suppo- sition that the prospect of a future life were ever so uncertain. The observation, that man is thus by his very nature a law to himself, pursued to its just consequences, is of the utmost impor- tance; because from it it will follow, that though men should, through stupidity or speculative scepticism, be ignorant of, or dis- believe, any authority in the universe to punish the violation of ^ this law ; yet, if there should be such authority, they would be as ' really liable to punishment, as though they had been beforehand convinced, that such punishment would follow. For in whatever sense we understand justice, even supposing, what I think would be very presumptuous to assert, that the end of divine punish- ment is no other than that of civil punishment, namely, to prevent future mischief; upon this bold supposition, ignorance or disbelief of the sanction would by no means exempt even from this justice : because it is not foreknowledge of the punishment which renders us obnoxious to it, but merely violating a known obligation. And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a manifest error or mistake in the author now cited, unless perhaps he has in- tautiously expressed himself so as to be misunderstood; namely, author's preface. 379 kbat it is malice only, and not goodness, which can make us afraid '. Whereas in reality, goodness is ttie natural and just object of the greatest fear to an ill man. Malice may be appeased or satiated ; humour may change, but goodness is a fixed, steady, immovable principle of action. If either of the former holds the sword of justice, there is plainly ground for the greatest of crimes to hope for impunity : but if it be goodness, there can be no possible hope, whilst the reasons of things, or the ends of government, call for -J >« punishment. Thus every one sees how much greater chance of ^^ impunity an ill man has in a partial administration, than in a just and upright one. It is said, that the interest or good of the whole must be the interest of the universal Being, and that he can, have no other. Be it so. This author has proved, that vice is naturally the misery of mankind iu this world. Consequently it was for the good of the whole that it should be so. What shadow of reason, then, is there to assert that this may not be the case hereafter 1 Danger of future punishment (and if there be danger, there is ground of fear) no more supposes malice, than the present feeling of punishment does. The Sermon upon the character of Balaam, and that upon Self- deceit, both relate to one subject. I am persuaded, that a very great part of the wickedness of the world is, one way or other, owing to the self-partiality, self-flattery, and self-deceit, en- deavoured there to be laid open and explained. It is to be S / observed amongst persons of the lowest rank, in proportion to their O I compass of thought, as much as amongst men of education and improvement. It seems, that people are capable of being thus artful with themselves, in proportion as they are capable of being so with others. Those who have taken notice that there is really such a thing, namely, plain falseness and insincerity in men with regard to themselves, will readily see the drift and design of these Discourses : and nothing that I can add will explain the design of them to him, who has not beforehand remarked, at least, some- what of the character. And yet the admonitions they contain may be as much wanted by such a person, as by others ; for it is to be noted, that a man may be entirely possessed by this unfair- ness of mind, without having the least speculative notion what the thing is. The account given of Resentment in the eighth Sermon is in- troductory to the following one upon Forgiveness of Injuries. It -J ^may possibly have appeared to some, at first sight, a strange as- O tzBertion, that injury is the only natural object of settled resent- ment or that men do not in fact resent deliberately anything but under this appearance of injury. But I must desire the reader not to take any assertion alone by itself, Taut to consider the whole of what is said upon it : because this is necessary, not only ^ CharaCt«riBtic8, v. i. p. 39 34 88C author's preface. in Drder to judge of the truth of it, but often, such is the nature of language, to see the very meaning of the assertion. Particularly as to this, injury and injustice is, in the Sermon itself, explained to mean, not only the more gross and shocking instances of wicked- ness, but also contempt, scorn, neglect, any sort of disagreeable behaviour towards a person, which he thinks other than what is due to him. And the general notion of injury or wrong plainly comprehends this, though the words are mostly contined to the higher degrees of it. Forgiveness of injuries is one of the very few moral obligationi which has been disputed. But the proof, that it is really ar obligation, what our nature and condition require, seems ver; obvious, were it only from the consideration, that revenge is duin^ harm merely for harm's sake. And as to the love of our enemies : resentment cannot supersede the obligation to universal benevo- lence, unless they are in the nature of the thing inconsistent, which they plainly are not '. This divine precept, to forgive injuries and love our enemies, though to be met with in Gentile moralists, yet is in a peculiar sense a precept of Christianity ; as our Saviour has insisted more upon it tnan upon any other single virtue. One reason of this doubtless is, that it so peculiarly becomes an imperfect, faulty creature. But it may be observed also, that a virtuous temper of mind, consciousness of innocence, and good meaning towards every- body, and a strong feeling of injustice and injury, may itself, such is the imperfection of our virtue, lead a person to violate this ob- ligation, if he be not upon his guard. And it may well be sup- posed, that this is another reason why it is so much insisted upon by him, who knew what was in man. The chief design of the eleventh Discourse is to state the notion of self-love and disinterestedness, in order to show that benevo- lence is not more unfriendly to self-love, than any other particular aflfection whatever. There is a strange affectation in many people of explaining away all particular affections, and representing the whole of life as nothing but one continued exercise of self-love. Hence arises that surprising confusion and perplexity in the Epicureans * of old, Hobbes, the author of RefiectioTis, Sentences^ et ' P. 467. * One need only look inio Torquatus's account of the Epicurean system, in Cicero's first book, " De Finibus," to see in what a surprising manner this was done by them. Thus the desire of praise, and of being beloved, he explains to be no other than desire of safety : regard to our country, even in the most virtuous character, to be nothing but rejiard to ourselves. The author of " Reflections, &c., Morales," says, " Curiosity proceeds from in- terest or pride ; which pride also would doubtless have been explained to be self-love." — P. 85, ed. 1725. As if there were no such passions in mankind as desire of esteem, or of beiny: beloved, or of knowled;:e. Hobbes'a fcccount of the affections of good-will and pity are instances of the same kind. AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 381 Mcucimes Morales, and this whole set of writers ; the confusion of calling actions interested which are done in contradiction to the most manifest known interest, merely for the gratification of a present passion. Now all this confusion might easily be avoided, Dy stating to ourselves wherein the idea of self-love in general consists, as distinguished from all particular movements towards particular external objects ; the appetites of sense, resentment, compassion, curiosity, ambition, and the rest '. When this is done, if the words selfish and interested cannot be parted with, but must be applied to everything ; yet, to avoid such total confusion of all language, let the distinction be made by epithets : and the first may be called cool or settled selfishness, and the other passionate or sensual selfishnesg. But the most natural way of speaking plainly is, to call the first only, self-love, and the actions proceed- ing from it, interested : and to say of the latter, that they are not love to ourselves, but movements towards somewhat external : honour, power, the harm or good of another : and that the pursuit of these external objects, so far as it proceeds from these move- ments (for it may proceed from self-love^), is no otherwise in- terested, than as every action of every creature must, from the nature of the thing, be ; for no one can act but from a desire, or choice, or preference of his own. Self-love and any particular passion may be joined together ; and from this complication, it becomes impossible in numberless instances to determine precisely, how far an action, perhaps even of one's own, has for its principle general self-love, or some particular passion. But this need create no confusion in the ideas \ / themselves of self-love and particular passions. We distinctly -> ^ discern what one is, and what the other are : though we may be uncertain how far one or the other influences us. And though, from this uncertainty, it cannot but be that there will be different opinions concerning mankind, as more or less governed by in- terest ; and some will ascribe actions to self-love, which others will ascribe to particular passions : yet it is absurd to say that mankind are wholly actuated by either ; since it is manifest that both have their influence. For as, on the one hand, men form a general notion of interest, some placing it in one thing, and some in another, and have a considerable regard to it throughout the course of their life, which is owing to self-love ; so, on the other hand, they are often set on work by the particular passions them- selves, and a considerable part of life is spent in the actual gratification of them, i. e., is employed, not by self-love, but by the passions. "^ -V Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit necessarily pre- "^ f supposes particular passions or appetites ; since the very idea of iatei'est or happiness consists in this, that an appetite or affection ' f. 485. • *W toe note, p. 390. 382 AUTHORS PREFACE. enjoys its objects It is not because we love ourselves that we find delight in such and such objects, but because we have particular affections towards them. Take awav tnese affections, and yoii leave self-love absolutely nothing at all to employ itself about' ; no end or object for it to pursue, excepting only that of avoiding pain. Indeed the Epicureans, who maintained that absence of pain was the highest happiness, might, consistently with them- selves, deny all affection, and, if they had so pleased, every sensual appetite too : but the very idea of interest or happiness other than absence of pain implies particular appetites or passions ; these being necessary to constitute that interest or happiness. The observation, that benevolence is no more disinterested than any of the common particular passions"'', seems in itself worth ' being taken notice of ; but is insisted upon to obviate that scorn, which one sees rising upon the faces of people who are said to know the world, when mention is made of a disinterested, generous, or public-spirited action. The truth of that observation might be made appear in a more formal manner of pruof : for who- ever will consider all the possible respects and relations which any particular affection can have to self-love and private interest, will, I think, see demonstrably, that benevolence is not in any respect more at variance with self-love, than any other particular affection whatever, but that it is in every respect, at least, as friendly to it. If the observation be true, it follows, that self-love and benevo- lence, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed, but only to be distinguished from each other ; in the same way as virtue and any other particular affection, love of arts, suppose, are to be dis- C\ tinguishe-i. Everything is what it is, and not another thing. I The goodnesh v»r badness of actions does not arise from hence, that the epithet, i/nerested or disinterested, may be applied to them, . any more than that any other indifferent epithet, suppose in- j\ ' /, -(quisitive or je.alous, may or may not be applied to them; not from /'"=>'<•/— ^~' their being attended with present or future pleasure or pain; but fiom their b»^ing what they are; namely, what becomes such , creatures as v,e are, what the state of the case requires, or the ^Ju^^jUf^L contrary. Or, in other words, we may judge and determine, that ^^i/' an action is morally good or evil, before we so much as consider, A whether it be interested or disinterested. This consideration no (ji,; more comes in to determine whether an action be virtuous, than to determine whether it be resentful. Self-love in its due degree is as just and morally good, as any affection whatever. Benevo- lence towards particular persons may be to a degree of weakness, and so be blameable : and disinterestedness is so far from bemg in itself commendable, that the utmost possible depravity which we Can in imagination conceive, is that of disinterested cruelty. Keither dees there appear any reason to wish self-iovs were » P. 48«. « P. 189. 3 •nrjiyxj. AUTHORS PREI^aCE. 383 •reaker in the generality of the world than it is. xne influence which it has seems plainly owing to its being constant and habitual, which it cannot but be, and not to the degree or strength of It- Every caprice of the imagination, every curiosity of the understanding, every affection of the heart, is perpetually showing its weakness, by prevailing over it. Men daily, hourly sacrifice the greatest known interest, to fancy, inquisitiveues«, love, or hatred, any vagrant inclination. The thing to be lajaented is, not that men have so great regard to their own good or interest in the present world, for they have not enough ' ; but that they have so little to the good of others. And this seems pla.'nly owing to their being so much engaged in the gratification of particular passions unfriendly to benevolence, and which happen to be most prevalent in them, much more than to self-love. As a proof of this may be observed, that there is no character more void of friendship, gratitude, natural affection, love to their country, common justice, or more equally and uniformly hard-hearted, than the ahandoTied in, what is called, the way of pleasure hard- hearted and totally without feeling in behalf of others ; except when they cannot escape the sight of distress, and so are in- terrupted by it in their pleasures. And yet it is ridiculous to call Buch an abandoned course of pleasure interested, when the person engaged in it knows beforehand, goes on under the feeling and apprehension, that it will be as ruinous to himself, as to those who depend upon him. Upon the whole, if the generality of mankind were to cultivate within themselves the principle of self-love ; if they were to accus- tom themselves often to set down and consider, what was the greatest happiness they were capable of attaining for themselves in this life, and if self-love were so strong and prevalent, as that they would uniformly pursue this their supposed chief temporal good, without being diverted from it by any particular passion ; it would manifestly prevent numberless follies and vices. This was in a great measure the Epicurean system of philosophy. It is indeed by no means the religious or even moral institution of life. Yet, with all the mistakes men would fall into about interest, it would be less mischievous than the extravagances of mere appetite, will, and pleasure : for certainly self-love, though con- fined to the interest of this life, is, of the two, a much better guide than passion 2, which has absolutely no bound nor measure but what is set to it by this self-love, or moral considerations. From the distinction above made between self-love, and the several particular principles or affections in our nature, we may see how good ground there was for that assertion, maintained by the several ancient schools of philosophy against the Epicureans, namely, that virtue is to be pursued as an end, eligible in and fci ' P. 397. 2 P. 405. 384 author's PBBfACK. itself. For, if there be any principles or affections in the ir.in»il of man distinct from self-love, that the things those principles tend towards, or that the objects of those affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible, to be pursued upon its own account, and to be rested in as an end, is implied in the very idea of such prin- ciple or affection'. They indeed asserted much higher things of virtue, and with very good reason; but to say thus much of it, that it is to be pursued for itself, is to say no more of it, than may truly be said of the object of every natural affection whatever. The question, which was a few years ago disputed in France, concerning the love of God, which was there called enthusiasm, as it will everywhere by the generality of the world ; this ques- tion, I say, answers in religion to that old one in morals now men- tioned. And both of them are, I think, fully determined by the same observation, namely, that the very nature of affection, the idea itself, necessarily implies resting in its object as an end. I shall not here add anything further to what I have said in the two Discourses uipon that most important subject, but only this: that if we are constituted such sort of creatures, as from our very nature to feel certain affections or movements of mind, upon the sight or contemplation of the meanest inanimate part of the crea- tion, for the flowers of the field have their beauty ; certainly there must be somewhat due to him himself, who is the Author and Cause of all things ; who is more intimately present to us than anything else can be, and with whom we have a nearer and more constant intercourse, than we can have with any creature : there must be some movements of mind and heart which correspond to his perfections, or of which those perfections are the natural object : and that when we are commanded to love the Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our mind, and with all our soul; somewhat more must be meant than merely that we live in hope of rewards or fear of punishments from him ; somewhat more than this must be intended ; though these regards themselves are most just and reasonable, and absolutely necessary to be often recol- lected in such a world as this. It may be proper just to advertise the reader, that he is not to look for any particular reason for the choice of the greatest part of these Discourses ; their being taken from amongst many others, preached in the same place, through a course of eight years, being in great measure accidental. Neither is he to expect to find any other connection between them, than that uniformity of thought and design, which will always be found in the writings of th« same person, when he writes with simplicity and in earnest. SfANnopB, Sept. 16, 1729. » P. 51i SERMONS. Sermon I. — Upon Human Nature-, * For as tfe have many members in one body, and all members have not the same office ; so we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one cf another." — Rom. xii. 4, 5. The Epistles in tlie New Testament have all of them a particular reference to the condition and usages of tlie Christian world at the time they were written. Therefore as they cannot be thoroughly understood, unless that con- dition and those usages ai-e known and attended to : so further, though they be known, yet if tliey be discontinued or changed ; exhortations, precepts, and illustrations of things, which refer to such circumstances now ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in that manner, and with that force which they were to the primitive Christians. Thus the text now before us, in its first intent and design, relates to the decent management of those extraordinaiy gifts which were then in the church'^, but which are now totally ceased. And even as to the allusion that we are one body in Christ; though what the Apostle here intends is equally true of Christians in all circumstances; and the consideration of it is plamly still an additional motive, over and above moral considerations, to the discharge of the several duties and offices of a Christian : yet it is manifest this allusion must have appeared with much greater force to those ^, who, by the many difficulties they went through ' In his " Preface," Butler says, that " there are two ways in which the subject of morals may be treated," the one analytical, the other synthetical ' the one deductive, the other inductive ; the one proceeding downwards from principles to facts, the other ascending from facts to principles, Butler proceeds almost wholly on the latter of these two plans; and these first three sermons are entirely occupied with an inquiry into the facU of human nature, from which Butler argues out his true theory of a system, at the head of which sits Conscience as supreme. — Ed. > 1 Cor. xii. ^ See Analogy, Part ii. ch. vi. — " The first Christians had higher evidence of the miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity than what we have BOW. They had also a strong presumptive proof of the truth of it , from the influence which it had upo» the lives of the generality if its professors." — Ed. C 886 UPON HUMAN NATURE [SER. i. for tlie sake of their religion, were led \o keep always in view the relation they stood in to tlieir Saviour, who had undergone the same ; to those, who, from the idolatries of all around them, and theh ill-treatment, were taught to consider themselves as not of the world in which they lived, but as a distinct society of tliemselves ; with laws and ends, and principles of life and action, quite contraiy to those which the world professed themselves at that time influenced by. Hence the relation of a Christian was by them considered as nearer than that of affinity and blood ; and they almost literally esteemed themselves as members one of another. It cannot mdeed possibly be denied, that our being God's creatures, and virtue being the natural law we are bom under, and the whole constitution of man being y plainly adapted to it, are prior' obligations to piety and virtue, than the consideration that God sent his Son into the world to save it, and the motives which arise from the peculiar relation of Christians, as members one of anotlier under Christ our head. However, though all tliis be allowed, as it expressly is by the inspired writers, yet it is manifest tliat Christians at the time of the revelation, and immediately after, could not but insist mostly upon con* siderations of this latter kind. These observations show tlie original particular refer- ~2, ence of the text; and the peculiar force with which the y thing intended by the allusion in it, must have been felt by the primitive Christian world. They likewise a.fford a reason for treating it at this time in a more general way. The relation which the several parts or members of the natural body have to each other and to the whole body, is here compared to the relation which each particular person in society has to other particular persons and to the whole society ; and the latter is intended to be illustrated by the former. And if there be a likeness between these two relations, the consequence is obvious : that the latter shows us we were intended to do good to otliers, as the former ' " Prior," anterior, that is, in point of time ; not superior or more im- portant. Had our blessed Lord never taken upon himseif the nature ol man, the obligation to virtue, which arises from the very law and constitu* tion of our morai nature, would have been equally binding upon all men. — Ed. SER. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 387 shows US t/jfit the several members of the natural body were intended to be instruments of good to eacli otlier and to the whole body. But as there is scarce any ground for a comparison between society and the mere material body, this without the mind being a dead unactive thing ; much less can the comparison be carried to any length. And since the apostle speaks of tlie several members as having distinct offices, which implies the mind ; it cannot be thought an unallowable liberty, instead of the body and its members, to substitute the whole nature of man, and all the variety of internal principles which belong to it. And then the comparison will be between the nature of man as respecting self, and tending to private good, his own pre- servation and happiness ; and the nature of man as having respect to society, and tending to promote public good, the happiness of that society. These ends do indeed perfectly coincide ; and to aim at public and private good are so far from being inconsistent, that they mutually promote each other: yet in the following discourse they must be con- sidered as entirely distinct; otherwise the nature of man as tending to one, or as tending to the other, cannot be compared. There can no comparison be made, without considering the things compared as distinct and different. From this review and comparison of the nature of man as respecting self, and as respecting society, it will plainly ^ appear, that there are as real and the same kind of indications in human nature, that we were made for society and to do good to our fellow-creatures ; as that we were intended to take care of our own life and health and private good : and that the same objections lie against one of these assertions, as against the other. For, First. There is a natural pirinciple of benevolence^ in ' Suppose a man of learning to be writing a grave book upon human nature, and to show in several parts of it that he had an insight into the Biibject he was considering; amongst other things, the following one would require to be accounted for ; the appearance of benevolence or good-will in men towards each other in the instances of natural relation, and in others *. * Hobbes of Human Nature, ch. ix. sect. 17. The author against whorr: Butler is here writing resolved all benevolence into selt-iove, and asserted that there is no such principle as benevolence in the nature ot man, but that every act of benevolence springs from self-love, exhibited in the shape of love of power. This immoral theory, so degrading even to tallen human nature, Butler disproves at length. The words of Hobbes are as follows : — • i^ 588 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SER. I. man ; which is in some degi'ee to societij, what sel/-l(n6 is to tlie individual. And if there be in mankind any disposition to friendship ; if there be any such thing as compassion. Cautious of being deceived with outward show, he retires within himself to tee exactly, what that is in the mind of man from whence this appearance proceeds ; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in the mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the exercise of it. Would not every- body think here was a mistake of one word for another 1 that the philosopher was contemplating and accounting for some other Jmmav, actions, some other behaviour of man to mani And could any one be thoroughly satisfied, that what is commonly called benevolence or good-will was really the affection meant, but only by being made to understand that this learned person had a j^eiieral hypothesis, to which the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be reconciled ] That what has this appearance is often nothing but ambition ; that delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with bene- volence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger, of the two : but in reality that passion does no more account for the whole appear- ances of good-will than this appetite does. Is there not often the appearance of one man's wishing that good to another, which he knows himself unable to procure him ; and rejoicing in it, though bestowed by a third person 1 And can love of power any way possibly come in to account for this desire or delight] Is there not often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more persons, preferring one before another, to do good to, in cases where love of power cannot in the least account for the distinction md preference ] For this principle can no otherwise distinguish between >bjects, than as it is a greater instance and exertion of power to do good 4O one rather than to another. Again, suppose good-will in the mind of ninn to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power : men might indeed be restrained by distant and accidental consideration ; but these restraints being removed, they would have a disposition to, and delight in mischief as an exercise and proof of poAver : and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same, principle in the mind, as a disposition to, and delight in charity. Thus cruelty, as distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same in the mind of man as good-will : that one tends to the happiness, the other to the misery of our fellow-creatures, is, it seems, merely an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not the least regard »o. These are the absurdities which even men of capacity run into, when they have occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that image of God which was originally stamped upon it, the traces of which, however faint, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man. If any person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing as good-will in one man towards another ', (for the question is not concerning " There is yet another passion, sometimes called love, but more properly good-will or chanty. There can be no greater argument to a man of his own power, than to find himself able, not only to accomplish his own desires, tout also to assist other men in theirs ; and this is that conception wherein consisteth charity. In which, first, is contained that natural affection cf p«rent8 to their children, which the Greeks call ^rtfyii, as also that affection «aer©with men geek to assist those that adhere unto them."— JBci. BEB. I.] UPON HUMAN NATGRE. 389 for compassion is momentary love ; if there be any such thing as the pi .temal or filial affections ; if there be any affection in hmnan nature, the object and end of which is the good of another ; this is itself benevolence, or the love of another. Be it ever so short, be it in ever so Ijw a degree, or ever so unhappily confined ; it proves the assertion, and points out what we were designed for, as really as though it were in a higher degree and more extensiv«e 1 must, however, remind you that though be- nevolence and self-love are different; though the former tends most directly to public good, and the latter to private : yet they are so perfectly coincident, that the greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend upon our having, benevolence in a due degree; and that self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour towards society'. It may be added, that their mutual coinciding, so that we can scarce promote one without the other, is equally a proof that we were made for both. either tlie degree or extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself :) let it be observed, that whetlier man be thus, or othericise constituted, ichat is the inward frame in this particular, is a mere question of fact or natural history, not proveable immediately by reason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other facts or matters of natural history are : by appealing to the external senses, or inward perceptions, respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognizable by one or the other : by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions ; for a great number of actions in the same kind, in different circumstances, and respecting different objects, will prove to a certainty, what principles they do not, and, to the greatest probability, what principles they do proceed from : and lastly, by the testi- mony of mankind. Now that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men, may be as strongly and plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be proved, supposing there was this affection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert, that resentment in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shown in no other way than those in which it may be shown, that there is such a thing in some degree as real good will in man towards man. It is sufficient that the geeds of it be implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is owned, nnicn left for us to do upon our own heart and temper; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it in a steady, uniform manner. This is our work ; this is virtue and religion. ' Butler means to say, that if (apart from benevolence or self-lovj) the nature of man has some passions and ajfections which lead to public good, )u8t as he has others which lead to his own private good, and if there be self-love corresponding in him to the latter, then there is an h priori pro- bability that he must have another principle, such as benevolence, answering to the former. — Ed. 390 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SEJR. I. Secondly. This will fui^tlier appear, from observing that the several passions and affections, which are distinct' both from benevolence and self love, do in general contribute and lead us to puhlic good as really as to private. It might be thought too minute and particular, and would carry us too gi-eat a length, to distinguish between and compare together the several passions or appetites distinct from benevolence, whose primary use and intention is tlie security and good of society; and the passions distinct from self-love, whose primary intention and design is the security and good of the individual-. It is enough to the ' Everybody makes a distinction between self-love, and the several par- ticular passions, appetites, and affections ; and yet they are often confounded again. That they are totally different, will be seen by any one who will distinguish between the passions and appetites themselves, and endeavouring after the means of their gratification. Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem : these being the occasion both of pleasure and pain, the coolest self-love, as well as the appetites and passions themselves, may put us upon making use of the proper methods of obtaining that pleasure, and avoiding that pain ; but the feelings themselves, the pain of hunger and shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more self-love than they are any- thing in the world. Though a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain of hunger as he would that of the gout : and it is plainly sup- posable there may be creatures with self-love in them to the highest degree, who may be quite insensible and indifferent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those, upon whom their happiness does not in some further respects depend. And as self-love and the several particular passions and appetites are in themselves totally different; so, that some actions proceed from one, and some from the other, will be manifest to any who will observe the two following very supposable cases. One man rushes upon certain ruin for the gratification of a present desire : nobody will call the principle of this action self-love. Suppose another man to go through Sonne laborious work upon promise of a great reward, without any distinct knowledge what the reward will be : this course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion. The former of these actions is plainly to be im- puted to some particular passion or affection, the latter as plainly to the general affection or principle of self-love. That there are some particular pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot determine how far they are owing to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this, that the two principles are frequently mixed together, and run up into each other. This distinction is further explained in the eleventh sermon. ' If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a particular instance, the appetite and paasion now mentioned may serve for one. Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite ; because the end for which it was given us is the preservation of the individual. Desire of esteem is a public passion ; because the end tor which it was given us is to regulate our behaviour towards society. The respect which this has to private good is as remote as the respect that has to public good-* and the appetite ifi no moie 8ER. 1.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 391 present argument, that desire of esteem from others, con- tempt and esteem of them, love of society as distinct from allection to the good of it, indignation against successful vice, that tliese are public afiections or passions ; have an immediate respect to others, naturally lead us to regulate our behaviour in such a manner as will be of service to our fellow-creatures. If any or all of these may be con- sidered likewise as private affections, as tending to private good ; this does not hinder them from being public afifec- tions too, or destroy the good influence of them upon society, and their tendency to public good. It may be added, that as persons without any conviction from reason of the desirableness of life, would yet of course presei-A^e it merely from the appetite of hunger ; so by acting merely from regai'd (suppose) to reputation, without any consider- ation of the good of others, men often contribute to public good. In both these instances they are plainly instru- ments in the hands of another, in the hands of Providence, to cany on ends, the presei^ation of the individual and good of society, which they themselves have not in their view or intention. The sum is, men have various appetitesj passions, and particular affections, quite distinct both from self-love and from benevolence : all of these have a ten- dency to promote both public and private good, and may be considered as respecting others and ourselves equally and in common : but some of them seem most imme- diately to respect others, or tend to public good ; others of them most immediately to respect self, or tend to private good : as the former are not benevolence, so the latter are not self-love : neither sort are instances of our love either to ourselves or others ; but only instances of our Maker's care and love both of the individual and the species, and proofs that he intended we should be instmraents of good to each other, as well as that we should be so to ourselves. Thkdly^ There is a principle of reflection in men, by self-love, than the passion is benevolence. The object and end of the former is merely food ; the object and end of the latter is merely esteem : but the latter can no more be gratified, without contributing to the good of society ; than the former can be gratified, without contributing to the preservation cf the individual. ' It will be useful to insert here a note by Dr. Whewell, the learned Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. ** With regard to Butler's doctrines, I suppose it is not questioned that 392 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SER. I. >»hich they distinguish between, approve and disapprove their own actions. We are plainly constituted such sort of creatures as to reflect upon oui' OAvn nature. The mind can take a view of what passes within itself, its propen sions, aversions, passions, affections, as respecting such <)bjects, and in such degi'ees ; and of the several actions consequent thereupon. In tliis survey it approves of one, disapproves of another, and towai'ds a third is affected in neither of* these ways, but is quite indifferent. This prin- ciple in man, by which he approves or disapproves his heart, temper, and actions, is conscience ; for this is the strict sense of the word, though sometimes it is used so as to take in more. And that this faculty tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each other, and leads them to do good, is too manifest to need being insisted upon. Thus a parent has the affection of love to his children : this leads him to take care of, to educate, to make due provision for them ; the natural affection leads to this : but the reflection that it is his proper business, what belongs to him, that it is right and commendable so to do ; this added to the affection becomes a much more settled principle, and carries him on through more labour and difficulties for the sake of his children, than he would undergo from that affection alone, if he thought it, and the course of action it led to, eitlier indifferent or criminal. This indeed is impossible, to do that which is good and not to approve of it ; for which reason they are frequently not considered as they are on several points directly opposed to those of Piiley The points of opposition between them are obvious enough : Paley declares hia intention to omit the * usual declamation ' on the dignity and capacity of our nature, on the superiority of the soul to the body, of the rational to the animal part of our constitution, upon the worthiness, refinement, and de- licacy, of some satisfactions, or the meanness, grossness, and sensuality of others. Butler, on the contrary, teaches that there is a difference of kind among our principles of action, which is quite distinct from their difference of strength ; that reason was intended to control animal appetite, and that the law of man's nature is violated when the contrary takes place. Paley teaches us to judge of the merit of actions by the advantages to which they lead. Butler teaches that good desert and ill desert are something else than mere tendencies to the advantage and disadvantage of society. Paley makes virtue depend on the consequences of our actions ; Butler makes it depend upon the due operation of our moral constitution. Paley is tU moralist of utility; Butltr of conscience." — Preface to Butler's Thnt Sei-m.ons, p. iv. {Ed.) «ER I.J UPON HUMAN NATURB. 803 distinct, though they really are : for men often approve of the actions of others, which they will not imitate, and like- wise do that which they approve not. It cannot possibly be denied, that there is this principle of reflection or conscience in human nature. Suppose a man to relieve an innocent person in great distress ; suppose the same man afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do the gi'eatest mischief to a person who had given no just cause of offence; to aggravate the injury, add the circumstances of former friendship, and obligation from the injured person ; let the man who is supposed to have done these two different actions, coolly reflect upon them afterwards, without regard to their consequences to himself: to assert that any common man would be affected in the same way towards these different actions, that he would make no distinction between them, but approve or disapprove them equally, is too glaring a falsity to need being confuted. There is therefore this principle of reflection or conscience in man- kind. It is needless to compare the respect it has to private good, with the respect it has to public; since it plainly tends as much to the latter as to the former, and is commonly thought to tend chiefly to the latter. This faculty is now mentioned merely as another part in the inward frame of man, pointing out to us in some degree what we are intended for, and as what will naturally and of course have some influence. The particular place assigned to it by nature, what authority it has, and how great influence it ought to have, shall be hereafter considered. From this comparison of benevolence and self-love, of our public and private affections, of the courses of life thoy lead to. and of the principle of reflection or conscience as respecting each of them, it is as manifest, that we were mad^ for society, and to promote the happiness of it ; as that we were intended to take care of our own life, and health, and private good. And from this whole review must be given a different draught of human nature from what we are often presented witli. Mankind are by nature so closely united, there is such a coiTespondence between the inward sensations of one man and those of anotlier, that disgrace is as mu !h avoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of esteem and lovo as much desired as any external goods : and in man) 3&4 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SER J particular cases, persons are carried on to do gocd to others, as the end tlieir affection tends to and rests in ; and manifest that they find real satisfaction and cnjoj-nient ni this course of behaviour. There is such a natural principle of attraction in man towards man, that having trod the same tract of land, having breathed in the same climate, barely having been in the same artificial district or division, becomes tlie occasion of contracting acquaintances and familiarities many years after : for anything may sei-ve the pui-pose. Thus relations merely nominal are sought and mvented. not by governors, but by the lowest of the people; ^'hich are found sufficient to hold mankind together in little fraternities and copartnerships : weak ties indeed, and what may afford fund enough for ridicule, if they are absurdly considered as the real principles of that union : but they are in truth merely the occasions, as anything may be of anything, upon which our nature carries us on according to its own previous bent and bias ; which occa- sions therefore would be nothing at all, were there not this prior disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much one body', that in a peculiar manner they feel for each other, shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour, pros- perity, distress ; one or another, or all of these, from the social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the occasion of natural relation, acquaintance, protection, dependence ; each of these being distinct cements of society. And therefore to have no restraint from, no regard to others in our behaviour, is the speculative absurdity of considering ourselves as single and inde- pendent, as having nothing in our nature which has respect to our fellow-creatures, reduced to action and practice. And this is the same absurdity, as to suppose a hand, or any part, to have no natural respect to any other, or to tlie whole body But allowing all this, it may be asked, " Has not man dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do evil to others, as well as to do good? Whence come the many miseries else, which men are the authors and instru- ' Hence the expression of the ancient comedian, " Homo sum : hnmani nihil a me alienura puto." Christianity comes in to confirm this sociiU principle of human nature, and tells us that we are *•' one body in Christ.* !:EB. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 39S nients of to each other?" These questions, so far as tliey relate to the foregoing discourse, may be answered by ask- ing, Has not man also dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do evil to himself as well as good? Whence come the many miseries else, sickness, pain, and death, which men are instruments and authors of to them- selves ? It may be thought more easy to answer one of these questions than tlie other, but the answer to both is reall}- the same ; tliat mankind have ungovemed passions which they will gratify at any rate, as well to the injuiy of others, as in contradiction to known private interest : but that as there is no such thing as self-hatred, so neitlier is there any such thing as ill-will in one man towards another, emula- tion and resentment being away ; whereas there is plainly benevolence or good-will : there is no such thing as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, ingratitude ; but only eager desires after such and such external goods : which, according to a very ancient observation, the most abandoned would choose to obtain by innocent means, if they were as easy, and as effectual to their end : that even emulation and resentment, by any one who will consider what these passions really are in nature \ will be found nothing to the pui-pose of tills objection : and that the principles and passions in the mind of man, which are distinct both from self-love and benevolence, primarily and most directly lead to right behaviour with regai'd to others as well as himself, and only secondarily and accidentally to what is evil. Thus, though men, to avoid the shame of one villany, are sometimes guilty of a greater, yet it is easy to see, that the original tendency of shame is to prevent the doing of ' Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with, or superiority over others, with whom we compare ourselves. There does not appear to be any other grief in the natural passion, but only that want which is implied in desire. However, this may be so strong as to be the occasion of great grief. To desire the attainment of this equality or superiority by the pariicular means of others being brought down to our own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of envy. From whence it is easy to see, that the real end, which the natural passion emulation, and which the un« lawful one envy aims at, is exactly the same ; namely, that equality or su. pcriority: and consequently, that to do mischief is not the end of envy, but merely the means it makes use of to attain its end. As to resentment, see the eighth sermon. 39 C UPON HUMAN NATUKE. [SER. I shameful actions ; and its leading men to conceal sucli actions when done, is only in consequence of theii' being done; i. e., of the passion's not having answered its first end. If it be said, that there ai'e persons in tlie world, who are in great measure without the natural affections towards their fellow-creatm-es : there are likewise instances of per- sons witliout the common natural affections to themselves : but the nature of man is not to be judged of by either of these, but by what appears in the common world, in the bulk of mankind. I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if to con- firm tlie truth of this account of human nature, and make out the justness of the foregoing comparison, it should be added, that, from what appeal's, men in fact as much and as often contradict that pan of their nature which respects self, and which leads them to their oivn piivate good and happiness ; as they contradict that pai't of it which respects society, and tends to public good : that there are as few persons who attain the greatest satisfaction and enjoyment which they might attain in the present world, as who do the greatest good to others which they might do ; nay, that there ai'e as few who can be said really and in earnest to aim at one, as at the other. Take a sun^ey of mankind : the world in general, the good and bad, almost without exception, equally are agi'eed, that were religion out of the case, the happiness of the present life would consist in a manner wholly in riches, honours, sensual gi-atifi cations ; insomuch that one scarce hears a reflection made upon pru- dence, life, conduct, but upon this supposition. Yet, on the contrary, that persons in the greatest affluence of fortune are no happier than such as have only a competency ; that the cares and disappointments of ambition for the most part far exceed the satisfactions of it ; as also the miserable intei-vals of intemperance and excess, and the many un- timely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of life : these things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one acknowledged ; but are thought no objections against, though they expressly contradict, this universal principle, that the happiness of the present life consists in one or other of them. Whence is all this absurdity and contra- diciion? Is not the middle way obvious ? Can anythir^i 6ER. I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE 397 he more manifest, than that the happiness of hfe consists in these possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree ; that to pui'sue them b«yond this degree is always attended with more inconvenience than advantage to a man's self, and often with extreme misery and unhappiness. Whence then, I say, is all this ahsurdity and contradiction ? Is it really the result of consideration in mankind, how they may become most easy to themselves, most free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness attainable in this world ? Or is it not manifestly owing either to this, that they have not cool and reasonable concern enough for themselves to con aider wherein their chief happiness in the present life con sists ; or else, if they do consider it, that they will not act conformably to what is the result of that consideration : i. e., reasonable concern for themselves, or cool self-love is prevailed over by passion and appetite. So that from what appears, there is no groimd to assert that those principles in the nature of man, which most directly lead to promote the good of our fellow-creatures, are more generally, or in a gi'eater degree violated, than those, which most directly lead us to promote our own private good and happiness. 1'he sum of the whole is plainly this. The nature of man considered in his single capacity, and with respect only to the present world, is adapted and leads him to attain the greatest happiness he can for himself in the present world. The natm-e of man, considered m his public or social capacity, leads him to a right behaviour in society to that course of life which we call virtue. Mer. follow or obey their nature in both these capacities ana respects to a certain degree, but not entirely ; their actions do not come up to the whole of what their nature leads them to in either of these capacities or respects ; and they often violate their nature in both, i. e., as they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow-creatures, to which their nature leads tliem ; and are injurious, to which their nature is abhoiTent ; so there is a manifest negligence in men of their real happiness or interest in the present world, when that interest is inconsistent w^th a present gi-atihcation ; for the sake of which they negligently, nay, even knowingly, are the authors and instruments of their own miser}' and ruin. Thas they are as often unjust to themselves as to others, and for the most part are equally BO to both by the same actions. 898 JPON HITMAN NATURE [sEE II Sermon II., III. — Upon Human Nature. • For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto them- selves." — Rom. ii. 14. As speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof, so likewise moral obligations may be shown by different methods. If the real nature of any creature leads him and is adapted to such and such purposes only, or more than to any other ; this is a reason to believe the Author of that nature intended it for those purposes K Thus there is no doubt the eye was intended for us to see with. And the more complex any constitution is, and the greater variety of pai'ts there are which thus tend to some one end, the stronger is the proof that such end was designed. How- ever, when the inward frame of man is considered as any guide in morals, the utmost caution must be used that none make peculiarities in their own temper, or anything which is the effect of pai'ticular customs, though observable in several, the standard of what is common to tlie species; and above all, that the highest principle be not forgot or excluded, that to which belongs the adjustment and correc- tion of all other inward movements and affections : which principle will of course have some influence, but which being in natm-e supreme, as shall now be shown, ought to preside over and govern all the rest. The difficulty of rightly observing the two former cautions ; the appearance tliere is of some small diversity amongst mankind with respect to this faculty, with respect to their natural sense of moral good and evil; and tiie attention necessary to survey with any exactness what passes witliin, have occa- sioned that it is not so much agi^eed what is the standai'd of the internal nature of man, as of his external form. Neither is this last exactly settled. Yet we understand one another when we speak of the shape of a human body : so likewise we do when we speak of the heart and inward ' This is what is termed arguing from final causes. It is a favourite ar- piment with Aristotle as well as with Butler. By the " end " or " final cause " of anything, we mean " that which it can accomplish, either alone, or better than anything beside itself." See Preface, p. 374. " It will aa fully appear that this our nature {{. e., constitution) is adapted to virtue, as, from the idea of a watch, it appears that its nature {i. e., constitution oi system) is adapted to measure time." — £ ; i. e., they were a people of virtue and piety, so far as not to have drawn down, by their iniquity, that crn-se which he was soliciting leave to pronounce upon them. So that the state of Ba- laam's mind was this : he wanted to do what he knew to be very wicked, and contrary to the express command of God ; he had inward checks and restraints, which he could not entirely get over ; he therefore casts about for ways to reconcile this wickedness with his duty. How great a paradox soever this may appear, as it is indeed a contradic- tion in terms, it is the very account which the Scripture gives us of him. But there is a more surprising piece of iniquity yet behind. Not daring in his religious character, as a pro- phet, to assist the king of Moab, he considers whether there might not be found some other means of assisting him against that very people, whom he himself by the fear > Chap. xxiiL 21. BER. Vn.] OF BALAAM. 447 of God was restrained from cursing in words. One would not think it possible, that the wealmess, even of religious self-deceit in its utmost excess, could have so poor a dis- tinction, so fond an evasion, to serve itself of. But so it was : and he could think of no other method, than to betray the children of Israel to provoke His wrath, who was their only strength and defence. The temptation which he pitched upon, was that concerning which Solomon after- ward observed, that it had cast doxim many wounded ; yea, many strong men had been slain by it : and of which he him- self was a sad example, when his wives turned away his heart after other gods. This succeeded: the people sin against God; and thus the prophet's counsel brought on that destruction, which he could by no means be prevailed upon to assist with the religious ceremony of execration, which the king of Moab thought would itself have effected it Their crime and punishment are related in Deuteronomy ', and Numbers ^. And from the relation repeated in Nimi- bers 3, it appears, that Balaam was the contriver of the whole matter. It is also ascribed to him in the Revela tion *, where he is said to have taught Balak to cast a stum- bling-block before the children of Israel. This was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man who desired to die the death of the righteous, and that his last end might be like his : and this was the state of his mind, when he pronounced these words. So that the object we have now before us is the most astonishing in the world : a very wicked man, under a deep sense of God and rehgion, persisting still in his wickedness, and preferring the wages of unrighteousness, even when he had before him a lively view of death, and that approaching period of his days, which should deprive him of all those advantages for which he was prostituting himself; and likewise a prospect, whether certain or uncertain, of a future state of retribution : all this joined with an expUcit ardent wish, that, when he was to leave this world, he might be in the condition of a righteous man.^ Good God, what inconsistency, what perplexity is here! With what different views of things, with what contradictory principles of action, must such a mind be torn and distracted ! It was not unthinking cai-elessness, by which he ran on headlong > Ch. iv. 2 Ch. XXV. ' Ch. xxxi. * CL U. 448 UPON THE CTTARACTEB [sER. VII. in vice and folly, without ever making a stand to ask him self what he was doing: no; he acted upon the cool motives of interest and advantage. Neither was he totally hard and callous to impressions of religion, what we call abandoned ; for he absolutely denied to curse Israel. When reason assumes her place, when convinced of his duty, when he owns and feels, and is actually under the influence of the divine authority ; whilst he is carrying on his views to tlie grave, the end of all temporal gi-eatness ; ui der this sense of things, with the better character and more desirable state present — full before him — in his thoughts, in his wishes, voluntarily to choose the worse — what fatality is here! Or how otherwise can such a character be explained? And yet strange as it may appear, it is not altogetlier an uncommon one : nay, with some small alterations, and put a little lower, it is applicable to a very considerable part of the world. For if the reasonable choice be seen and acknowledged, and yet men make the unreasonable one, is not this the same contradiction , that \ery inconsistency, which appeared so unaccountable ? To give some little opening to such characters and behaviom', it is to be observed, in general, that there is no account to be given in the way of reason, of men's so strong attachments to the present world : our hopes and fears and pursuits are in degrees beyond all proportion to tlie known value of the things they respect. This may b^ said without taking into consideration religion and a future state ; and when these are considered, the disproportion is infinitely heightened. Now when men go against their reason, and contradict a more important interest at a dis- tance, for one nearer, though of less consideration ; if this be the whole of the case, all that can be said is, that strong passions, some kind of brute force witliin, prevails over the principle of rationality. However, if this be with a clear, full, and distinct view of the tmth of things, then it is doing the utmost violence to themselves, acting in the most palpable contradiction to their very nature. But if there be any such thing in mankind as putting half deceits upon themselves; which tliere plainly is, either by avoiding reflection, or (if they do reflect) by religious equivocation, subterfuges, and palliating matters to themselves ; by theso means conscience may be laid asleep, and they may go aa SER. VII.] OF BAIAAM. 449 in a course of wickedness with less disturbance All the various tunis, doubles, and intricacies in a dishonest heai-t, cannot be unfolded or laid open ; but that there is some- what of that kind is manifest, be it to be called self-deceit, or by any other name. Balaam had before his eyes the axithority of God, absolutely forbidding him what he, for the sake of a reward, had the strongest inclination to : he was likewise in a state of mind sober enough to consider death and his last end : by these considerations he was restrained, first from going to the king of Moab ; and after he did go, from cursing Israel. But notwithstanding this, there was great wickedness in his heart. He could not forego the rewards of unrighteousness : he tlierefore first seeks for indulgences ; and when these could not be obtained, he sins against the whole meaning, end, and design of the prohibition, which no consideration in the world could prevail with him to go against the letter of. And surely tliat impious counsel he gave to Balak against the children of Israel, was, considered in itself, a greater piece of wickedness, than if he had cursed them in words. If it be inquired what his situation, his hopes, and fears were, in respect to this his wish ; the answer must be, that consciousness of the wickedness of his heart must neces- sarily have destroyed all settled hopes of dying the death of the righteous : he could have no calm satisfaction in this view of his last end : yet, on the otlier hand, it is possible that those partial regards to his duty, now mentioned, might keep him from perfect despair. Upon the whole, it is manifest, that Balaam had the most just and true notions of God and religion; as appears, partly from the original story itself, and more plainly from the passage in Micah; where he explains religion to consist in real virtue and real piety, expressly distinguished from superstition, and in terms which most strongly exclude dishonesty and falseness of heart. Yet you see his beha- viour : he seeks indulgences for plain wickedness ; which not being able to obtain, he glosses over the same wicked ness, dresses it up in a new foi-m, in order to make it pass off more easily with himself. That is, he deliberately con- trives to deceive and impose upon himself, m a matter which he loiew to be of the utmost importance. To bring these observauons home to ourselves : it is too 450 UPON THE CHAKACTEB [SER. VII eTident, that many persons allow themselves in very unjustifiable coiKses, who yet make great pretences to religion ; not to deceive the w«)rld, none can be so weak as to think this will pass in our age ; but from principles, hopes, and fears, respecting God and a future stf te ; and p-o on thus with a sort of tranquillity and quiet of mind. This cannot be upon a thorough consideration, and full resolution, that the pleasures and advantages they propose are to be pursued at all hazards, against reason, against the law of God, and though everlasting destruction is to be the consequence. This would be doing too gi'eat violence upon tliemselves. No, they are for making a composition with the Almighty. These of his commands they will obey : but as to others — why they will make all the atone- ments in their power; the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute man, each in a way which shall not contradict his respective pursuit. Indulgences before, which was Balaam's first attempt, though he was not so successful in it as to deceive himself, or atonements aftenvards, ai^e all the same. And here perhaps come in faint hopes that they may, and half-resolves that they will, one time or other, make a change. Besides these, there are also persons, who, from a more just way of considering things, see the infinite absm-dity of this, of substituting sacrifice instead of obedience ^ ; there ai^e persons far enough from superstition, and not without some real sense of God and religion upon their minds; who yet are guilty of most unjustifiable practices, and go on with great coolness and command over themselves. The same dishonesty and unsoundness of heart discovers itself in these another way. In all common ordmary cases we see intuitively at first view what is our duty, what is the honest part. This is the ground of the observation, that the first thought is often the best. In these cases doubt and deliberation is itself dishonesty ; as it was in Balaam upon the second message. That which is called consider- ing what is our duty in a particular case, is vei7 often nothing but endeavouring to explain it away. Thus those com-ses, which, if men would fairly attend to the dictates ' With reference to this point, see Analogy, Part i. ch. !., wnere thtf relative importance of moral duties and positive duties is fully discussed, and the words, " I will have mercy and not sacrifice," are explained. — JUtl* BER. Vn.] OF BALAAM. 451 of their own consciences, they would see to bo corruption, excess, oppression, uncharitableness ; these are refined upon — things were so and so circumstantiated — gi-eat difficulties are raised about fixing bounds and degrees ; and tlius every moral obligation whatever may be evaded. Here is scope, 1 say, for an unfair mind to explain away eveiy moral obligation to itself. Whether men reflect again upon this internal management and artifice, and how explicit they are with themse-ves, is another question. There are many operations of the mind, many things pass within, which we never reflect upon again ; which a bystander, from having frequent opportunities of obsendng us and our conduct, may make shrewd guesses at. That great numbers are in this way of deceiving them- selves is certain. There is scai'ce a man in the world, who has entirely got over all regards, hopes, and fears, concern- ing God and a future state ; and these apprehensions in the generality, bad as we are, prevail in considerable degrees : yet men will and can be wicked, with calmness and thought ; we see they are. There must therefore be some method of making it sit a little easy upon their minds ; which, in the superstitious, is those indulgences and atonements before mentioned, and this self-deceit of another kind in persons of another character. And both these proceed from a certain unfairness of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty ; the direct contraiy to that simplicity ^ which our Saviour recommends, under the notion of becoming little children, as a necessary qualification for our entering into the kingdom of heaven. But to conclude : How much soever men differ in the course of life they prefer, and in their ways of palliating and excusing their vices to themselves ; yet all agree in the one thing, desiring to die the death of the righteous. This is surely remarkable. The obsei^ation may be extended furtlier, and put thus : Even witliout detemiining what that is which we call guilt or innocence, there is no man but would choose, after having had the pleasure or advantage of a vicious action, to be free of the guilt of it, to be in the state of an innocent man. This shows at least the disturbance ' It is to the same child-Iiko simplicity that our Blessed Lord alludee when he says, " The ight of the body is the eye : if therefore thine eye be »ingle, thy whole body shall be full of light." — Matt. vi. 22. {Ed) G (i a 452 UPON RBSENTMEKT. [SER. VIH. and implicit dissatisfaction in vice. If we inquire into the grounds of it, we shall find it proceeds partly from an im mediate sense of having done evil and partly from an ap- prehension, that this inward sense shall one time or another be seconded by a higher judgment, upon which oin: whole being depends. Now to suspend and drown this sense, and these apprehensions, be it by the hurry of business or of pleasure, or by superstition, or moral equivocations, tliis is in a manner one and the same, and makes no alteration at all in the nature of our case. Things and actions are what they are, and the consequences of them will be what they will be : why then should we desire to be deceived ? As we are reasonable creatures, and have any regard to our selves, we ought to lay these things plainly and honestly before our mind, and upon this, act as you please, as you think most fit ; make that choice, and prefer that course of life, which you can justify to yourselves, and which sits more easy upon your own mind. It will immediately ap pear, that vice cannot be the happiness, but must upon the whole be the miseiy, of such a creature as man ; a moral, an accountable agent. Superstitious observances, self- deceit, though of a more refined sort, will not in reality at all mend matters with us. And the result of the whole can be nothing else, but that with simplicity and fairness we keep innocency, and take heed unto the thing that is right; for this alone shall bring a man peace at the last. Sermon VIII. — Upon Resentment. " Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy : but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you." — Matt. v. 43, 44. Since perfect goodness in the Deity is the principle from whence the universe was brought into being, and by which it is preserved ; and since general benevolence is the great law of the whole moral creation ; it is a question which im- mediately occurs, Why had man implanted in him a principle ^ which appears the direct contrary to benevolence? Now the foot upon which inquiries of this kind should be treated is this . to take human nature as it is', and the circumstances in ' Concerning the eminently practical character of Butler's philosophy, ftnd his great distaste for curious theories, see note above, Sermon vj. — ^4* 8ER. Vni.] UPON RESENTMENT 453 which it is placed as they are ; and then consider the cor- respondence between that nature and those circumstances, or what course of action and behaviour, respecting those circumstances, any particular affection or passion leads us to. This I mention to distinguish the matter now before us from disquisitions of quite another kind ; namely, Why we are not made more perfect creatures, or placed in better cir- cumstances ? these being questions which we have not, that I know of, anything at all to do with. God Almighty un- doubtedly foresaw the disorders, both natural and moral, which would happen in this state of things. If upon this we set ourselves to seai'ch and examine why he did not prevent them ; we shall, I am afraid, be in danger of run- ning into somewhat worse than impertinent curiosity. But upon this to examine how far the nature which he hath given us hath a respect to those circumstances, such as they are ; how far it leads us to act a proper part in them ; plainly belongs to us : and such inquiries are in many ways of excellent use. Thus the thing to be considered is, not, Why we were not made of such a nature, and jjlaced in such circumstances, as to have no need of so harsh and turbulent a passion as resentment : but, taking our nature and condition as being what they are. Why, or for what end such a passion was given us: and this chiefly in order to show what are the abuses of it. The persons who laid do\\Ti for a rule, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy, made short work with this matter. They did not, it seems, perceive anything to be disapproved in hatred, more than in good-will : and, accord ing to their system of morals, our enemy was the proper natm-al object of one of these passions, as om* neighbour was of the other of them. This was all they had to say, and all they thought need ful to be said, upon the subject. But this cannot be satis- factory; because hatred, malice, and revenge, are directly contrary to the religion we profess, and to the nature and reason of the thing itself. Therefore, since no passion God hath endued us with can be in itself evil; and yet since men frequently indulge a passion in such ways and degrees that at length it becomes quite another thing from what it was originally in our nature; and those vices of malice and revenge in pailicular take their occasion from 4:54 UrON BF.8ENTMENT. [SER. VIIL the natural passion of resentment: it will be needful tc trace this up to its original, that we may see ivhat it is in itself, as placed in our nature by its Author; from which it will plainly appear, for what ends it ivas placed thee. And when we know what the passion is in itself, and the ends of it, we shall easily see, what are the abuses of it, in which malice and revenge consist ; and which are so strongly forbidden in tlie text, by the direct contrary being commanded. Kesentment is of two kinds : hasty and sudden, or settled and deliberate^. The former is called anger, and often pas- sion; which, though a general word, is frequently appro- priated and confined to the particular feeling, sudden anger, as distinct from deliberate resentment, malice, and revenge. In all tliese words is usually implied somewhat vicious; somewhat mireasonable as to the occasion of the passion, or immoderate as to the degree or duration of it. But that the natm^al passion itself is indifferent, St. Paul has asserted in that precept, Be ye angry, and sin not ~ ; which though it is by no means to be imderstood as an encouragement to in- dulge ourselves in anger, tlie sense being certainly this, Though ye be angry, sin not; yet here is evidently a distinc- tion made between anger and sin; between tlie natural passion, and sinful anger. Sudden anger, upon certain occasions, is mere instinct : as merely so, as the disposition to close our eyes upon the apprehension of somewhat falling into them ; and no more necessarily imijlies any degree of reason. I say, necessarily; for to be sure hasty, as well as deliberate, anger may be oc- casioned by injury or contempt; in which cases reason suggests to our tlioughts that injur}^ and contempt, which is tlie occasion of the passion : but I am speaking of the ' " One point in Butler's account of Resentment .... lias been admired as happy and novel; I mean the distinction between sudden anger and settled resentment. The distinction is of this kind ; the former does not imply that we have wrong inflicted on us, the latter does. The formei' flashes up before we have time to reflect, and resists all violence and harm ; the latter glows with a permanent heat against injury and injustice. The former is an instinct, implanted for preservation ; the latter is a moral senti- ment, given for the repression of injustice. The former, we may add, belongs to animals, the latt'^r is peculiar to man. It is not cften that a moralist can fasten upon a distinction, so new and yet ao true."- - Wheiteli I Pr^ace. {Ea.) '^ Ephes. iv. 26. 6ER. Vlll.] UPON RKSENTMENT. 455 former only so far as it is to be distinguished from the latter. The only way in which our reason and understand- ing can raise anger, is by representing to our mind injus- tice or injui-y of some kind or other. Now momentai-y anger is frequently raised, not only without any real, but without any apparent reason ; that is, w^ithout any appear- ance of injury, as distinct from hurt or pain. It cannot, 1 suppose, be thought, that this passion in infants; in the lower species of animals; and, which is often seen, in men towards them; it cannot, I say, be imagined, that these in- stances of this passion are the effect of reason : no, they are occasioned by mere sensation and feeling. It is oppo- sition, sudden hurt, violence, which naturally excites the passion ; and the real demerit or fault of him who offers that violence, or is the cause of that opposition or hurt, does not, in many cases, so much as come into thought. The reason and end, for which man was made thus liable to this passion, is, that he might be better qualified to prevent, and likewise (or perhaps chiefly) to resist and defeat, sudden force, violence, and opposition, considered merely as such, and without regard to the fault or demerit of him who is the author of them. Yet, since violence may be considered in this other and further view, as im})ly ing fault; and since injuiy, as distinct from harm, may raise sudden anger ; sudden anger may likewise accidentally sei've to prevent, or remedy, such fault or injury. But, considered as distinct from settled anger, it stands in our nature for self-defence, and not for the administration of justice There are plainly cases, and in the micultivated parts of the world, and, where regular governments are not formed, they frequently happen, in which there is no time for consideration, and yet to be passive is certain destri:^^- tion ; in which sudden resistance is the only security. But from this, deliberate aur/er or resentment is essentially distinguished, as the latter is not natm-ally excited by, or intended to prevent, mere harm without appearance oi wi'ong or injustice. Now, in order to see, as exactly as we can, what is the natural object and occasion of such resent- ment ; let us reflect upon the manner in which w^e are touched with reading, suppose, a feigned story of baseness and villany, properly worked up to move our passions. This immediately raises indignation, somewhat oi a desire 456 UPON EESENTMENT. [SER. Till that it should be punished. And though the designed injury be prevented, yet that it was designed is sufficient to raise this inward feehng. Suppose the stoiy true, tliis mw^ard feehng would be as natural and as just : and one may venture to affirm, that there is scarce a man in tlie world, but would have it upon some occasions. It seems in us plainly connected with a sense of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil. Suppose further, we knew both the person who did and who suffered the injuiy : neither would this make any alteration, only that it would probably affect ns more. The indignation raised by cruelty and injustice, and the desire of having it punished, which persons un- concerned would feel, is by no means malice. No, it is resentment against vice and wickedness : it is one of the common bonds, by which society is held together ; a fellow feeling, which each individual has in behalf of the whole species, as well as of himself. And it does not appear that this, generally speaking, is at all too high amongst mankind. Suppose now tlie injury I have been speaking of to be done against ourselves ; or those whom we consider as ourselves. It is plain, the way in which we should be affected would be exactly the same in kind : but it would certainly be in a higher degree, and less transient ; because a sense of our own happiness and miseiy is most intimately and always present to us ; and from the veiy constitution of our nature, we cannot but have a gi'eater sensibility to, and be more deeply interested in, what conceiTis ourselves. And this seems to be the whole of this passion, which is, properly speaking, natural to mankind : namely, a resent- ment against injury and wickedness in general ; and in a higher degree when towai'ds ourselves, in proportion to the greater regEU'd which men naturally have for tliemselves, than for others. From hence it appears, that it is not natural, but moral evil ; it is not suffering, but injuiy, which raises that anger or resentment, which is of any con- tinuance. The natural object of it is not one, who appears to the suffering person to have been only the innocent occasion of his pain or loss ; but one, who has been in a moral sense injurious either to ourselves or others. This is abundantly confinned by observing what it is which heightens or lessens resentment; namely, the same which aggravates or lessens the fault: fiiendsliip, and former BEE. Vlll.l UPON RESENTMENT. 457 obligations, on one hand; or inadvertency, strong tempt- ations, and mistake on the other. All this is so much anderstood by mankind, how little soever it be reflected upon, that a person would be reckoned quite distracted, who should coolly resent a hami, which had not to himself the appearance of injuiy or wrong. Men do indeed resent what is occasioned through carelessness : but then they expect obser\-ance as tlieir due, and so that cai'elessness is considered as faulty. It is likewise time, that they resent more strongly an injuiy done, tlian one which, tliough designed, was prevented, in cases where the guilt is perhaps the same : the reason, however, is, not that bare pain or loss raises resentment, but, that it gives a new, and, as I may speak, additional sense of the injuiy or injustice. According to the natural course of the passions, the degi'ees of resentment are in proportion, not only to the degi'ee of design and deliberation in the injurious person ; but in pro- portion to this, joined with the degree of the evil designed or premeditated ; since this likewise comes m to mal^e the injustice greater or less. And the evil or harai will appear gi'eater when they feel it, than when they only reflect upon it : so therefore will the injury : and consequently the re- sentment will be gi^eater. The natural object or occasion of settled resentment then being injmy, as distinct from pain or loss ; it is easy to see, that to prevent and to remedy such injuiy, and the miseries arising from it, is the end for which this passion was im- planted in man'. It is to be considered as a weapon, put into our hands by nature, against injmy, injustice, and cruelty : how it may be innocently employed and made use of, shall presently be mentioned-. ' " Butler's mode of deducing and enforcing the duties which arise from the affections ... is one in which he peculiarly delights. He considers for what end these springs of action were inserted in our human nature ; which final cause of our several affections can, he holds, be discovered ; and from this final cause he infers both the true sphere and proper limits of each affection In this way of treating morality, we are taught to perform our duties .... in a spirit of conformity to God's general intentions as shown in the constitution of our nature." — WhewelVs Preface, p. ix. {Ed.) * " The agreement between the Moral Philosophy of Plato and of Butler is indeed very striking. In Plato's Dialogue on the Republic, as in Butler's Sermons, the human soul is represented as a system, a constitution, au organized whole, in which the different elements have not merely their places side by side, but their places above and below each other, with thfeil 458 UPON RESENTMENT. fsER. VIIL The account which has been now given of tliis passion is, in brief, that sudden anger is raised by, and was chiefly intended to prevent or remedy, mere harai distinct from injuiy ; but that it may be raised by injmy, and may serve to prevent or to remedy it; and then the occasions and effects of it are the same with tlie occasions and effects of dehberate anger. But they are essentially distinguished in this, that the latter is never occasioned by harm, distinct from injury; and its natural proper end is to remedy or prevent only that harm, which implies, or is supposed to imply, injuiy or moral wrong. Every one sees that these obsei-v-ations do not relate to those, who have Jiabitually suppressed the course of their passions and affections, cut of regard either to interest or virtue ; or who, from habits of vice and folly, have changed their nature. But, I sup- pose, there can be no doubt but this, now described, is the general course of resentment, considered as a natural passion, neither increased by indulgence, nor corrected by virtue, nor prevailed over by other passions, or pailicular habits of life. As to the abuses of anger, which it is to be observed may be in all different degi-ees, the first which occurs is what is commonly called passion ; to which some men are liable, in tlie same way as others are to the epiiepsij, or any sudden particular disorder. This distemper of the mind seizes them upon the least occasion in the world, and perpetually without any real reason at all : and by means of it they are plainly, eveiy day, every waking hour of their lives, liable and in. danger of running into the most extravagant out- rages. Of a less boisterous, but not of a less innocent kilnd, is j^^^vishness ; which I mention with pity, with real pity to tlie unhappy creatures, wlio, from their inferior station, or other circumstances and relations, are obliged to be in the way of, and to serve for a supply to it. Both these, for aught that I can see, are one and the same principle : but as it takes root in minds of different makes, appointed offices ; and virtue or moral Tightness consists in the due operation of this constitution, the actual realization of this organized suliordination. We may notice that Plato, like Butler, is remarkable among moralists for the lucid and forcible manner in which he has singled out from man's springe of action the irascible element, (liis ivfjtoiihis, Butler's ' Resentment,') and taught its true place and office in a moral scheme." — WlieiceU's PreJ'ace^ p. xxxi. {Ed.) BER. Vin.j UPON KESENTMENT. 459 it appears differently, and so is tome to be distinguished by different names. That which in a more feeble tempei is peevishness, and languidly discharges itself upon every- thing wliich comes in its v/ay ; the same principle in a temper of greater force and stronger passions, becomes rage and fury. In one, the humour dischai^ges itself at once ; in the other, it is continually dischai'ging. This is the account of passion and peevishness, as distinct from each other, and appeai-ing in different persons. It is no objec- tion against the tnith of it, that tliey are both to be seen sometimes in one and the same person. With respect to deliberate resentment, the chief instances of abuse are : when, from partiality to ourselves, we imagine an injuiy done us, when there is none : when this pailiality represents it to us greater than it really is : when we fall into that extravagant and monstrous kind of resentment, towards one who has innocently been the occasion of evil to us ; that is, resentment upon account of pain or incon venience, without injmy ; which is the same absm'dity, as settled anger at a thing that is inanimate : when the indig- nation against injury and injustice rises too high, and is beyond proportion to the particular ill action it is exercised upon : or, lastly, when pain or hann of any kind is inflicted merely in consequence of, and to gratify, that resentment, though naturally raised. It would be endless to descend into and explain all the peculiarities of perv-erseness and wayward humour which might be traced up to this passion. IBut there is one thing, which so generally belongs to and accompanies all excess and abuse of it, as to require being mentioned : a certain determination, and resolute bent of mind, not to be con- vinced or set right ; though it be ever so plain, that there is no reason for the displeasure, that it was raised merely by error or misunderstanding. In this there is doubtless a great mixture of pride ; but there is somewhat more, which I cannot otherwise express, tlian that resentment has taken possession of the temper and of the mind, and will not quit its hold. It would be too minute to inquire whether tliis be anything more than bai'e obstinacy : it is sufficient to obsen'e, that it, in a ver}^ particular manner and degree, belongs to the abuses of this passion. But, notwithstanding all tliese abuses, " Is not just in 460 UPON RESENTMENT. [SER VIII. digiiation against cruelty and wTong cme of the instruments of death, which the Author of our nature hath provided? Are not cinielty, mjustice, and wrong, the natural objects of that indignation ? Surely, then, it may one way or other be mnocently employed against them." True. Since there- fore it is necessary for the very subsistence of the world, that injury, injustice, and cruelty, should be punished; and since compassion, which is so natural to mankind, would render that execution of justice exceedingly difficult and uneasy; indignation against vice and wickedness is, and may be allowed to be, a balance to that weakness of pity, and also to anything else which would prevent the neces- sary methods of severiiy. Those who have never thought upon these subjects, may perhaps not see the w^eight of this : but let us suppose a person guilty of murder, or any other action of cruelty, and that mankind had naturally no indignation against such wickedness and the authors of it ; but that everybody was affected towards such a criminal in the same way as towards an innocent man : compassion, amongst other things, would render the execution of jus- tice exceedingly painful and difficult, and would often quite prevent it. And notwithstanding that the principle of benevolence is denied by some and is really in a veiy low degree, that men are in great measure insensible to the happiness of their fellow-creatures ; yet they are not insen- sible to their misery, but ai'e very strongly moved with it : insomuch that there plainly is occasion for that feeling, which is raised by guilt and demerit, as a balance to that of compassion. Thus much may, I think, justly be allowed to resentment, in the strictest way of moral consideration. The good influence which this passion has in fact upon the aff'airs of the world, is obvious to every one's notice. Men are plainly restrained from injuring their fellow- creatures by fear of their resentment ; and it is very happy tliat they are so, when they would not be restrained by a principle of virtue. And after an injury is done, and there is a necessity that the offender should be brought to justice ; the cool consideration of reason, that tlie secmity and peace of society requires examples of justice should be made, might indeed be sufficient to procure laws to be enacted, and sentence passed : but is it that cool reflection in the injured person, which, for the most pai^t, brings the SEB. Mil.] UPON RESENTMENT. 4C1 offender to justice? Or is it not resentment and indigna- tion against the injuiy and the author of it? I am afraid there is no doubt, which is commonly the case. This how- ever is to be considered as a good effect, notwithstanding it were much to be wished that men would act from a better principle, reason — and cool reflection. The account now given of the passion of resentment, as distinct from all the abuses of it, may suggest to our thoughts the following reflections. Fnst. That vice is indeed of ill desert, and must finally be punished. Why should men dispute concerning the reality of virtue, and whether it be founded in the nature of things, which yet surely is not matter of question; but why should this, I say, be disputed, when every man cames about him this passion, which affords him demonstration, that the rules of justice and equity are to be the guide of his actions ? For every man naturally feels an indignation upon seeing instances of villany and baseness, and therefore cannot commit the same without being self-condemned. Secondly. That w^e should learn to be cautious, lest we charge God foolishly, by ascribing that to him, or the nature he has given us, wiiich is owing wholly to our own abuse of it. Men may speak of the degeneracy and coriTiption of the world, according to the experience they have had of it ; but human nature, considered as the divine workmanship, should methinks be treated as sacred : for in tlie image of God made he man. That passion, from whence men take occasion to rim into the dreadful vices of malice and re- venge; even that passion, as implanted in our nature by God, is not only innocent, but a generous movement cf mind. It is in itself, and in its original, no more than in dignation against injury and wickedness : that which is the only deformity in the creation, and the only reasonable object of abhoiTence and dislike. How manifold evidence have we of the divine wisdom and goodness, when even pain in the natm^al world, and the passion we have beei3 now considering in the moral, come out instances of it \ 462 UPON FOROrVENESS OF INJURIES [SEU DC Sermon IX. ^ — Upon Forgiveness of Injuries. •* Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neiglibour, and hate thine enemy : but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you." — Matt. v. 43, 44. As God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders, both natural and moral, which would happen in tliis state of things ; he hath graciously made some provision against them, by giving us several passions and affections, which arise from, or whose objects are, those disorders. Of this sort ai'e fear, resentment, compassion, and otliers ; of which there could be no occasion or use in a perfect state : but in the present we should be exposed to gi^eater inconveniences without them; tliough tliere are veiy considerable ones, which they themselves are the occasions of. They are en- cumbrances indeed, but such as we ai-e obliged to cany about with us, through this various journey of life : some of them as a guard against the violent assaults of others, and in om- own defence ; some in behalf of others ; and all of them to put us upon, and help to cany us through a course of behaviour suitable to our condition, in default of that perfection of wisdom and virtue, which would be in all respects om^ better security. The passion of anger or resentment hatli already been largely treated of. It hath been shown, that mankind natu- rally feel some emotion of mind against injury and injustice, whoever are the sufferers by it; and even though the in- jurious design be prevented from taking effect. Let tliis be called anger, indignation, resentment, or by whatever name any one shall choose ; the thing itself is understood, and is plainly natural. It has likewise been observed, that tliis natm-al indignation is generally moderate and low enough in mankind, in each pailicular man, when the injmy which excites it dotli not affect himself, or one whom he considers as himself. Therefore the precepts to forgive, and to love our enemies, do not relate to that general indignation against kijujy and the authors of it, but to this feelmg, or resent- ' The following Sermon is in fact a tomraent on the last, and supplies the limits within which " Resentment against injury" is lawful and ngnt. It is clearly needed to counterbalance the statements which have gone beforei and to show that the two duties do not in reality clash. — I^d. BEE. IX.] UPON FOKGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 463 inent> when raised by private or personal injury. But no man could be thought in earnest, who should assert, tl.at, tliough indignation against injury, when others are the sufferers, is innocent and just; yet the same indignation against it, when we ourselves are tlie sufferers, becomes faulty and blamable. These precepts therefore cannot be understood to forbid this in the latter case, more than in fae former. Nay tliey cannot be understood to forbid this feeling in the latter case, though raised to a higher degree than in tlio foraier : because, as was also obsei-ved further, from the veiy constitution of our nature, we cannot but have a greater sensibility to what concerns ourselves. There- fore the precepts in tlie text, and others of the like import witli tliem, must be understood to forbid only tlie excess and abuse of this natural feeling, in cases of personal and private injuiy: tlie chief instances of which excess and abuse have likewise been already remarked; and all ot them, excepting that of retaliation, do so plainly in the very terms express somewhat unreasonable, disproportionate, and absurd, as to admit of no pretence or shadow of justi- fication. But since custom and false honour are on the side of retaliation and revenge, when tlie resentment is natm-al and just; and reasons are sometimes offered in justifi- cation of revenge in tliese cases ; and since love of our enemies is thought too hard a saying to be obeyed : I will show the absolute unlawfulness of the former; the obligations we are under to the latter ; and then proceed to some reflec- tions which may have a more direct and immediate teyidency to beget in us a right temper of mind towards those who have offended us. In showing the imlawfulness of revenge, it is not my present design to examine what is alleged in favour of it, from tlie tyranny of custom and false honour, but only tc consider the nature imd reason of the thing itself; which ought to have prevented, and ought now to extirpate, eveiy- thiiig of that kind. Fhst. Let us begin witli the supposition of that being innocent, which is pleaded for, and which shall be shown to be altogether vicious, the supposition tliat we were allowed to render evil for evil, and see what would be the consequence. Malice or resentment towards any man hath 464 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SEB. DC plainly a tendency to beget the same passion in him -vrho is the object of it; and this again increases it in the other. It is of tlie very natm^e of this vice to propagate itself, not only by way of example, which it does in common witli othei vices, but in a peculiar way of its ovm ; for resentment itself, as well as what is done in consequence of it, is the object of resentment: hence it comes to pass, that the first offence, even when so slight as presently to be dropped and forgotten, becomes the occasion of entering into a long intercourse of ill offices : neither is it at all micommon to see persons, in this progi^ess of strife and vai'iance, change parts : and him, who was at fii'st the injured person, become more injmious and blamable than the aggressor. Put the case, then, that the law of retaliation was universally re- ceived and allowed, as an innocent inile of life, by all ; and the obseiTance of it thought by many (and then it would soon come to be thought by all) a point of honour : this supposes eveiy man in private cases to pass sentence in his own cause ; and likewise, that anger or resentment is to be tlie judge. Thus, from the numberless partialities which we all have for ourselves, every one would often think himself injured when he was not : and in most cases would represent an injury as much greater than it really is ; the imagined dignity of the person offended would scai'ce ever fail to magnify the offence. And if bare retaliation, or returning just the mischief received, always begets resent- ment in the person upon whom we retaliate, what would that excess do? Add to this, that he likewise has his partialities — there is no gomg on to represent this scene of rage and madness : it is manifest tliere would be no bounds, nor any end. If the beginning of strife is as one that leiteth out water, what would it come to when allowed tliis free and unrestrained course ? As coals are to hurnvAg coals, or wood to fire ; so would these contentions men he to kindle strife. And, since the indulgence of revenge hatli manifestly this tendency, and does actually produce these etfects in proportion as it is allowed ; a passion of so dangerous a nature ought not to be indulged, were tliere no other reason against it. Secondly. It hath been shown tliat tlie passion of re- sentment was placed in man, upon supposition of, and RS a prevention or remedy to, irregularity and disorder. BEl. Dt.] UPON FOMGIVENES'* OF INJCBIES. 465 Now whether it be allowed or not, that the passion itself and the gratification of it joined together are painful to the malicious person ; it must however be so with re- spect to the person towards whom it is exercised, and ui)on whom the revenge is taken. Now, if we consider mankind, according to that fine allusion of St. Paul, as one body, and every one members one of anotiier ; it must be allowed that resentment is, with respect to society, a painful remedy. Thus then the veiy notion or idea of this passion, as a remedy or prevention of evil, and as in itself a painful means, plainly shows that it ought never to be made use of, but only in order to produce some greater good. It is to be obseiwed, that this argument is not founded upon an allusion or simile ; but that it is drawn from the veiy nature of the passion itself, and the end for which it was given us. We are obliged to make use of words taken from sensible things, to explain what is the most remote from them: and every one sees from whence the words Prevention and Keraedy are taken. But, if you please, let these words be dropped : the thing itself, I suppose, may be expressed without them. That mankind is a community, that we all stand in a relation to each other, tliat there is a public end and interest of society which each particular is obliged to promote, is the sum of morals ^ Consider, then, the passion of resentment, as given to this one body, as given to society. Nothing can be more manifest, than that resentment is to be considered as a secondaiy pas sion placed in us upon supposition, upon account of, and with regard to, injmy; not, to be sure, to promote and further it, but to render it, and the inconveniences and miseries arising from it, less and fewer than they would be without this passion. It is as manifest, tliat the indulgence of it is, with regard to society, a painful means of obtaining tliese ends. Considered in itself, it is very undesirable, and what society must veiy much wish to be without. It is in eveiy instance absolutely an evil in itself, because it implies producing misery : and consequently must never be 1 It is in asserting the reality of these mutual ties and relationships, and in enforcing them as divinely appointed and involving certain mutual duties, that Butler's philosophy shines conspicuous above the utilitarian standard u< his day. — Ed. 406 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SER. IX, indulged or gratified for itself, by any one who considers mankind as a community or family, and himself as a mem ber of it. Let us now take this in another view. Every natural appetite, passion, and affection, may be gratified in par- ticular instances, without being subservient to the particular chief end, for which these several principles were respec- tively implanted in our nature. And, if neitlier this end, nor any other moral obligation, be contradicted, such grati- fication is innocent. Thus, I suppose, there are cases in which each of these principles, this one of resentment excepted, may innocently be gratified, without being subservient to what is the main end of it : that is, though it does not conduce to, yet it may be gratified without contradicting, that end, or any other obligation. But the gratification of resentment, if it be not conducive to the end for which it was given us, must necessarily contradict, not only the general obligation to benevolence, but likewise that particular end itself. The end, for which it was given, is to prevent or remedy injury, i. e., the misery occasioned by injury; i. e., misery itself; and tlie gratification of it consists in producing misery; i. e.y in contradicting the end for which it was implanted in our nature. This whole reasoning is built upon the difference there is between this passion and all others. No other principle, or passion, hath for its end the misery of our fellow- creatm-es. But malice and revenge meditates evil itself; and to do mischief, to be the author of misery, is the very thing which gi^atifies the passion : this is what it directly tends towards, as its proper design. Other vices eventually do mischief: this alone aims at it as an end. Nothing can with reason be urged in justification of revenge, from tlie good efi'ects which tlie indulgence of it were before mentioned^ to have upon the affairs of the world ; because, tliough it be a remarkable instance of the wisdom of Providence to bring good out of evil, yet vice is vice to him who is guilty of it. " But suppose tiiese good effects are foreseen : " that is, suppose reason in a particular case leads a man tlie same way as passion? Wliy then, to be sure, he should follow his reason,- • Serm. viii. p. 456. / BER. rX..J UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 467 in this as well as in all other cases. So that, turn tlie matter which way ever you will, no more can be allcwed to this passion, tlian what hath been already'. As to that love of our enemies, which is commanded; this supposes tlie general obligation to benevolence or good-will towards mankind : and this being supposed, that precept is no more than to forgive injuries; that is, to keep clear of those abuses before mentioned : because that we have tlie habitual temper of benevolence is taken for granted Resentment is not inconsistent with good-will; for we often see both together in veiy high degrees ; not only in pai'ents towards their children, but in cases of friendship and dependence, where there is no natural relation. These conti-ary passions, though they may lessen, do not necessarily destroy each other. We may therefore love our enemy, and yet have resentment against him for his injurious behaviour towards us. But when this resentment entirely destroys our natural benevolence to- wards him, it is excessive, and becomes malice or revenge. The command to prevent its having this effect, i. e., to forgive iujuries, is the same as to love our enemies ; because tliat love is always supposed, unless desti'oyed by resentment. "But Uiough mankind is the natural object of bene- volence, yet may it not be lessened upon vice, i. e., injury?" Allowed : but if every degree of vice or injury must destroy that benevolence, then no man is the object of our love ; for no man is without faults. " But if lower instances of injury may lessen our bene volence, why may not higher, or the highest, destroy it ? " The answer is obvious. It is not man's being a social creatm-e, much less bis being a moral agent, from whence alo7ie our obligations to good-will towards him arise. There is an obligation to it prior to either of tliese, arising from his being a sensible creature; that is, capable of happiness or misery. Now this obligation cannot be super- seded by his moral character. What justifies public execu- tions is, not that the guilt or demerit of the criminal dispenses with the obligation of good-will, neither would this justify any severity ; but, that his life is inconsistent ' Serm. viii. p. 455. H H 2 468 UPON F0BGIVENE88 OF INJURIES. [SEB. IX. with the quiet and happiness of the world : that is, a gene- ral and more enlarged ohligation necessarily destroys a particular and more confined one of the same kind hicon- sistent with it. Guilt or injuiy, then, does not dispense with, or supersede the duty of, love and good-will. Neither does that peculiar regard to ourselves, which was before allowed to be natural^ to mankind, dispense with it : because that can no way innocently heighten our resentment against those who have been injurious to our- selves in particular, any otherwise tlian as it heightens our sense of the injury or guilt; and guilt, though in the highest degree, does not, as hath been shown, dispense with or supersede the duty of love and good-will. If all this be true, what can a man say, who will dispute the reasonableness, or the possibility, of obeying the divine precept we are now considering ? Let him speak out, and it must be thus he will speak. " Mankind, i. e., a creature defective and faulty, is the proper object of good- will, what- ever his faults are, when they respect others ; but not when they respect me myself." That men should be affected in this manner, and act accordingly, is to be accounted for like other vices ; but to assert that it ought, and must be thus, is self-partiality possessed of tlie very understanding Thus love to our enemies, and those who have been injurious to us, is so far from being a rant, as it has been profanely called, that it is in tnith the law of our nature, and what every one must see and own, who is not quite blinded with self-love. From hence it is easy to see, what is the degree in which we are commanded to love our enemies, or tliose who have been injurious to us. It were well if it could as easily be reduced to practice. It cannot be imagined, that we are required to love them with any peculiar kind of affection. But suppose the person injm^ed to have a due natural sense of the injury, and no more; he ought to be affected to- wards the injurious person in the same way any good men, uninterested in the case, would be, if tliey had the same just sense, which we have supposed the injured person to ave, of the fault : after which there will yet remain real good-will towards the offender. Now what is there m all this, which should be thought ' Serm. viii. p. 45 J. h; fiEB. IX.,] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJI WES. 469 impracticable? I am sure there is nothing in it unreason- able. It is indeed no more than that we should not indulge a passion, which, if generally indulged, would pro pagate itself so as almost to lay waste the world : that we should suppress that paitial, that false self-love, which is the weakness of our nature : that uneasiness and misery should not be produced, witliout any good purpose to be sciTed by it: and that we should not be affected towards persons differently from what Uieir nature and character require. But since to be convinced tliat any temper of mind, and course of behaviour, is our duty, and the contrary vicious, hath but a distant influence upon our temper and actions ; let me add some few reflections, which may have a more direct tendency to subdue those vices in the heart, to beget in us this right temper, and lead us to a right behaviour towards those who have offended us: which reflections, however, shall be such as will further show the obligations we are under to it. No one, I suppose, would choose to have an indignity put upon him, or to be injuriously treated. If, then, there be any probability of a misunderstanding in the case, eitlier from our imagining we are injured when we are not, or representing the injmy to ourselves as greater than it really is ; one would hope an intimation of this soil might be kindly received, and that people would be glad to find the injury not so great as they imagined Therefore, without knowing particulars, I take upon me to assure all persons who think they have received indignities or injurious ti-eat- ment, that they may depend upon it, as in a manner certain, that the offence is not so gi-eat as they themselves imagine. We are in such a peculiar situation, with respect to injuries done to om^selves, that we can scarce any more see them as they really ai^e, than our eye can see itself. If we could place ourselves at a due distance, i. e., be really unpre- judiced, we should frequently discern that to be in reality inadvertence and mistake in our enemy, which we now fancy we see to be malice or scorn. From this proper point of view, we should likewise in all probability see something of these latter in ourselves, and most certainly a great deal of the foiTner. Thus the indignity or mjury would almost infinitely lessen, and perhaps at last come out 470 UPON F0KGITENE8S OP INJURIES. [SER. IX to be nothing at all. Self-love is a medium of a peculiar kind ; in these cases it magnifies everything which is amiss in otliers, at the same time that it lessens eveiything amiss in ourselves. Anger also or hatred may be considered as another false medium of viewing things, which always represents cha- racters and actions much worse than tliey really are. Ill- will not only never speaks, but never thinks well, of the per- son towards whom it is exercised. Thus in cases of offence and enmity, the whole character and behaviour is con- sidered with an eye to that particular part which has offended us, and the whole man appears monstrous, witliout anything right or human in him : whereas the resentment should surely at least be confined to that particular part of the behavioiu: which gave offence : since the other parts of a man's life and character stand just the same as they did before. In general, there are very few instances of enmity carried to any length, but inadvertency, misunderstanding, some real mistake of the case, on one side however, if not on both, has a great share in it. K these things were attended to, these ill-humours could not be carried to any length amongst good men, and they would be exceedingly abated amongst all. And one would hope tliey might be attended to : for all that these cautions come to is really no more than desiring, that things may be considered and judged of as they are in themselves, tliat we should have an eye to, and beware of, what would otherwise lead us into mistakes. So tliat to make allow- ances for inadvertence, misunderstanding, for tlie partiali- ties of self-love, and the false light which anger sets things in ; I say, to make allowances for these, is not to be spoken of as an instance of humbleness of mind, or meekness and moderation of temper ; but as what common sense should suggest, to avoid judging wrong of a matter before us, though virtue and morals were out of the case. And therefore it as much belongs to ill men, who will indulge the vice I have been arguing against, as to good men, who endeavour to subdue it in themselves. In a word, all these cautions, concerning anger and self-love, ai'e no more tlian desiring a man, who was looking through a glass, which either magnified or lessened, to take notice, that the objects 6ER. IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 471 are not iu themselves what they appear through that medium. To all these things one might add, tliat, resentment being out of the case, tliere is not, properly speaking, any such tiling as direct ill-will in one man towards anotlier : therefore the first indignity or injury, if it be not owing t€ inadvertence or mismiderstanding, may, however, be le- solved into other particular passions or self-love : principles quite distinct from ill-will, and which we ought all to be disposed to excuse in others, from experiencing so much of them in ourselves. A great man of antiquity is reported to have said, that, as he never was indulgent to any one fault in himself, he could not excuse those of otliers. This sentence could scarce witli decency come out of the moutli of any human creature. But if we invert the fonner part, and put it thus : that he was indulgent to many faults in himself, as it is to be feared tlie best of us are, and yet was implacable; how monstrous would such an assertion ap- pear! And this is the case in respect to eveiy human creature, in proportion as he is without the forgiving spirit I have been recommending. Further, though injmy, injustice, oppression, the baseness of ingi^atitude, ai^e the natural objects of indignation, or if you please of resentment, as before explained ; yet tliey are likewise the objects of compassion, as they are their own punishment, and without repentance wall for ever be so. No one ever did a designed injury to another, but at the same time he did a much gi-eater to himself. If therefore we would consider things justly, such a one is, according to the natm'al course of our affections, an object of compassion, as well as of displeasure : and to be affected really in tliis manner, I say really, in opposition to show and pretence, argues the true greatness of mind. We have an example of forgiveness in this way in its utmost perfection, and which indeed includes in it all that is good, in that prayer of our blessed Saviour on the cross : Father, forgive them ; for they know not what they do. But lastly, the offences which we are all guilty of against God, and the injm-ies which men do to each other, ai-e often mentioned together : and, making allowances for the infinite distance between the Majesty of heaven and a frail mortal, and likewise for this, that he cannot possibly be affected or 473 UrON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES [SER. IX moved as we are ; offences committed by others against our- selves, and the manner in which we are apt to be affected with them, give a real occasion for calling to mind our own sins against God. Now there is an apprehension and pre- sentiment, natural to mankind, that we ourselves shall one time or other be dealt with as we deal with others ; and a peculiar acquiescence in, and feeling of, the equity and justice of this equal distribution. This natural notion of equity the son of Sirach has put in the strongest way. He that revengeth shall find vengeance from the Lord, and he will surely keep his sins in remembrance. Forgive thy neighbour the hurt he hath done unto thee, so shall thy sins be forgiven when thou prayest. One man beareth hatred against another; and doth he seek pardon from the Lord ? He sheweth no mercy to a man which is like himself; and doth he ask forgiveness of his own sins ^ ? Let any one read our Saviour s parable of the king who took account of his servants'-; and the equity and rigiitness of the sentence which was passed upon him who was unmerciful to his fellow servant, will be felt. There is somewhat in human nature, which accords to and falls in with that method of determination. Let us, then, place before our eyes the time which is represented in the parable ; that of our own death, or the final judgment. Suppose yourselves under the apprehensions of approaching death ; that you were just going to appear naked and without dis- guise before the Judge of all the earth, to give an account of your behaviour towards yom- fellow-creatures : could any- thing raise more dreadful apprehensions of that judgment, than the reflection that you had been implacable, and witli- out mercy towards those who had offended you : without that forgiving spirit towards others, which that it may now be exercised towards yourselves, is your only hope ? And these natural apprehensions are authorized by our Saviour's application of the parable : So likewise shall my heavenl^f Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses. On the other hand, suppose a good man in the same circumstance, in the last pait and close of life ; conscious of many frailties, as tlie best are, but conscious, too, that he had been meek, forgiving, and merciful ; that he had in simplicity of heart been ready to pass over offences against himself : the having felt this good ' Ecclus. xxviii, 1-4. * JIatt xviii. 8ER. X.] UPON SKLF-EECEIT. 473 spirit will give him, not only a full view of the aniiableness of it, but the sui-est hope that he shall meet with it in his Judge. This hkewise is confirmed by his own declaration : If ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will likewise forgive you. And that we might have a constant sense of it upon our mind, the condition is expressed m our daily prayer. A forgiving spirit is therefore absolutely necessary, as ever we hope for pardon of our own sins, as ever we hope for peace of mind in our dying moments, or for tlie divine mercy at that day when we shall most stand in need of it. Sermon X. — Upon Self-Deceit. " And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man." — 2 Sam. xii. 7. These words are the application of Natlian's parable to David, upon occasion of his adulteiy with Bathsheba, and the murder of Uriah her husband. The parable, which is related in the most beautiful simplicity, is tliis ' : There were two men in one city ; the one rich and the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds : hut the poor man had nothing save one little ewe-lamh, which he had bought, and nourished up ; and it grew up together with him, and with his children: it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock, and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that was come unto him, but took the poor mans lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him. And David's anger was greatly kindled against the man ; and he said to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die. And he shall restore the lamb fourfold, be- cause he did this thing, and because he had no pity. David passes sentence, not only tliat there should be a fourfold restitution made ; but he proceeds to the rigour of justice, the man that hath done this thing shall die: and this judg- ment is pronounced witli the utmost indignation against such an act of inhumanity : As the Lord liveth, he shall surely die ; and his anger was greatly kindled against tite man And the prophet answered, Thou art the mau. He bad 474 UPON SELF-DECKfT [SER. X- been guilty of much greater inhumanity, with the utmost deUteration, thought, and contrivance. Near a year must liave passed, between the time of the commission of his crimes, and the time of the prophet's coming to him ; and it does not appear from the story, that he had in all this while the least remorse or contrition. There is not anything, relating to men and characters, more surprising and unaccountable, tlian this partiality to themselves which is observable in many ; as there is nothing of more melancholy reflection, respecting morality, virtue, 8Jid religion. Hence it is that many men seem perfect strangers to their own characters. They think, and reason, and judge quite differently upon any matter relating to themselves, from what they do in cases of others where they are not interested. Hence it is one hears people exposing folhes, which they themselves are eminent for; and talking with gi^eat severity against particular vices, which, if all the world be not mistaken, they themselves ai-e notoriously guilty of. This self-ignorance and self-partiality may be in all different degrees. It is a lower degree of it which David himself refers to in these words, Who can tell how oft he offendeth? cleanse thou me from my secret faults. This is the gi'ound of that advice of Elihu to Job : Surely it is meet to be said unto God, — That which I see not, teach thou me ; if I have done iniquity, I will do no more. And Solomon saw this thing in a very strong light, when he said. He that trusteth his own heart is a fool. This likewise was the reason why that precept. Know thyself, was so fre- quently inculcated by the philosophers of old. For if it were not for that partial and fond regard to ourselves, it would certainly be no gi-eat difficulty to know our own character, what passes within the bent and bias of our mind ; much less would there be any difficulty in judging rightly of our own actions. But from this partiality it fre- quently comes to pass, that tlie observation of many men's being themselves last of all acquainted with what falls out \n their own families, may be applied to a neai-er home, to what passes within their own breasts There is plainly, in the generality of mankind, an absence of doubt or distrust, in a very great measure, as to their moral character and behaviour ; and likewise a disposition to take for granted, that all is right and well with them in SER X._ UPON SELF-DECEIT. 475 these respects. The former is owing to their not reflecting, not exercising their judgment upon themselves ; the latter, to self-love. I am not speaking of that extravagance, which is sometimes to be met with ; instancps of persons declaring m words at length, that they never were in the ^vrong, no. had ever any ditlidence of the justness of their conduct, in their whole lives. No, these people are too far gone to have anytliing said to theni. The thing before us is indeed of tliis kind, but in a lower degree, and confined to the moral character ; somewhat of which we almost all of us have, without reflecting upon it. Now consider, how long and how grossly, a person of the best understanding might be imposed upon by one of whom he had not any suspicion, and in whom he placed an entire confldence ; especially if there were friendship and real kindness in the case : surely tliis holds even stronger with respect to that self we are all so fond of. Hence arises in men a disregard of reproof and instruction, iTiles of conduct and moral disci- pline, which occasionally come in their way : a disregard, I say, of these ; not in every respect, but in tliis single one, namely, as what may be of sendee to them in particular towai'ds mending their own hearts and tempers, and making tliem better men. It never in earnest comes into their tlioughts, whetlier such admonitions may not relate, and be of service to themselves ; and this quite distinct from a positive persuasion to the contrary, a persuasion from reflec tion that they are innocent and blameless in those respects. Thus we may invert the observation which is somewhere made upon Brutus, that he never read, but in order to make himself a better man. It scarce comes into the thoughts of tlie generality of mankind, that this use is to be made of moral reflections which tliey meet with; that this use, I say, is to be made of them by tliem selves, for everybody observes and wonders that it is not done by others. Further, there are instances of persons having so fixed and steady an eye upon their own interest, whatever they place it in, and the interest of those whom they consider as themselves, as in a manner to regard nothing else ; their views are almost confined to this alone. Now we cannot be acquainted with, or in any propriety of speech be said to know anything, but what we attend to. If therefore tliey attend only to one side, they really will not, cannot see of 476 UPON 8EJ.F-DECEIT. [sER X. know what is to be alleged on the other. Though a man hath the best eyes in the world, he cannot see any way but that wliich he turns them. Thus these persons, without passing over the least, the most minute thing, which can possibly be urged in favour of themselves, shall overlook entirely tlie plainest and most obvious things on the otlier side. And whilst they are mider the power of this temper, tliought and consideration upon the matter before them has scarce any tendency to set them right: because they are engaged ; and their deliberation concerning an action to be done, or reflection upon it afterwards, is not to see whether it be right, but to find out reasons to justify or palliate it ; palliate it, not to others, but to themselves. In some tliere is to be observed a general ignorance of themselves, and wrong way of thinking and judging in everything relating to themselves ; their fortune, reputation, everything in which self can come in : and this perhaps attended with the rightest judgment in all other matters. In otliers this partiality is not so general, has not taken hold of the whole man, but is confined to some particular favourite passion, interest, or pursuit; suppose ambition, covetousness, or any other. And these persons may pro- bably judge and determine what is perfectly just and proper, even in things in which they themselves are concerned, if t^hese things have no relation to their particular favourite passion or pursuit. Hence arises that amazing incongruity, and seeming inconsistency of character, from whence shght obsei-vers take it for granted, that tlie whole is hypocritical and false ; not being able otherwise to reconcile the several parts : whereas in truth there is real honesty, so far as it goes. There is such a thing as men's being honest to such a degi'ee, and in such respects, but no further. And this, as it is true, so it is absolutely necessaiy to be taken notice of, and allowed them ; such general and undistinguishing censure of their whole character, as desigTiing and false, being one main thing which confirms them in their self- deceit. They know that the whole censui^e is not true; and so take for granted that no part of it is. But to go on with the explanation of the thing itself. Vice in general consists in having an unreasonable and too great regard to ourselves, in comparison of others. Eobbei-y «nd murder is never from the love of mjustice or .g from them, is manifested from hence ; that there could not be this pleasure, were it not for that prior suitableness be- tween the object and the passion : there could be no enjoy- ment or delight from one thing more than another, from eating food more than from swallowing a stone, if there were not an affection or appetite to one thing more than another. Every particular affection, even the love of our neighbour, is as really our own affection, as self-love ; and the pleasure arising from its gratification is as much my own pleasure, as the pleasure self-love would have, from knowing I myself should be happy some time hence, would be my own pleasure. And if, because every particular affection is a man's own, and the pleasure arising from its gratification his own pleasure, or pleasure to himself, such particular affection must be called self-love ; according to this way of speaking, no creature whatever can possibly act but merely from self-love ; and every action and every affection whatever is to be resolved up into this one principle. But, then, this is not the language of mankind : or if it were, we sliould want words to express the difference between the principle of an action, proceeding from cool consideration that it will be to my own advantage ; and an action, suppose of re- venge, or of friendship, by which a man runs upon certain iiiin, to do evil or good to another. It is manifest the principles of these actions are totally different, and so want different words to be distinguished by : all that they agree in is, that they both proceed from, and are done to gratify, an inclination in a man s self. But the principle or inclina- tion in one case is self-love : in the other, hatred or love ot another. There is, then, a distinction between the cool principle of self-love, or general desire of our own happiness, as one part of our nature, and one principle of action ; and the particular affections towards particular external objects, as axiotlier part of our nature, and another principle of action. How much soever therefore is to be allowed to self- love, yet it cannot be allowed to be the whole of our inward constitution ; because, you see, tliere are other pai'ts or principles which come into it. Further, private happiness or good is all which self-love 6ER. XI.^ OUR NEIGHBOUR. 487 can make us desire, or be concerned about : in having this consists its gratification; it is an affection to ourselves; a regard to our own interest, happiness, and private good : and in the proportion a man hath this, he is interested, or a lover of himself. Let this be kept in mind ; because there is commonly, as I shall presently have occasion to observe, another sense put upon these words. On the other hand, particular affections tend towards particular external things : these are their objects : having these is their end : in this consists their gratification : no matter whether it be, or be not, upon the whole, our interest or happiness. An action done from the former of these principles is called an interested action. An action proceeding from any of tlie latter has its denomination of passionate, ambitious, friendly, revengeful, or any other, from the particular appetite or affection from which it proceeds. Thus self-love as one part of human nature, and the several particular principles as the other part, are, themselves, their objects and ends, stated and shown. From hence it will be easy to see, how far, and in what ways, each of these can contribute and be subsen'ient to the private good of the individual. Happiness does not consist in self-love. The desire of happiness is no more the thing itself, than the desire of riches is the possession or enjoyment of them. People may love them- selves with tlie most entire and unbounded affection, and yet be extremely miserable. Neither can self-love any way help them out, but by setting them on work to get rid of the causes of their miseiy, to gain or mal^e use of those objects which are by natm-e adapted to afford satisfaction. Happiness or satisfaction consists only in the enjoyment of those objects, which are by nature suited to our several particular appetites, passions, and affections. So that if self-love wholly engrosses us, and leaves no room for any other principle, there can be absolutely no such tiling at all as happiness, or enjoyment of any kind wiiatever; since happiness consists in the gratification of particular passions, which supposes the having of tliem. Self-love, then, does not constitute this or that to be our interest or good ; but, our interest or good being constituted by nature and supposed, self-love only puts us upon obtain- ing and securing it. Therefore, if it be possible, that i88 UPON THE LOVE OF [sER. XI, self-love may prevail and exert itself in a degi'ee or mannei which is not subservient to this end ; then it will not follow, that our interest will be promoted in proportion lo the de- gree in which that principle engrosses us, and prevails over others. Nay fmlher, the private and contracted alfection, when it is not subservient to this end, private good, may, for anything that appears, have a direct contraiy tendency and effect. And if we will consider the matter, we shall see that it often really has. 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 gratifi- cations within his reach, which others have their minds free and open to. Over-fondness for a child is not gene- rally thought to be for its advantage : and, if there be any guess to be made from appearances, surely that cha- racter we call selfish is not the most promising for hap- piness. 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 degi'ee and manner which may prevent obtaining the means and materials of enjoyment, as well as the making use of them. Im- moderate 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 endea- vour to get over all inordinate regard to, and consider- ation of ourselves. Every one of our passions and affec- tions hath its natural stint and bound, which may easily be exceeded ; whereas our enjoyments can possibly be but in a determinate measure and degree. Therefore such excess of the affection, since it cannot procure any enjoy- ment, must in all cases be useless ; but is generally attended with inconveniences, and often is downright pain and misery. This holds as much with regard to self-love as to all other affections. The natural degree of it, so far as it sets us on work to gain and make use of the materials of satisfaction, may be to our real advantage ; but beyond or besides this, it is in several respects an inconvenience and disadvantage. Thus it appears, that private interest is so far from being likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over ail otiiei' prin- BER. XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 489 ciples; tliat tJie contracted affection may be so prevalent as to disappoint itself, and even contradict its own end, private good. " But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever tliought there was any rivalship between the love of great- ness, honour, power, or between sensual appetites, and self-love? No, there is a perfect harmony between them. It is by means of these particular appetites and affections that self-love is gratified in enjoyment, happiness, and satisfaction. The competition and rivalship is between self-love and the love of our neighbour: that affection which leads us out of ourselves, makes us regardless of our own interest, and substitute that of another in its stead." Whether, then, there be any peculiar compe- tition and contrariety in this case, shall now be considered. Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist in or be an affection to ourselves, a regard to our own private good : it is therefore distinct from benevolence, which is an affection to the good of our fellow-creatures. But that benevolence is distinct from, that is, not the same thing with self-love, is no reason for it being looked upon with any peculiar suspicion; because every principle whatever, by means of which self-love is gratified, is distinct from it : and all things which are distinct from each other are equally so. A man has an affection or aversion to another : that one of these tends to, and is gratified by doing good, that the other tends to, and is gTatified by doing harm, does not in the least alter the respect which either one or the other of these inward feelings has to self-love. We use the word property so as to exclude any other persons having an interest in that of which we say a particular man has tiie property. And we often use the word selfish so as to exclude in the same manner all regards to the good of others. But tlie cases are not parallel : for though that exclusion is really part of the idea of property ; yet such positive exclusion, or bringing this peculiar disregard to the good of others into the idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or changing it from what it was before stated to consist in, namely, in an affection to ourselves ^ This being the whole idea of self-love, it can no otherwise excludo good-will or love of others, than merely by not niciudiiig it, ' P. 127. 490 UPON THE LOVE OP [SEE. XI. no otherwise, than it excludes love of arts or of reputation, or of anything else. Neither on the other hand does bene- volence, any more than love of arts or of reputation, exclude self-love. Love of our neighbour, then, has just the same respect to, is no more distant from self-love, than hatred of our neighbour, or than love or hatred of anything else. Thus the principles, from which men rush upon certain ruin for the destruction of an enemy, and for the preser- vation of a friend, have the same respect to the private affection, and are equally interested or equally disinterested : and it is of no avail, whether they are said to be one or the other. Therefore to those who are shocked to hear virtue spoken of as disinterested, it may be allowed that it is indeed absurd to speak thus of it; unless hatred, several particular instances of vice, and all the common affections and aversions in mankind, are acknowledged to be dis- interested too. Is tliere any less inconsistence between the love of inanimate things, or of creatures merely sensi- tive, and self-love ; than between self-love and the love of our neighbour ? Is desire of and delight in the happiness of another any more a diminution of self-love, tlian desire of and delight in the esteem of another? They are both equally desire of and delight in somewhat external to our selves: either both or neither are so. The object of self- love is expressed in the term self; and every appetite of sense, and every particular affection of the heart, are equally interested or disinterested, because tlie objects of them all are equally self or somewhat else. Wliatever ridicule, there- fore, the mention of a disinterested principle or action may be supposed to lie open to, must, upon the matter being thus stated, relate to ambition, and every appetite and par- ticular affection, as much as to benevolence. And indeed all tlie ridicule, and all tlie grave perplexity, of which this subject hath had its full share, is merely from words. The most intelligible way of speaking of it seems to be this tliat self love, and the actions done in consequence of it (for these will presently appear to be the same as to this question), are interested ; *Jiat particular affections towards external objects, and the actions done in consequence of those affections, are not so But every one is at liberty to use words as he pleases. All that is he,re insisted upon IS, tliat ambition, revenge, benevolence, all paiticular pas BER. XI.] OUR NKIGHT50UR. 491 sions whatever, and tlie actions tliey produce, are equally interested or disinterested. Thus it appeal's tliat there is no peculiar contrariety between self-love and benevolence ; no greater competition between these, thjui between any other particular affections and self-love. This relates to the affections themselves. Let us now see whether there be any peculiar contrariety between the respective courses of life which these affections lead to ; whether there be any greater competition between the pursuit of private and of public good, than between any other particular pursuits and that of private good. There seems no other reason to suspect that there is any such peculiar contrariety, but only that the courses of action which benevolence leads to, has a more direct tendency to promote the good of others, than that course of action which love of reputation, suppose, or any other particular affection leads to. But that any affection tends to the happiness of another, does not hinder its tending to one's own happiness too. That others enjoy the benefit of tlie air and the light of tbe sun, does not hinder but that these are as much one's own private advantage now, as they would be if we had the property of thern exclusive of all otliers. So a pursuit which tends to promote the good of another, yet may have as great tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit which does not tend to the good of another at all, or which is mischievous to him. All par- ticular affections whatever — resentment, benevolence, love of arts — equally lead to a course of action for their own gi'atifi- cation, i. e., the gratification of ourselves ; and the gratifica- tion of each gives delight : so far, then, it is manifest they have all the same respect to private interest. Now take into consideration further, concerning these three pursuits, tliat the end of the first is the harm, of the second, the good of another, of the last, somewhat indifferent; and is tliere any necessity, that tliese additional considerations should alter the respect, which we before saw these three pursuits had to private interest ; or render any one of them less conducive to it, than any other? Thus one man's affection is to honour as his end; in order to obtain which he thinks no pains too great. Suppose another, with such a singularity of mind, as to have the same affection to public good as his end, which he endeavours with the same 492 UPON THE LOVE OF [SER. XI. labour to obtain. In case of success, surel/ the man of be- nevolence hath as great enjoyment as the man of ambition; tliey both equally having the end of their affections, in the same degree, tended to : but in case of disappointment, the benevolent man has clearly the advantage ; since endeavour- ing to do good considered as a virtuous pursuit, is gratified l)y its own consciousness, i. e., is in a degree its own reward. And as to these two, or benevolence and any other par- ticular passions whatever, considered in a further view, as forming a general temj)e", which more or less disposes us for enjoyment of all the common blessings of life, distinct from their own gratification : is benevolence less the temper of tranquillity and freedom than ambition or covetousness ? Does the benevolent man appear less easy with himself, from his love to his neighbour? Does he less relish his being? Is there any peculiar gloom seated on his face? Is his mind less open to entertainment, to any particular gratification? Nothing is more manifest, than that being in good humour, which is benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself the temper of satisfaction and enjoyment. Suppose, then, a man sitting down to consider how ha might become most easy to himself, and attain the gi'eatest pleasure he could ; all that which is his real natural happi- ness. This can only consist in the enjoyment of those objects, which are by nature adapted to our several facul ties. These particular enjoyments make up the sum total of our happiness ; and they are supposed to arise from riches, honours, and the gratification of sensual appetites. Be it so : yet none profess themselves so completely happy in these enjoyments, but that there is room left in the mind of others, if they were presented to them : nay, these, as much as they engage us, are not thought so high, but that human nature is capable even of greater. Now there have been persons in all ages, who have professed that they found satisfaction in the exercise of charity, in tlie love of their neighbour, in endeavom'ing to promote the ha]ipiness of all they had to do with, and in the pursuit of what is just, and right, and good, as the general bent of their mind, and end of their life ; and that doing an action of baseness or cruelty, would be as great violence to their self, as much breaking in upon their nature, as any ex- ternal force. Persons of this character would add, if t/iej BER. XT.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 453 might be heai'd, that they consider themselves as acting in the view of an infinite Being, who is in a much higher sense tlie object of reverence and of love, than all the world besides ; and therefore they could have no more en- joyment from a wicked action done under his eye, than tlie persons to whom they are making their apology could, il all mankind were the spectators of it ; and that the satis- faction of approving themselves to his unerring judgment, to whom they thus refer all their actions, is a more con- tinued settled satisfaction than any this world can afford ; as also that they have, no less tlian others, a mind free and open to all the common innocent gratifications of it, such as they are. And if we go no further, does there appear any absurdity in this? Will any one take upon him to say, that a man cannot find his account in this general course of life, as much as in the most unbounded ambition, and the excesses of pleasure ? Or that such a person has not consulted so well for himself, for the satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the ambitious or dissolute man ? And though the consideration, that God himself will in the end justify their taste, and support their cause, is not formally to be insisted upon here ; yet thus much comes in, that all enjoyments whatever are much more clear and unmixed from the assurance that they will end well. Is it certain, then, that there is nothing in these pretensions to happiness ? especially when there are not wanting persons, who have supported themselves with satisfactions of this kind in sickness, poverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs of death ; whereas it is manifest all other enjoyments fail in these circumstances. This surely looks suspicious of having somewhat in it. Self-love, methinks, should be alarmed. May she not possibly pass over greater pleasures^ than those she is so wholly taken up with ? The short of the matter is no more than this. Happi- ness consists in the gratification of certain affections, appe- tites, passions, with objects which are by nature adapted to them. Self-love may indeed set us on work to gratify these ; but happiness or enjo^inent has no immediate con- nection with self-love, but arises from such gTatification alone. Love of our neighbour is one of those affections. This, considered as a virtuous principle, is gratified by a consciousness of endeavouring to promote the good ol 494 upo:t the love of [si'.r. xi others but considered as natural affection, its grati;'Jcatioii consists in the actual accomphshment of this endeavour. Now indulj^ence or gratification of this affection, whether in that consciousness, or this accomplishment, has the same respect to interest, as indulgence of any other affec- tion ; they equally proceed from or do not proceed from self-love, they equally include or equally exclude tliis prin- ciple. Thus it appears, that benevolence and the j^ursuits of public good hath at least as great respect to self-love and ihfi pursuits of private good, as any other particular passions, and their respective pursuits Neither is covetousness. whether as a temper or pursuit, any exception to this. For if by covetousness is meant the desire and pursuit of riches for their own sake, witliout any regard to, or consideration of, the uses of them ; this hath as little to do wdth self-love, as benevolence hath. But by this word is usually meant, not such madness and total distraction of mind, but immoderate affection to and pursuit of riches as possessions in order to some further end ; namely, satisfaction, interest, or good. This therefore is not a particular affection, or particular pursuit, but it is the general principle of self-love, and the general pursuit o^ our own interest ; for which i-eason, the word selfish is by eveiy one appropriated to this temper and pursuit. Now as it is ridiculous to assert, that self-love and the love of our neighbour are tlie same : so neither is it asserted, tliat following tliese different affections hath the same tendency and respect to our own interest. The comparison is not between self-love and the love of our neighbour; between pm'suit of our own interest, and the interest of others : but between the several particular affections in human nature towards external objects, as one part of the comparison ; and the one particular affection to the good of our neighbour, as the other part of it : and it has been shown that all tliese have the same respect to self- love and private interest. There is indeed frequently an mconsistence or interfering between self-love or private interest, and the several par- ticular appetites, passions, affections, or the pursuits they lead to. But this competition or interfering is merely accidental ; and hai)pens much oftener between pride, revenge, sensual f^atiti cations and private intej-est, tiian 6EE. XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 495 between private interest and benevolence. For notliing is more common, than to see men give tlemselves up to a passion or an affection, to their known prejudice and ruin, and in direct contradiction to manifest and real interest, and the loudest calls of self-love : whereas the seeming competitions and inteifering, between benevolence and private interest, relate much more to the materials or means of enjoyment, than to enjoyment itself. There is often an interfering in the former, when there is none in the latter. Thus as to riches ; so much money as a man gives away, so much less will remain in his possession. Here is a real interfering. But though a man cannot possibly give without lessening his fortune, yet there are multitudes might give without lessening their own enjoy- ment ; because they may have more than they can turn to any real use or advantage to themselves. Thus, the more thought and time any one employs about the interests and good of others, he must necessarily have less to attend his own; but he may have so ready and large a supply of his own wants, that such thought might be really useless to himself, though of gi'eat seiwice and assistance to otliers. The general mistake, that there is some gi-eater incon- sistence between endeavouring to promote the good of another and self-interest, tlian between self-interest and pursuing anything else, seems, as hath already been hinted, to arise from our notions of property ; and to be carried on by this property's being supposed to be itself our happi- ness or good. People are so very much taken up with this one subject, that they seem from it to have formed a general way of thinking, which they apply to other things that they have nothing to do with. Hence, in a confused and slight way, it might well be taken for granted, that another's having no interest in an affection, {i. e., his good not being tlie object of it,) renders, as one may speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater; and that if another had an interest in it, this would render his less, or occasion that such affection could not be so friendly to self-love, or conducive to piivate good, as an affection or pursuit which has not a v-egard to the good of another. This, I say, might be taken for granted, whilst it was not attended to, that the object of every par- ticulai' affection is equally somewhat external to ourselves i 4.96 UPON THiS LOVE OF [sER. XL and whether it be the good of another person, or whether it be any other external thing, makes no aheration with regard to its being one's o^vn affection, and the gratification of it one's own private enjoyment. And so far as it is taken for granted, that barely having the means and mate rials of enjoyment is what constitutes interest and liappi- ness; that our interest or good consists in possessions themselves, in having the property of riches, houses, lands, gardens, not in the enjoyment of them ; so far it will even more strongly be taken for granted, in the way already explained, that an affection's conducing to the good of another must even necessarily occasion it to conduce less to private good, if not to be positively detrimental to it. For if property and happiness are one and the same thing, as by increasing the property of another, you lessen your own property, so by promoting the happiness of another, you must lessen your own happiness. But what- ever occasion the mistake, I hope it has been fully proved to be one ; as it has been proved, that there is no peculiar rivalship or competition between self-love and benevolence ; that as there may be a competition between these two, so there may also between any particular affection whatever and self-love ; that every particular affection, benevolence among the rest, is subservient to self-love, by being the instrument of private enjoyment; and that in one respect benevolence contributes more to private interest, i. e., enjoyment or satisfaction, than any other of the particular common affections, as it is in a degreee its own gratifi- cation. And to all these things may be added, that religion, from whence arises our strongest obligation to benevolence, is so far from diso\vning the principle of self-love, that it often addresses itself to that very principle, and always to the mind in that state when reason presides : and there can no access be had to the understanding, but by convincing men, that the course of life we would persuade them to is not contrary to their interest. It may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to us ; that they will, nay, if you please, that they ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and harmony, and proportion, if tliere SHil. XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 491 should ever be, as it is impossible tliere e^•er should be, any inconsistence between them : though these last, too, as expressing tlie fitness of actions, are real as truth itself. Let it be allowed, though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good, as such ; yet, that when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pm-suit, till we ai'e convinced that it will be for our happi- ness, or at least not contrary to it. Common reason and hmnanity will have some influence upon mankind, whatever becomes of speculations ; but, so Car as the interests of virtue depend upon the theoiy of it oeing secm-ed from open scorn, so far its very being in the world depends upon its appearing to have no contrariety to private interest and self-love. The foregoing observations, therefore, it is hoped, may have gained a little ground in favour of the precept before us ; tlie particulai' explana tion of which shall be the subject of the next discourse. I will conclude at present, with observing the peculiar obligation which we are under to virtue and religion, as enforced in the verses following the text, in the epistle for the day, from our Saviour's coming into the world. The night is far spent, the day is at hand; let us the^-efore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light, &c. The meaning and force of which exhortation is, that Christianity lays us under new obligations to a good life, as by it tlie will of God is more clearly re- vealed, and as it affords additional motives to the practice of it, over and above those which arise out of the na- ture of virtue and vice; I might add, as our Saviom' has set us a perfect example of goodness in our own nature. Now love and charity is plainly the thing in which he hath placed his religion; in which, therefore, as we have any pi-otence to the name of Christians, we must place ours. He hath at once enjoined it upon us by way of command with peculiar force ; and by his example, as having under- taken the work of our salvation out of pure love and good- will to mankind. The endeavour to set home this example upon our minds is a very proper employment of this season, which is bringing on the festival of his birth : which as it may teach us many excellent lessons of humi- hty, resignation, and obedience to the v.'ill of God; so 498 UPON THE LOVE OF ^tiER. XIL there is none it recommends with greater authority, force, and advantage, than this of love and chai'ity ; since it was for us men, and for our salvation, that he came down from hea- ven, and was incarnate, and was made man ; that he might ieacli us our duty, and more especially that he might enforce the practice of it, reform mankind, and finadly bring us to that eternal salvatioUy of which he is th§ Author to all those that obey him. Seemon XII. — Upon the Loye of Our Neighbour. " And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." — Rom. xiiu 9. Having already removed the prejudices against public spirit, or the love of our neighbour, on the side of private interest and self-love; I proceed to the particular expla- nation of the pnjcept before us, by showing. Who is our neighbour: In what sense we are required to love him as our- selves : The influence such love would have upon our behaviour in life: and lastly, How this commandment comprehends in it all others. 1. The objects and due extent of this affection will be understood by attending to the nature of it, and to the nature and circumstances of mankind in this world ^ The love of our neighbour is the same with charity, benevolence, or good-will: it is an affection to the good and happiness of our fellow-creatures. This implies in it a disposition to produce happiness : and this is the simple notion of goodness, which appears so amiable wherever we meet with it. From hence it is easy to see, that th^p perfection of goodness consists in love to the whole uni- verse. This is the perfection of Almighty God. But as man is so much limited in his capacity, as so small a part of tlie creation comes under his notice and ' When we are told that the " love of our neighbour " is a duty, what is to be laid down as the sphere of the active exercise of this affection? Not the whole universe ; for we are finite beings. Not even the whole of mankind ; for even that is too extensive a sphere. Not our country ; that would be too wide a range, and to the multitude it has but little meaning. We want a narrower and more practical sphere ; we find it in " Our Neighbour;" that is, in that part of mankind with whom we aie brought iiito any ir.-.mediate relation. — Ed, BER. Xn.J OUR NEIGHBOUR. 49^ iufluence, and as we are not used to consider things ill so general away; it is not to be thought of, that the universe should be the object of benevolence to such crea- tures as we are. Thus in that precept of our Saviour, Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect^ the perfection of the divine goodness is proposed to oiu: imitation as it is promiscuous, and extends to th3 evil as well as the good ; not as it is absolutely universal, imitation of it in this respect being plainly beyond us. The object is too vast. For this reason moral writers also have substituted a less general object for om* benevolence — mankind. But this likewise is an object too general, and very much out of our view. Therefore persons more practical have, instead of mankind, put our country ; and this is what we call a public spirit; which in men of public stations is the character of a patriot. But this is speaking to the upper part of the world. Kingdoms and governments are large ; and the sphere of action of far the greatest part of mankind is much narrower than the government they live under : or, however, common men dO' not consider their actions as affecting the whole commu- nity of which they are members. There plainly is want- ing a less general and nearer object of benevolence for the- bulk of men, than that of their country. Therefore the Scripture, not being a book of theory and speculation, but a plain rule of life for manlcind, has with the utmost pos- sible propriety put the principle of virtue upon the love of our neighbour; which is that part of the universe, that part of mankind, that part of our country, which comes under our immediate notice, acquaintance, and influence, and with which we have to do. This is plainly the true account or reason, why our Saviour places the principle of virtue in the love of oun neighbour; and the account itself shows who are compre- hended under that relation. II. Let us now consider in what sense we are com- manded to love our neighbour as ourselves. This precept, in its first delivery by our Saviour, is thus^ introduced ; Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy strength; and thy. neighbour as thyself. These very different manners of ex* ' Matt. V. 48. K K a 500' UPON THE LOVE iW [SER XII pression dc l jI lead our thoughts to the same measure oi aegi-ee of love, common to both objects; but to one, peculiar to each. Supposmg then, which is to be sup- posed, a distinct meaning and propriety in tlie words as thyself; the precept we ai'e considering will admit of any of these senses : that we bear the saitie kind of affection to our neighbour, as we do to ourselves ; or, that the love we bear to our neighbour should have some certain proportion or other to self-love ; or, lastly, that it should bear the par- ticular proportion of equality, that it he in the same degree. First. The precept may be understood as requiring only, that we have the same kind of affection to our fellow- creatures, as to ourselves: that, as every man has the principle of self-love, which disposes him to avoid misery, and consult his own happiness ; so we should cultivate the affection of good-will to our neighbour, and that it should influence us to have the same kind of regard to him. This at least must be commanded : and this will not only prevent our being injurious to him, but will also put us upon promoting his good. There are blessings in life, which we share in common with others ; peace, plenty, freedom, healthful seasons. But i^eal benevolence to our fellow-creatures would give us the notion of a common interest in a stricter sense; for in the degree we love another, his interest, his joys and sorrows, are our own. It is from self-love that we form the notion of private good, and consider it as om* own : love of our neighbour would teach us thus to appropriate to ourselves his good and wel- fare, to consider ourselves as having a real share in his happiness. Thus the principle of benevolence would be an advocate within our own breasts, to take care of the interests of our fellow-creatures in all the interfering and competitions which cannot but be, from the imperfection of our nature, and the state we are in. It would likewise, in some measure, lessen that interfering ; and hinder men from forming so strong a notion of private good, exclusive of the good of others, as we conmionly do. Thus, as the private affection makes us in a peculiar manner sensible of humanity, justice or injustice, when exercised towards our- selves ; love of our neighbour would give us the same kind of sensibility in his behalf. This would be tlie greatest uecui'ity of oui" uniform obedience to that most equitable BER. XIL] our NElGHBObK. 601 rule ; Wliatsoever ye would that men should do unto xjou, do ye even so unto them All this is indeed no more than that we should have a real love to our neighbom-: but then, which is to be observed, the words, as thyself, express this in the most distinct manner, and determine the jDrecept to relate to the affection itself. The advantage, which tliis principle of benevolence has over other remote considerations, is, that it is itself the temper of virtue : and likewise, that it is the chief, nay the only effectual security of om' performing the several offices of kindness we owe to our fellow-creatures. When from distant considerations men resolve upon any- thing to which they have no liking, or perhaps an averse- ness, they are perpetually finding out evasions and excuses; which need never be wanting, if people look for them: and they equivocate with themselves in the plainest cases in the world. This may be in respect to single determinate acts of virtue : but it comes in much more, where the obligation is to a general course of behaviour ; and most of all, if it be such as cannot be reduced to fixed determi- nate rules. This observation may account for the diver- sity of expression, in that known passage of the prophet Micah : to do justly, and to love mercy. A man's heart must be formed to humanity and benevolence, he must love mercy, otherwise he will not act mercifully in any settled course of behaviour. As consideration of the future sane tions of religion is our only security of persevering in our duty, in cases of great temptations : so to get our heart and temper formed to a love and liking of what is good is absolutely necessary in order to our behaving rightly in the familiar and daily intercourses amongst mankind. Secondly. The precept before us may be understood to require, tliat we love our neighbour in some certain propor- tion or other, accordmg as we love ourselves. And indeed a man's character cannot be determined by the love he bears to his neighbour, considered absolutely: but the proi)ortioii which tliis bears to self love, whether it be attended to or not, is the chief thing which forms the character, and influences the actions. For, as the form of the body ia a composition of various parts ; so likewise our inwai'd «;tructure is not simple or uniform, but a composition of vai'ious passions, appetites, aflections. together with ratio- 50S UPON THE LOVE OP [sEE. XII nality ; including in this last both the discernment of what is riglit, and a disposition to regulate ourselves by it There is greater variety of parts in what we call a cha- racter, than there are features in a face : and the morality of that is no more determined by one part, than the beauty or deformity of this is by one single feature : each is to be judged of by all the parts or features, not taken singly, but together. In the inward frame the various passions, appe- tites, affections, stand in different respects to each o^er. The principles in our mind may be contradictory, or checks and allays only, or incentives and assistants to each other. And principles, which in their nature have no kind of con- trariety or affinity, may yet accidentally be each others allays or incentives. From hence it comes to pass, that though we were able to look into the inward contexture of the heart, and see with the greatest exactness in what degree any one prin- ciple is in a particular man; we could not from thence determine, how far that principle would go towards forming the character, or what influence it would have upon tlie actions, unless we could likewise discern what other prin- ciples prevailed in him, and see the proportion which that one bears to the otliers. Thus, though two men should have the affection of compassion in tlie same degi'ee exactly : yet one may have the principle of resentment, or of ambition so strong in him, as to prevail over tliat of compassion, and prevent its having any influence upon his actions ; so that he may deserve the character of an hard or cruel man : whereas the other having compassion in just the same degree only, yet having resentment or ambition in a lower degree, his compassion may prevail over tliem, so as to influence his actions, and to denominate his temper compassionate. So that, how strange soever it may appear to people who do not attend to tlie thing, yet it is quite manifest, that, when we say one man is more resenting or compassionate than another, this does not necessarily imply that one has the principle of resentment or of compassion stronger than the other. For if the proportion, which resentment or compassion bears to other inward principles, is gi-eater in one than in the other; tkis is itself sufticient to denominate one more resenting or comj;)as&ioi:\ate than the other. SER. XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR 50S Further, tlie whole system, as I may speak, of affections (including rationality), which constitute the heart, as this word is used in Scripture and on moral subjects, are each and all of them stronger in some than in others. Now the proportion which the two general affections, benevolence and self-love, bear to each other, according to this interpre- tation of the text, denominates men's character as to virtue. Suppose, then, one man to have the principle of benevo- lence in a higher degree than another : it will not follow from hence, that his general temper, or character, or actions, will be more benevolent than the other's. For he may have self-love in such a degi'ee as quite to prevail over benevolence ; so that it may have no influence at all upon his actions; whereas benevolence in the other person, though in a lower degi'ee, may yet be the strongest prin ciple in his heart; and strong enough to be the guide of his actions, so as to denominate him a good and virtuous man. The case is here as in scales : it is not one weight, considered in itself, which determines whether the scale shall ascend or descend; but this depends upon the pro- portion which that one weight hath to the other. It being thus manifest that tlie influence which benevo- lence has upon our actions, and how fai' it goes towards forming our character, is not determined by the degree itself of this principle in our mind ; but by the proportion it has to self-love and other principles : a comparison also being made in the text between self-love and the love of our neighbour ; these joint considerations aftbrded sufficient occasion for treating here of that proportion : it plainly is implied in the precept, though it should be questioned, whether it be the exact meaning of the words, as thyself. Love of our neighbour, then, must bear some proportion to self-love, and virtue to be sure consists in the due pro- portion. Wliat this due proportion is, whether as a prin- ciple in the mind, or as exerted in actions, can be judged of only from our nature and condition in this world. Of the degi^ee in which affections and the principles of action, considered in themselves, prevail, we have no measure : let us, then, proceed to the course of behaviour, the actions they produce. Both our nature and condition require, that each pai- ticular man should make particular provision for himself* 504 VVO^ THE LOVE uF [SEJl. XII and the inquiry, what proportion benevolence should have to self-love, when brought down to practice, will be, what is a competent care and provision for ourselves. And how certain soever it be, that each man must determine this for himself: and how ridiculous soever it would be, for any to attempt to determine it for another ; yet it is to be observed, that the proportion is real; and that a competent provision has a bound ; and that it cannot be all which we can possibly get and keep within our grasp, without legal injustice. Mankind almost universally bring in vanity, supplies for what is called a life of pleasure, covetousness, or imaginary notions of superiority over others, to deter- mine this question : but eveiy one who desires to act a proper part in society, would do well to consider, how far any of them come in to determine it, in the way of morai consideration. All that can be said is, supposing, what, as the world goes, is so much to be supposed that is scarce to be mentioned, that persons do not neglect what they really owe to themselves ; the more of their care and thought, and of their fortune, they employ in doing good to their fellow-creatures, the nearer they come up to the law of perfection. Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself. Thirdly, if the words, as thyself, v.'ere to be understood of an equality of affection ; it would not be attended witii those consequences, which perhaps may be thought to follow from it. Suppose a person to have the same settled regard to others, as to himself; that in every deliberate scheme or pursuit he took their interest into the account in the same degree as his own, so far as an equality of affection would produce this; yet he would in fact, and ought to be, much more taken up and employed about himself, and his own concerns, than about others, and tlieir interests. For, besides the one common affection towards himself and his neighbour, he would have several otlier I)articular affections, passions, appetites, which he could not possibly feel in common both for himself and others : now these sensations themselves very much employ us ; and have perhaps as great influence as self love. So far indeed as self-love, and cool reflection upon what is for our in- terest, would set us oa work to gain a supply of our own several wants ; so far the love of our neighbour would make us do the same fDr him : but the degree in wliich we SER. Xn.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 505 are put upon seeking and making use of the means of gratification, by the feehng of tliose affections, appetites, and passions, must necessarily be peculiar to ourselves. That there are particular passions (suppose shame, re- sentment,) which men seem to have, and feel in common, both for themselves and others, makes no alteration in respect to those passions and appetites which cannot possibly be thus felt in common. From hence (and per- haps more things of the like kind might be mentioned) it follows, that though tliere were an equality of affection to both, yet regard to ourselves would be more prevalent than attention to the concerns of others ^ And from moral considerations it ought to be so, sup- posing still the equality of affection commanded : because we are in a peculiar manner, as I may speak, intrusted with ourselves ; and therefore care of our own interests, as well as of our conduct, particularly belongs to us. To these things must be added, that moral obligations can extend no further than to natural possibilities. Now we have a perception of our own interests, like conscious- ness of our own existence, which we always carry about with us ; and which, in its continuation, kind, and degi'ee, seems impossible to be felt in respect to tlie interests of others. From all these things it fully appears, that though we were to love our neighbour in the same degi'ee as we love ourselves, so far as this is possible ; yet the care of our- selves, of the individual, would not be neglected ; the apprehended danger of which seems to be the only objec- tion against understanding the precept in this strict sense. III. The general temper of mind which the due love of our neighbour would form us to, and the influence it would have upon our behaviour in life, is now to be considered. The temper and behaviour of charity is explained at large, in that known passage of St. Paul ' : Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, heareth all ^ If we were to seek our neighbour's interest and happiness as actively as our own, still there would be no danger of our neglecting our own ; for wa have other motivei which would coB:e in and guard against this consequence. 2 1 Cor. xiii. 506 UPON THE LOTE OF [sER. XT! things, beUeveth all tilings, hopeth all things. As to the mean- ing of the expressions, seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, helieveth all things; however those expressions may be ex- plained away, this meekness, and in some degree easiness of temper, readiness to forego our right for the sake of peace, as well as in tlie way of compassion, freedom from mistrust, and disposition to believe well of oiu: neighbour, thif: general temper, I say, accompanies, and is plainly the effect of love and good-will. And, though such is the world in which we live, that experience and knowledge of it not only may, but must beget in us greater regard to ourselves, and doubtfulness of the characters of others, tlian is natural to mankind ; yet these ought not to be carried fm-ther tlian the nature and course of ^ings make necessary. It is still true, even in the present state of things, bad as it is, that a real good man had rather be deceived, than be suspicious ; had rather forego his known right, than run the venture of doing even a hard thing. This is the general temper of that charity, of which the Apostle asserts, that if he had it not, giving his body to he burned would avail him nothing ; and which he says shall never fail. The happy influence of this temper extends to every different relation and circumstance in human life. It plainly renders a man better, more to be desired, as to all the respects and relations we can stand in to each other. The benevolent man is disposed to make use of all external advantages in such a manner as shall contribute to the good of others, as well as to his oym satisfaction. His o^^^l satisfaction consists in this. He will be easy and kind to his dependents, compassionate to the poor and distressed, friendly to all with whom he has to do. This includes the good neighbour, parent, master, magisti'ate: and such a behaviom- would plainly make dependence, inferiority, and even servitude, easy. So that a good or charitable man of superior rank in wisdom, fortune, authority, is a common blessing to the place he lives in : happiness grows under his influence. This good principle in inferiors would dis- eover itself in paying respect, gi-atitude, obedience, as due. It were therefore, methinks, one just way of trying one's own character, to ask ourselves, am I in reality a bettei master or servant, a better friend, a better neighbour, tliaii Buch and such persons; whom, perhaps, I may think no; 6ER. XU.J OUR NEIGHBOUR, 507 to deserve the character of virtue and religion so much as myself? And as to the spirit of party, which unhappily prevails amongst mankind, whatever are the distinctions which serve for a supply to it, some or other of which have ob- tained in all ages and countries : one who is thus friendly to his kind will immediately make due allowances for it, as what cannot but be amongst such creatures as men, in such a world as this. And as wrath and fuj:y and overbearing upon these occasions proceed, as I may speak, from men's feeling only on their own side : so a common feeling, for others as well as for ourselves, would render us sensible to this truth, which it is strange can have so little influence ; that we ourselves differ from others, just as much as they do from us. I put the matter in this way, because it can scarce be expected that the generality of men should see, that those things which ai'e made the occasions of dissen- sion and fomenting the party-spirit, are really nothing at all: but it may be expected from all people, how much soever they are in earnest about their respective pecu- liarities, that humanity, and common good-will to their fellow-creatures, should moderate and restrain that wretched spirit. This good temper of charity likewise would prevent strife and enmity arising from other occasions : it would prevent our giving just cause of offence, and our taking it without cause. And in cases of real injury, a good man will make all tlie allowances which are to be made ; and, without any attempts of retaliation, he will only consult his own and other men's security for the futm-e, against mjustice and wrong. IV. I proceed to consider lastly, what is affirmed of the precept now explained, that it comprehends in it all others ; i. e., that to love our neighbour as ourselves includes in it all virtues. Now the way in which every maxim of conduct, or general speculative assertion, when it is to be explained at large, should be treated, is, to show what are the par- ticular truths which were designed to be comprehended under such a general observation, how far it is strictly true ; and then the limitations, restrictions, and exceptions, if there be exceptions, with which it is to be understood. 508 UPON IHE LOVE OF [SEII. XII But it is only the former of these ; namely, how far the assertion in the text holds, and the ground of tlie pre- eminence assigned to the precept of it, which in strictness comes into our present consideration. However, in almost everything that is said, there is somewhat to be understood beyond what is explicitly laid down, and w^hich we of course supply ; somewhat, I mean, which would not be commonly called a restriction, or limitation. Thus, when benevolence is said to be the sum of virtue, it is not spoken of as a blind propension, but as a principle in reasonable creatures, and so to be directed by their reason : for reason and reflection come into our notion of a moral agent. And that will lead us to consider distant consequences, as well as the immediate tendency of an action : it will teach us, that the care of some persons, suppose children and families, is particularly committed to our charge by Nature and Providence ; as also that there are other circumstances, suppose friendship or former obligations, which require that we do good to some preferably to others. Reason, considered merely as subservient to benevolence, as assisting to produce the greatest good, will teach us to have particular regard to these relations and circumstances ; because it is plainly for the good of the world that they should be regarded. And as there are numberless cases, in which, notwithstanding appearances, we are not competent judges, whether a par ticular action will upon the whole do good or harm ; reason in the same way will teach us to be cautious how we act in these cases of uncertainty. It will suggest to our con- sideration, which is the safer side ; how liable we ai'e to be led wrong by passion and private interest ; and what regard is due to laws, and the judgment of mankind. All these things must come into consideration, were it only in order to determine which way of acting is likely to produce the greatest good. Thus, upon supposition that it were in the strictest sense true, without limitation, that benevolence includes in it all virtues ; yet reason must come in as its guide and director, in order to attain its own end, the end of benevolence, the greatest public good. Reason, then, being thus included, let us now consider the ti'uth of tha assertion itself First. It is manifest that nothing can be of consequ3nC8 BER. XII.] OUE NEIGHBOUR 509'' to mankind or an}- creature, but happiness. This, tlien, is all which any person can, in strictness of speaking, be said to have a right to. We can therefore owe no man anythiny, but only to further and promote his happiness, according to our abilities. And therefore a disposition and endeavoui* to do good to all with whom we have to do, in the degree and manner which the different relations we stand in to them require, is a discharge of all the obligations we are under to tliem. As human nature is not one simple uniform thing, but a composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites, par- ticular passions, and affections ; for each of which reason able self-love would lead men to have due regard, and make suitable provision : so society consists of various parts, to which we stand in different respects and relations ; and just benevolence would as surely lead us to have due regard to each of these, and behave as the respective relations re- quire. Reasonable good-will, and right behaviour towards our fellow-creatures, are in a manner the same : only that the former expresseth the principle as it is in the mind ; the latter, the principle as it were become external, i. e , exerted in actions. And so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation in sensual pleasures, and the contrary vices, have any respect to our fellow-creatures, any influence upon their quiet, welfare, and happiness ; as they always have a real, and often a near influence upon it ; so far it is manifest those virtues may be produced by the love of our neighbour, and that the contrary vices would be prevented by it. Indeed if men's regard to themselves will not restrain them from excess ; it may be thought little probable, that their love to others will be sufficient : but the reason is, that their love to others is not, any more than their regard to themselves, just, and in its due degi'ee. There are, however, manifest instances of persons kept sober and temperate from regard to their affairs, and the welfare of those who depend upon them. And it is obvious to every one, that habitual ex- cess, a dissolute course of life, implies a general neglect oi the duties we owe towards our friends, our families, and our country. From hence it is manifest that the common virtues, and the common vices of mankind, may be traced up to bene* : 510 UPON Till?. TOVE OF [SER, XII. volence, oi the want of it. And this entitles the precept, Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself, to the pre-eminence given to it ; and is a justification of die Apostle's assertion, that all other commandments are comprehended in it; whatever cautions and restrictions ^ there are, which might require to be considered, if we were to state particulai'ly and at length, what is vhtue and right behaviour in man- kind. But, Secondly. It might be added, that in a higher and more general way of consideration, leaving out the particular nature of creatures, and the particular circumstances in which they are placed, benevolence seems in the strictest sense to include in it all that is good and worthy ; all that is good, which we have any distinct particular notion of. We have no clear conception of any positive moral attribute in the supreme Being, but what may be resolved up into goodness. And, if we consider a reasonable creatiu-e of ' For instance : as we are not competent judges, what is upon the whole for the good of the world, there may be other immediate ends appointed us to pursue, besides that one of doing good, or producing happiness. Though the good of the creation be the only end of the Author of it, yet he may have laid us under particular obligations, which we may discern and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a perception, that the observance or violation of them is for the happiness or misery of our fellow-creaturea. And this is in fact the case. For there are certain dispositions of mind, and certain actions, which are in themselves approved or disapproved by man- kind, abstracted from the consideration of their tendency to the happiness or misery of the world ; approved or disapproved by reflection, by that prin- ciple within, which is the guide of life, the judge of right and wrong. Numberless instances of this kind might be mentioned. There are pieces of treachery, which in themselves appear base and detestable to every one. There are actions, which perhaps can scarce have any other general name given them, than indecencies, which yet are odious and shocking to human nature. There is such a thing as jneanness, a little mind; which, as it is quite distinct from incapacity, so it raises a dislike and disapprobation quite diflferent from that contempt, which men are too apt to have, of mere folly On the other hand ; what we call greatness of mind is the object of another sort of approbation, than superior understanding. Fidelity, honour, strict justice, are themselves approved in the highest degree, abstracted from the consideration of their tendency. Now, whether it be thought that each of these are connected with benevolence in our nature, and so may be con- sidered as the same thing with it; or whether some of them be thought an inferior kind of virtues and vices, somewhat like natural beauties and de- formities ; or lastly, plain exceptions to the general rule; thus much, how- ever, is certain, that the things now instanced in, and numberless others, are approved or disapproved by mankind in general, in quite another view taau as conducive to the happiness or misery of tne world. 8ER. Xn.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 611 moral agent, without regard to the particular relations and circumstances in which he is placed ; we cannot conceive anything else to come in towards detemiining whether he is to be ranked in a higher or lower class of virtuous beings, but the higher or lower degree in which that principle, and what is manifestly connected with it, prevail in him. That which we more strictly call piety, or the love of God, and which is an essential part of a right temper, some may perhaps imagine no way connected with benevo lence : yet surely tliey must be connected, if there be indeed in being an object infinitely good. Human nature is so constituted, that every good affection implies the love of itself; i. e., becomes the object of a new affection in the same person ^ Thus, to be righteous, implies in it the love of righteousness ; to be benevolent, the love of benevolence ; to be good, the love of goodness ; whether this righteousness, benevolence, or goodness, be viewed as in our own mind, or in another's : and the love of God as a being perfectly good, is the love of perfect good- ness contemplated in a being or person. Thus morality and rehgion, virtue and piety, will at last necessarily coincide, run up into one and the same point, and love will be in all senses the end of the commandment. Almiijhty God, inspire us with this divine principle; kill in us all the seeds of envy and ill-will; and help us, by cultivatiny within ourselves the love of our neighbour, to improve in the love of thee. Thou hast placed in u^ various kindreds, friendships, and relations, as the school of discipline for our affections: help tis, by the due exercise of them, to improve to perfection; till all partial affection be lost in that entire universal one, and thou, God, shalt be all in all. ' This is, of course, a necessary consequence of the nature of every moral rirtue, ?.nd of the method by which it is attained. It is by a constant re- petition of acts, each one of which becomes mare pleasurable the more we become habituated to its practice. See also tht next Sermon, p. 513.— £. '* Thou shalt love the Lord thy God witn all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind." — Matt. xxii. 37. Everybody knows, you therefore need only just be put in mind, that there is such a thing, as having so gi'eat horror of one extreme, as to run insensibly and of course into the contraiy; and that a doctrine's having been a shelter for enthusiasm, or made to serve the purposes of superstition, is no proof of the falsity of it : truth or right being somewhat real in itself, and so not to be judged of by its liableness to abuse, or by its supposed distance from or nearness to eiTor. It may be sufhcient to have men- tioned this in general, without taking notice of the particular extravagances, which have been vented under the pretence or endeavoiu" of explaining the love of God ; or how mani- festly we are got in to the contrary extreme, under the notion of a reasonable religion ; so very reasonable, as to have nothing to do with the heart and affections, if these words signify anything but the faculty by which we discern speculative truth. By tlie love of God, I would understand all tliose regards, all those affections of mind which are due immediately to him from such a creature as man, and which rest in him as their end. As this does not include senile fear; so neither will any other regards, how reasonable soever, which respect anything out of or besides the perfection of divine nature, come into consideration here. But all fear is not excluded, because, his displeasure is itself the natural proper object of fear ^ Reverence, ambition of his love and approbation, delight in the hope or consciousness of it, come likewise into this definition of the love of God; because he is the natural object of all those affections or movements of mind, as really as he is the object of the affec- tion, which is in the strictest sense called love ; and all of tliem equally rest in him, as tlieir end. And they may all ' There is of course a sense in which " perfect love casteth out fear. Under the old law it was the fear, rather than the love, of God, which wa» ur^ed as a duty on the Israelites ; yet was not the love of God excluded. And just so iiudt-r the new law, when we are bidden to love God, a right and proper fear cf him is to be understood as included. — Ed. BEB Xlll.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 513 be understood to be implied in these words of our Saviour, without putting any force upon them : for he is speaking of the love of God and our neighbour, as containing the whole of piety and virtue. It is plain that the nature of man is so constituted, as to feel certain affections upon the sight or contemplation of certain objects. Now the very notion of affection imphes resting in its object as an end. And the particular affection to good characters, reverence and moral love of them, is natural to all tliose who have any degree of real goodness in themselves. This will be illustrated by the description of a perfect character in a creature ; and b} considering the manner, in which a good man in his presence would be affected towards such a character. He would of course feel the affections of love, reverence, desire of his approbation, delight in the hope or consciousness of it. And surely all this is applicable, and may be brought up to that Being, who is infinitely more than an adequate object of all those affections : whom we are commanded ix) love with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind. And of these regards towai'ds Almighty God, some are more particulai'ly suitable to and becoming so imperfect a creature as man, in this mortal state we are passing through; and some of them, and perhaps other exercises of the mind, will be the employment and happiness of good men in a state of perfection. This is a general view of what the following discourse will contain. And it is manifest the subject is a real one : there is nothing in it enthusiastical or unreasonable And if it be indeed at all a subject, it is one of the utmost importance. As mankind have a faculty by whidh they discern speculative truth; so we have various affections towards external objects. Understanding and temper, reason and affection, are as distinct ideas, as reason and hunger ; and one would think could no more be confounded. It is by reason that we get the ideas of several objects of our affec- tions : but in these cases reason and affection are no more the same, than sight of a particular object, and the pleasure or uneasiness consequent thereupon, are the same. Now, as reason tends to and rests in tlie discernment of truth, •ihQ object of it ; so the verj' nature of affection consists m 514 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. fsER. XIIL tending towards, and resting in, its objects as an end. W« do indeed often in common language say, that things are loved, desired, esteemed, not for themselves, but for s( me- what further, somewhat out of and beyond them : yet, in these cases, whoever will attend, will see, that these things are not in reality the objects of the affections, i. e., are not loved, desired, esteemed, but the somewhat further and beyond them. If we have no affections which rest in what are called their objects, then what is called affection, love, desire, hope, in human nature, is only an uneasiness in being at rest ; an unquiet disposition to action, progress, pursuit, without end or meaning. But if there be any such thing as delight in the company of one person, rather tlian of another ; whether in the way of friendship, or mirth and entertainment, it is all one, if it be without respect to fortune, honour, or increasing our stores of knowledge, or anything beyond the present time ; here is an instance of an affection absolutely resting in its objects as its end, and being gratified in the same way as the appetite of hunger is satisfied with food. Yet nothing is more common than to hear it asked, what advantage a man hath in such a course, suppose of study, particular Mendships, or in any other: nothing, I say, is more common than to hear such a ques- tion put in a way which supposes no gain, advantage, or interest, but as a means to somewhat turther : and if so, then there is no such thing at all as real interest, gain, or advantage. This is the same absurdity with respect to life, as infinite series of effects without a cause is in speculation The gain, advantage, or interest, consists in the delight itself, arising from such a faculty's having its object: neither is there any such thing as happiness or enjo^inent, but what arises from hence. The pleasures of hope and of reflection are not exceptions : the former being only tliis happiness anticipated; the latter, tlie same happiness en- joyed over again after its time. And even the general ex- pectation of future happiness can afford satisfaction, only as it is a present object to the principle of self-love. It was doubtlnss intended, that life should be very much a pursuit to the gross of mankind. But this is earned so much further than is reasonable, that what gives immediate satisfaction, i. e., our present interest, is scarce considered as our interest at all. It is inventions, which have only • EER XIII.] UPON THE LOVE OF 000. 515 remote tendency towards enjoyment, perhaps but a remote tendency towards gaining the means only of enjoyment, which are chiefly spoken of as useful to tlie world. And though this way of thinking were just with respect to the imperfect state we are now in, where we know so little ot satisfaction without satiety ; yet it must be guarded against, when we are considering the happiness of a state of per fection ; which happiness being enjoyment and not hope, must necessarily consist in this, that our affections have their objects, and rest in those objects as an end, i. e., be satisfied wiih them. This will fm-ther appear in the seque] of this discourse. Of the several affections, or inward sensations, which particular objects excite in man, there are some, the having of which implies the love of them, when they are reflected upon ^ This cannot be said of all oiu" affections, principles, and motives of action. It were ridiculous to assert, that a man upon reflection hath the same kind of approbation of the appetite of hunger, or the passion of fear, as he hath of good-will to his fellow-creatures. To be a just, a good, a righteous man, plainly carries with it a peculiar affection to or love of justice, goodness, righteousness, when these principles are the objects of contemplation. Now if a man approves of, or hath an aff"ection to, any principle in and for itself, incidental things allowed for, it will be the same whether he views it in his own mind, or in another; in himself, or in his neighbour. This is the account of our approbation of, our moral love and aff'ection to good cha- racters ; which cannot but be in those who have any degrees of real goodness in themselves, and who discern and take notice of the same principle in others. From observation of what passes within ourselves, our own actions, and the behaviour of others, the mind may carry on its reflections as far as it pleases ; much beyord what we experience in ourselves, or discern in our fellow- creatures. It may go on, and consider goodness as become ' St. Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate amandus est, quo bene araatur quod amandum est, ut sit in nobis virtus qui vivitur bene, i. e.. The affection which we rightly have for what is lovely, must ordinate ^^wtt^, in due manner and proportion, become the object of a new affection, or M itself beloved, in order to our being endued with thai virtue which w t/tf fi-incifle of a good '«-fe. Civ. Dei. 1. xv. c. 22. L L 2 5 16 UtON THE LOVE OF GOD. [sER. XIU. a unifonn continued principle of action, as conducted by reason, and forming a temper and character absolutely good and perfect, which is in a higher sense excellent, and pro- portionably the object of love and approbation. Let us, then, suppose a creature perfect according to his cr^Ated nature ; let his form be human, and his capacities no knore than equal to those of the chief of men : goodness shall be his proper character ; with wisdom to direct it, and power within some certain determined sphere of action to exert it ; but goodness must be the simple actuating prui- ciple within him; this being the moral quality which is amiable, or the immediate object of love as distinct from other affections of approbation. Here, then, is a finite object for our mind to tend towards, to exercise itself upon : a creature, perfect according to his capacity, fixed, steady, equally unmoved by weak pity or more weak fury and re- sentment ; forming the justest scheme of conduct ; going on undisturbed in the execution of it, through the several methods of severity and reward, towards his end, namely, the general happiness of all with whom he hath to do, as in itself right and valuable. This character, though unifonn in itself, in its principle, yet exerting itself in different ways, or considered in different views, may by its appeai-ing variety move different affections. Thus, the severity of iustice would not affect us in the same way as an act of mercy : the adventitious qualities of wisdom and power may be considered in themselves : and even the strength of mind, which this immovable goodness supposes, may like- wise be viewed as an object of contemplation, distinct from the goodness itself Superior excellence of any kind, as well as superior wisdom and power, is the object of awe and reverence to all creatures, whatever their moral character be : but so far as creatures of the lowest rank were good, so far the view of this character, as simply good, must appear amiable to them, be the object of, or beget love. Fm'£her, suppose we were conscious, tliat this superior person so far approved of us, that we had nothing servilely to feai- from him ; that he was really om- friend, and kind and gDod to us in particular, as he had occasionally intercourse with as : we must be otlier creatures than we ai-e, or we could not but feel the same kind of satisfaction and enjoyment ^whatever would be the degree of it) from tliis higher ac- BER. XTII.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. Bl"? quaintance and friendship, as we feel from common ones ; the intercom-se being real, and the persons equally present, in both cases. We should have a more ardent desire to be approved by his better judgment, and a satisfaction in that approbation of tlie same sort with what would be felt in respect to common persons, or be wrought in us by their presence. Let us now raise the character, and suppose this creature, for we are still going on with the supposition of a creature, om' proper guardian and governor ; that we were in a pro- gress of being towards somewhat further; and that his scheme of government was too vast for our capacities to comprehend : remembering still that he is perfectly good, and om' friend as well as om' governor. Wisdom, power, goodness, accidentally viewed anywhere, would inspire reverence, awe, love: and as these affections would be raised in higher or lower degrees, in proportion as we had occasionally more or less intercourse with the creature endued with those qualities ; so this further consideration and knowledge, that he was our proper guardian and governor, would much more bring these objects and qualities home to ourselves ; teach us they had a greater respect to us in particular, that we had a higher interest in that wisdom and power and goodness. We should, with joy, gi-atitude, reverence, love, trust, and dependence, ap- propriate the character, as what we had a right in; and make our boast in such our relation to it. And the conclu- sion of the whole would be, that we should refer ourselves implicitly to him, and cast ourselves entirely upon him. As tlie whole attention of life should be to obey his commands ; so the highest enjoyment of it must arise from tlie contemplation of this character, and our relation to it, from a consciousness of his favour and approbation, and from the exercise of those affections towai'ds him which could not but be raised from his presence. A Being who hath these attributes, who stands in this relation, and is thus sensibly present to the mind, must necessarily be the object of these affections : there is as real a correspondence t>etween them, as between the lowest appetite of sensa and its object. That tliis being is not a creature, but the Almighty God ; Ihat he is of innnite power and wisdom and goodness, does 618 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SER. XITI* not render him less the object of reverence and love, ihan he would be if he had those attiibutes only in a limited degi'ee. The Being \vho made us, and upon whom we entirely depend, is the object of some regards. He hath given us certain affections of mind, which correspond to wisdom, power, goodness ; i. e., which are raised upon view of those qualities. If then he be really wise, powerful, good ; he is the natm^al object of those affections, which he has endued us with, and which correspond to those attri- butes. That he is infinite in power, perfect in wisdom and goodness, makes no alteration, but only that he is the object of those affections raised to the highest pitch. He is not indeed to be discerned by any of our senses. I go forward, hut he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him : on the left hand where he doth work, hut I cannot behold him : he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him. that I knew where I might find him ! that I might come eveyi to his seat ' ! But is he then afar off ? does he not fill heaven and earth with his presence ? The presence of our feUow-creatm-es affects our senses, and our senses give us the knowledge of their presence ; which hath different kinds of influence upon us ; love, joy, sorrow, restraint, encouragement, reverence. However, this influence is not immediately from our senses, but from that knowledge. Thus, suppose a person neither to see nor hear anotlier, not to know by any of his senses, but yet certainly to know, that another was with him ; this knowledge might, and in many cases would, have one or more of the eflects before mentioned. It is therefore not only reasonable, but also natural, to be affected with a presence, though it be not the object of our senses : whetlier it be, or be not, is merely an accidental circumstance, which needs not come mto consideration : it is tlie certainty that he is with us, and we with him, which hath the influence. We consider persons then as present, not only when they ai*e within reach of our senses, but also when we ai'e assured by any other means that tliey ai'e within such a nearness ; nay, if tliey ai'e not, we can recall them to our mind, and be moved tow.iids them as present: and must he, who is so much more intimately with us, tliat in him we live and move and luive our being, be thought too distant to be the object c/ 1 Jub xxiiL gER XIII. j UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 5]^ GUI' affections ? We own and feel the force of amiable and worthy qualities in our fellow-creatures: and can we bo insensible to the contemplation of perfect goodness ? Do we reverence the shadows of greatness here below, are we solicitous about honour and esteem and the opinion of the world : and shall we not feel the same with respect to him, whose are wisdom and power in their original, who is the God of judgment by whom actions are weighed ? Thus love, reverence, desire of esteem, every faculty, every affection, tends towards, and is employed about its respective object in common cases : and must the exercise of them be suspended with regard to him alone, who is an object, an infinitely more than adequate object, to our most exalted faculties ; him, of whom, and through whom, and to whom are all things ? As we cannot remove from this earth, or change our general business on it, so neither can we alter our real nature. Therefore no exercise of the mind can be recom- mended, but only the exercise of those faculties you are conscious of. Eeligion does not demand new affections, but only claims the direction of those you already have, those affections you daily feel ; though imhappily confined to objects, not altogether unsuitable, but altogether unequal to them. We only represent to you the higher, the ade- quate objects of those very faculties and affections. Let the man of ambition go on still to consider disgrace as the greatest evil ; honour, as his chief good. But disgrace, in whose estimation ? Honour, in whose judgment ? This is the only question. K shame, and delight in esteem, be spoken of as real, as any settled ground of pain or pleasure; both these must be in proportion to the supposed wisdom and worth of him, by whom we are contemned or esteemed. Must it, then, be thought enthusiastical to speak of a sensibility of this sort, which shall have respect to an unerring judgment, to infinite wisdom; when we are assured this unerring judgment, this infinite wisdom, does observe upon our actions ? It is the same with respect to the love of God in the strictest and most confined sense. We only offer and re- present the highest object of an affection, supposed already in your mind. Some degree of goodness must be previously supposed : this always implies the love of itself, an affectiou 5/iOs UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. pSER. XIII. to goodness : the highest, the adequate object of this aiftc- tion, is perfect goodness ; which therefore we ai'e to love with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our strength, " Must we, then, forgetting our own interest, as it were go out of ourselves, and love God for his . wn sake?" No more forget your own interest, no more go out of your- selves, than when you prefer one place, one prospect, the conversation of one man to that of another. Does not ever}' affection necessarily imply, that the object of it be itself loved? If it be not, it is not the object of the af- fection. You may and ought if you can, but it is a great mistake to think you can love or fear or hate anything, from consideration that such love or fear or hatred may be a means of obtaining g6od or avoiding evil. But the question, whether we ought to love God for his sake or for our own, being a mere mistake in language ; the real question, which this is mistaken for, will, I suppose, be answered by observing, that the goodness of God already exercised towards us, our present dependence upon him, and our expectation of futm^e benefits, ought, and have a natm^al tendency, to beget in us the aflfection of gratitude, and greater love towards him, than tlie same goodness exercised towar-ds others : were it only for tliis reason, that every affection is moved in proportion to the sense we have of the object of it ; and we cannot but have a more lively sense of goodness, when exercised towai'ds om-selves, than when exercised towards others. I added expectation of future benefits, because the gi'ound of that expectation is present goodness. Thus Almighty God is the natural object of the several affections, love, reverence, fear, desire of approbation. For though he is simply one, yet we cannot but consider him in partial and different views. He is in himself one miiform being, and for ever the same without variableness or shadow of turning: but his infinite greatness, his goodness, his wisdom, are different objects to om- mind. To which is to be added, that from tlie changes in our characters, together with his unchangeableness, we cannot but consider ourselves as more or less the objects of his approbation, and really be BO. For if he approves what is good, he cannot, merely from the unchangeableness of his nature, approve what is evjL. Hence must aiise moi-e vaiious m vements of mind. 8ER. XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 521 more different kinds of affections. And this greater variety also is just and reasonable in such creatures as we are, though it respects a Being simply one, good and perfect. As some of these affections are most particularly suitable to so imperfect a creatm'e as man, in this mortal state we are passing through ; so there may be other exercises of mind, or some of these in higher degrees, our employment and happiness in a state of perfection. Sermon XIV . Consider, then, our ignorance, the imperfection of our na ture, our virtue and our condition in this world, with respect to an infinitely good and just Being, our Creator and Governor: and you will see what religious affections of mind ai'e most particularly suitable to this mortal state we are passing through. Though we are not affected with anything so strongly, as what we discern -svith our senses ; and though our nature and condition require that we be much taken up about sensible things ; yet our reason convinces us that God is present with us, and we see and feel the effects of his goodness : he is therefore the object of some regards. The imperfection of our virtue, joined with the consideration of his absolute rectitude or holiness, will scarce permit that perfection of love, which entu-ely casts out all fear: yet goodness is the object of love to all creatm-es who have any degree of it themselves ; and consciousness of a real endea vour to approve ourselves to him, joined with the consider ation of his goodness, as it quite excludes servile dread and horror, so it is plainly a reasonable gi'ound for hope of his favour. Neither fear, nor hope, nor love then are excluded : and one or another of these will prevail, according to the different views we have of God ; and ought to prevail, ac- cording to the changes we find in our own character*. There is a temper of mind made up of, or which follows ' Thus, in the Old Testament, we are bidden to '^ fear God and keep hia commandments ; for this is the whole duty of man." In the New Testa- ment, the first and great commandment is stated thus by our Lord, " Thou ehalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul." And this is the necessary result of the different character and relation andttt which God is revealed to us under either dispensation." — EdU 5f^5 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. fsEB. XIV from all three, fear, hope, love ; namely, resignation to the divine will, which is the general temper belonging to this state ; which ought to be the habitual frame of our mind and heart, and to be exercised at proper seasons more dis tinctly in acts of devotion. Resignation to the will of God is the whole of piety : it includes in it all that is good, and is a source of the most settled quiet and composure of mind K There is the general principle of submission in our nature. Man is not so con- stituted as to desire things, and be uneasy in the want of them, in proportion to their known vedue: many other considerations come in to determine the degrees of desire ; particularly -i^^iether the advantage we take a view of be within the sphere of our rank. Who ever felt uneasiness, upon observing any of the advantages brute creatures have over us ? And yet it is plain they have several. It is the same with respect to advantages belonging to creatures of a superior order. Thus, though we see a thing to be highly valuable, yet that it does not belong to our condition of being, is sufficient to suspend our desires after it, to make us rest satisfied without such advantage. Now there is just the same reason for quiet resignation in the want of every- thing equally unattainable, and out of our reach in particu- lar, though others of our species be possessed of it. All this may be applied to the whole of life ; to positive incon- veniences as well as wants ; not indeed to the sensations of pain and sorrow, but to all the uneasinesses of reflection, murmuring, and discontent. Thus is human nature formed to compliance, yielding, submission of temper. We find the principles of it within us ; and every one exercises it towards some objects or other; i. e., feels it with regard to some persons, and some circumstances. Now this is an excellent foundation of a reasonable and religious resigna- tion. Nature teaches and inclines us to take up with our lot : the consideration, tliat the course of things is unalter- able, hath a tendency to quiet the mind under it, to beget n submission of temper to it. But when we can add, that Jiis unalterable course is appointed and continued by in- ' This " resifj^nation " is not the mere philosophic apathy of the Epicurean, but the result of having brought our own wills into conformity with the wili of iJod. See this drawn out helcw. — £d. 8EK. XIV.] TJPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 523 finite wisdom and goodness ; how absolute should be oui submission, how entire our trust and dependence ! This would reconcile us to our condition: prevent all the supernumerary troubles arising from imagination, dis- tant feai's, impatience; all uneasiness, except that which necessarily arises from the calamities themselves we may be under. How many of our cares should we by this means be disburdened of! Cares not properly our own, how apt soever tliey may be to intrude upon us, and we to admit them ; the anxieties of expectation, solicitude about success and disappointment, which in truth are none of our concern. How open to every gratification would that mind be, which was clear of these encumbrances ! Our resignation to the will of God may be said to be perfect, when our will is lost and resolved up into his ; when we rest in his will as our end, as being itself most just, and right, and good. And where is the impossibility of such an affection to what is just, and right, and good, such a loyalty of heart to the Governor of the universe, as shall prevail over all sinister indirect desires of our own ? Neither is this at bottom anything more than faith, and honesty, and fairness of mind ; in a more enlarged sense indeed, than those words are commonly used. And as in common cases, fear and hope and other passions are raised in us by their respective objects : so ihis submission of heart and soul and mind, this religious resignation, would be as natm-ally produced by our having just conceptions of Almighty God, and a real sense of his presence with us. In how low a degree soever this temper usually prevails amongst men, yet it is a temper right in itself: it is what we owe to our Creator: it is particularly suitable to our mortal condition, and what we should endeavour after for our own sakes in our passage through such a world as this ; where is nothing upon which we can rest or depend ; nothing but what we are liable to be deceived and disappointed in. Thus we might acquaint ourselves with God, and be at peace. This is piety and religion in the strictest sense, considered as an habit of mind ; an habitual sense of God's presence with us : being affected towards him, as present, in the manner his superior nature requires from such a creature as man : this is to walk with God. Little more need be said of devotion or religious worship^ 5Si UPON THE LOVE OF GOD [SER. XlV. tlian that it is this temper exerted into act. The nature of it consists in the actual exercise of those affections towards God, which are supposed habitual in good men. He is always equally present with us : but we are so much taken up with sensible things, that Lo, he goeth by us, and we see him not: he passeth on also, but we perceive him not^. Devo- tion is retirement, from the world he has made, to him alone : it is to withdraw from the avocations of sense, to employ our attention wholly upon him as upon an object actually present, to yield om^selves up to the influence of the divine presence, and to give fall scope to the affections of gratitude, love, reverence, trust, and dependence; of which infinite power, wisdom, and goodness, is the natural and only adequate object. We may apply to the whole of devotion those words of the son of Sirach, When you glorify the Lord, exalt him as much as you can ; for even yet will he far exceed; and when you exalt him, put forth all your strength, and he not weary ; for you can never go far enough ~. Our most raised affections of eveiy kind cannot but fall short and be disproportionate, when an infinite Being is the object of them. This is the highest exercise and employ- ment of mind that a creature is capable of. As this divine service and worship is itself absolutely due to God ^, so also is it necessary in order to a further end, to keep alive upon our minds a sense of his authority, a sense that in our ordinaiy behaviour amongst men we act under him as our* governor and judge. Thus you see the temper of mind respecting God, which is particularly suitable to a state of imperfection ; to creatures in a progress of being towards somewhat furtlier. Suppose now this something further attained ; tliat we were aiTived at it : what a perception will it be, to see and know and feel that our tinist was not vain, our dependence not groundless? that the issue, event, and consummation came out such as fully to justify and answer that resigna- tion ? If the obscure view of the divine perfection, which we have in this world, ought in just consequence to beget an entire resignation ; what will this resignation be exalted ' Job. ix. 11. 2 Ecclus. xHii. 30. ^ Service and worship, as here is implied, are no mere positive duties, but moral ones; and they flow directly from the revealed relttion of i^d tourardi iu — Ed. SEE. XIV. I UPON IHE LOVE OF GOD. 525 into, Avhen we shall see face to face, and knoiv as we are known ? If we cannot form any distinct notion of that perfection of the love of God, which casts out all fear ; of tliat enjoyment of him, which will be the happiness of good men hereafter ; the consideration of our wants and capacities of happiness, and that he will be an adequate supply to them, must serve us instead of such distinct conception of the particular happiness itself. Let us, then, suppose a man entirely disengaged from business and pleasure, sitting down alone and at leism^e, to reflect upon himself and his own condition of being. He would immediately feel that he was by no means complete of himself, but totally insufficient for his own happiness. One may venture to affirm, tliat every man hath felt this, whether he hath again reflected upon it or not. It is feeling this deficiency, that they are unsatisfied with them- selves, which makes men look out for assistance from abroad; and which has given rise to various kinds of amusements, altogether needless any otherwise than as they sei-ve to fill up tlie blank spaces of time, and so hinder their feeling this deficiency, and being uneasy with themselves. Now, if these external things we take up with were really an adequate supply to this deficiency of human nature, if by their means our capacities and desires were all satisfied and filled up ; then it might be tnily said, that we had found out tlie proper happiness of man ; and so might sit down satisfied, and be at rest in the enjoyment of it. But if it appears, tliat the amusements, which men usually pass their time in, are so far from coming up to or answer ing our notions and desires of happiness, or good, that they are really no more than what they are commonly called, somewhat to pass away the time, i. e., somewhat which serves to turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to,, this our internal poverty and want; if they serv^e only, or chiefly, to suspend, instead of satisfying our conceptions and desu'es of happiness ; if the want remains, and we have found out little more than barely tlie means of making it less sensible ; then are we still to seek for somewhat to be an adequate supply to it. It is plain tliat there is a capacity in the nature of man, which neither riches, nor honours, nor sensual gi'atifications, nor anything in this world cau 52C UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SER. XTV perfectly flJ. up, or satisfy : there is a deeper and more essen tUd. want, than any of these things can be the supply ot Yet surely there is a possibility of somewhat, which may fill up all our capacities of happiness ; somewhat, in which our souls may find rest; somewhat, which may be to us that satisfactoiy good we are inquiring after. But it cannot be anything which is valuable only as it tends to some fiu'ther end. Those therefore who have got this world so much into their hearts, as not to be able to consider happi ness as consisting in anything but property and possessions, which are only valuable as the means to somewhat else, cannot have tiie least glimpse of the subject before us* which is the end, not the means ; the thing itself, not some- what in order to it. But if you can lay aside that general, confused, undeterminate notion of happiness, as consisting in such possessions ; and fix in your thoughts, that it really can consist in nothing but in a faculty's having its proper object; you will clearly see that in the coolest way of con- sideration, without either the heat of fanciful enthusiasm, or the warmth of real devotion, nothing is more certain, than that an infinite Being may himself be, if he please, the supply to all the capacities of our nature. All the common enjoyments of life are from the faculties he hath endued us with, and the objects h* hath made suitable to them. He may himself be to us infinitely more than all these ; he may be to us all that we want. As our under- standing can contemplate itself, and our afi'ections be ex- ercised upon themselves by reflection, so may each be employed m the same manner upon any otlier mind : and since the supreme Mind, the Author and Cause of all things, is the highest possible object to himself, he may be an adequate supply to all the faculties of our souls ; a sub- ject to our understanding, and an object to our afi'ections. Consider then : when we shall have put off this mortal body, when we shall be divested of sensual appetites, and' tliose possessions which are now the means of gi-atification shall be of no avail ; when this restless scene of business and vain pleasures, which now diverts us from ourselves, sliall be all over ; we, our proper self, shall still remain : wg Bhall stiU continue the same creatm-es we ai'e, witli wants to be supplied, and capacities of happiness. We must 6EK. XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 527 have faculties of perception, though not sensitive ones, and pleasure or uneasiness from our perceptions, as nov* we have. There are certain ideas, which we express by the words, order, harmony, proportion, beauty, the furthest remove*i from anything sensual. Now what is there in those in- tellectual images, forms, or ideas, which begets that appro- bation, love, delight, and even rapture, which is seen in some persons' faces upon having ^ose objects present to tlieir minds ? — " Mere enthusiasm ! " — Be it what it will : there ai-e objects, works of nature and of art, which all mankind have delight from, quite distinct from their affording gratification to sensual appetites; and from quite another view of them, than as being for their interest and further advantage. The faculties from which we are capable of tliese pleasures, and the pleasures themselves, are as natural, and as much to be accounted for, as any sensual appetite whatever, and the pleasure from its gratification. Words to be sure are wanting upon this subject : to say, that every- thing of gi-ace and beauty, throughout the whole of nature, everything excellent and amiable shai-ed in differently lower degrees by the whole creation, meet in the Author and Cause of all things; this is an inadequate, and perhaps improper way of speaking, of the divine natiu-e : but it is manifest that absolute rectitude, the perfection of being, must be in all senses, and in every respect, the highest object to the mind. In this world it is only the effects of wisdom, and power, and greatness, which we discern : it is not impossible, that hereafter the qualities themselves in the supreme Being may be the immediate object of contemplation ^ What amazing wonders are opened to view by late improvements ! What an object is the universe to a creatm-e, if there be a creature who can comprehend its system ! But it must be an infinitely higher exercise of the understanding, to view the scheme of it in that mind, which projected it, before ' This is a particularly happy method of enforcing what our author haa said above concerning the love of God, and it is illustrated by a very happily chosen example ; the skill of an artificer being a far more interesting object than the mere results of that skill, however perfect. Here the sight of the effects of God's skill are seen, and being seen, they cause pleasure; what &en wl*l be the delight of seeing hereafter the seciet springs of all creatica Is they jxist iu the divine mind I — Ed. 523 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SER. XIV. its foundations were laid. And surely we have meaning tc the words, when we speak of gcing further ; and viewing, not only this system in his mind, but the wisdom and in- telligence itself from whence it proceeded. The same ma^ be said of power. But since wisdom and power are not God, he is a wise, a powerful Being; the divine nature may therefore be a fmlher object to the understanding. It is nothing to observe that our senses give us but an im- perfect knowledge of things : effects themselves, if we knew them thoroughly, would give us but imperfect notions of wisdom and power ; much less of his Being, in whom they reside. I am not speaking of any fanciful notion of seeing all things in God ; but only representing to you, how much an higher object to the understanding an infinite Being himself is, than the things which he has made : and this is no more than saying, that the Creator is superior to the works of his hands. This may be illustrated by a low example. Suppose a machine, the sight of which would raise, and discoveries in its contrivance gratify, our cuiiosity : the real delight, in this case, would arise from its being the effect of skill and contrivance. This skill in the mind of the artificer would be an higher object, if we had any senses or ways to dis- cern it. For, observe, the conte^iplation of that principle, faculty, or power which produced any eft'ect, must be an higher exercise of the understanding, than the contempla- tion of the effect itself. The cause must be an higher object to the mind than the effect. But whoever considers distinctly what the light of know- ledge is, will see reason to be satisfied that it cannot bo the chief good of man : all this, as it is applicable, so it was mentioned with regard to the attribute of goodness. I say, goodness. Our being and all our enjoyments are the effects of it : just men beai' its resemblance : but how little do we know of the original, of what it is in itself? Becall what was before observed concerning the affection to moral characters ; which, in how low a degi-ee soever, yet is plainly natural to man, and the ntost excellent part of his nature : suppose this improved, as it may be improved, to any degree whatever, in the spirits of just men made perfect ; and tlicn suppose that they had a real view of that righteousness, which is 1171 everlasting righteousness; of the conformity of 6ER. XIV.] UB JN THE LOYH OF GOD 629 the divine will to the law of truth, in which the moral attri butes of God consist; of that goodness in the sovereigr. Mind, which gave birth to the imiverse : add, what will ht true of all good men hereafter, a consciousness of having an interest in what they are contemplating ; suppose them able to say, This God is our God for ever and ever : would they be any longer to seek for what was their chief happi- ness, their final good ? Could the utmost stretch of their capacities look further? Would not infinite perfect good ness be then- very end, the last end and object of their affections; beyond which they could neither have, nor desu-e; beyond which they could not form a wish or thought? Consider wherein that presence of a friend consists, which has often so strong an effect, as wholly to possess the mind, and entirely suspend all other affections and regards ; and which itself affords the highest satisfaction .and enjoyment. He is within reach of the senses. Now, as our capacities of perception improve, we shall have, perhaps by some faculty entirely new, a perception of God's presence with us in a nearer and stricter way ; since it is certain he is more intimately present with us than anything else can be. Proof of the existence and presence of any being is quite different from the immediate percep- tion, the consciousness of it. Wliat then will be the joy of heart, which his presence, and the light of his countenance, who is the life of the universe, will inspire good men with, when they shall have a sensation, that he is the sustainer of their being, that they exist in him ; when they shall feel his influence to cheer and enliven and support their frame, in a manner of which we have now no conception ? He will be in a literal sense their strength and their portion for ever. AMien we speak of things so much above our compre- hension, as the employment and happiness of a future state, doubtless it behoves us to speak with all modesty and distinist of ourselves. But the Scripture represents the happiness of that state under the notions of seeing God, seeing him as he is, knowing as we are known, and seeing face to face. These words are not general or undetermined, but express a particular determinate happiness. And I will b« boll to say, that nothing can account for> or come up t'j M K 630 DPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SER. XIT these expressions, but only this, that God himself will be an object to our faculties, that he himself will be our happi- ness ; as distinguished from the enjoyments of the present state, which seem to arise, not immediately from him, but from the objects he has adapted to give us delight. To conclude : Let us suppose a person tired with care and sorrow and the repetition of vain delights which fill up the round of life ; sensible that everything here below in its best estate is altogether vanity. Suppose him to feel that deficiency of human nature, before taken notice of; and to be convinced that God alone was the adequate supply to it. What could be more applicable to a good man in this state of mind; or better express his present wants and distant hopes, his passage through this world as a progi'ess towards a state of perfection, than the following passages in the devotions of the royal prophet ? They are plainly in an higher and more proper sense applicable to this, than they could be to anything else. / have seen an end cf all perfection. Whom have I in heaven but thee ? And there is 7ione upon earth that I desire in comparison of thee. My flesh and my heart faileth : hut God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever. Like as the hart desireth the water-brooks, so longeth my soul after thee, God. My soul is athirst for God, yea, even for the living God : when shall I come to appear before him ? How excellent is thy loving-kind- ness, God! and the children of men shall put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. They shall be satisfied with the plenteousness of thy house : and thou shalt give them drink of thy pleasures, as out of the river. For with thee is the well of life ; and in thy light shall we see light. Blessed is the man whom thou choosest, and receivest unto thee : he shall dwell in thy court, and shall be satisfied with the pleasures of thy house, even of thy holy temple. Blessed is the people, Lord, that can rejoice in thee : they shall walk in the light of thy counte- nance. Their delight shall be daily in thy name, and in thy righteousness shall they make their ooast. For thou art the glory of their strength : and in thy loving-kindness they shall be exalted. As for me, I will behold thy presence in righteousness. and when I awake up after thy likeness, I shall be satisfied with it. Thou shalt shew me the path of life ; in thy presence is tlie fulness of joy, and at thy right hand there is pleasure for ever- 5ER. XV.J UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 631 Sermon XV. — Upon the Ignorance of Man \ ** When I applied mine heart to know wisdom, and to see the business tliat is done upon the earth : then I beheld all the work of God, that a man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun : because thougli a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall not find it ; yea further, though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be able to find it." — Ecclta. viii. 16, 17. The writings of Solomon are very much taken up with reflections upon human natinre and human life ; to which he hath added, in this book, reflections upon the constitu- tion of thmgs. And it is not improbable, that the little satisfaction and the great difficulties he met with in his researches into the general constitution of natm-e, might be the occasion of his confining himself, so much as he hath done, to hfe and conduct. However, upon that joint review he expresses great ignorance of the works of God, and tlie method of his providence in the government of the world ; great labour and weariness in the search and observation he had employed himself about; and great disappointment» pain, and even vexation of mind, upon that which he had remarked of the appearances of things, and of what was going forward upon this earth. This whole review and inspection, and tlie result of it, sorrow, perplexity, a sense of his necessary ignorance, suggests various reflections to his mind. But, notwithstanding all this ignorance and dissatisfaction, there is somewhat upon which he assuredly rests and depends ; somewhat, which is the conclusion of tlie whole matter, and the only concern of man. Following this his method and train of reflection, let us consider — I. The assertion of the text, the ignorance of man ; that tlie wisest and most knowing cannot comprehend the ways and works of God : and then — II. WiiBt are the just consequences of this observation and knowledge of our own ignorance, and the reflections which it leads us to. I. The wisest and most knowing cannot comprehend the ' The reader will find the argument of this sermon forcibly applied in the Analogy, Part ii. eh, iii. ; see the note appended to the beginning of the chapter. To argue from man's ignorance, is not (as some have said) to base an argument upon a mere negation, but to ground it upon a positive fact, Butler does not argue from what man does not know, but from the i^lain j^sitive fact of his being ignorant of much of God's designs. — Ed. M M 2 C3*2 UPON THE IGNOJRANCE OF MAX. [sER. XV. works of God, the metliods and designs of his providence in the creation and government of the world Creation is absolutely and entirely out of oui' depth, and beyond the extent of our utmost reach ^ And yet it is as certain that God made the world, as it is certain that effects must have a cause. It is indeed in general no more than eifects, that the most knowing are acquainted with : for as to causes, they are as entirely in the dark as the most ignorant. What are the laws by which matter acts upon matter, but certain effects ; which some, having observed to be frequently repeated, have reduced to general iTiles? The real nature and essence of beings likewise is what we are altogether ignorant of. All these things are so entirely out of our reach, that we have not the least glimpse of them. And we know little more of ourselves, than we do of the world about us : how we were made, how our being is continued and preserved, what the faculties of our minds are, and upon what the power of exercising them depends. I am fearfully and wonderfully inade : marvellous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right well. Our own nature, and the objects we are sm-rounded with, ser\-e to raise om' curiosity ; but we are quite out of a condition of satisfying it. Every secret which is disclosed, every discovery which is made, eveiy new effect which is brought to view, seiTes to convince us of numberless more which remain concealed, and which we had before no suspicion of. And what if we were acquainted with tlie whole creation, in the same way and as thoroughly as we are with any single object in it? What would all this natural knowledge amount to? It must be a low curiosity indeed which such superficial know- ledge could satisfy. On the contraiy, would it not sei-ve to convince us of our ignorance still ; and to raise om- desire of knowing the nature of things themselves, the author, the cause, and the end of them. As to the government of the world: though from con- sideration of the final causes which come within our know- ledge; of characters, personal merit and demerit; of the ' What, after all, is physical science, even carried to its highest pitch 1 It is b-Jt a methodizing of certain facts occurring in the physical world, and the combination of them under certain heads, to which we give the name of laws of nature; and in this is to be found greater proof of man's ignoranca than of his knowledge. — Ed. feER. XV.l UPON THE IGNORANCE OF ilAN. 538 favour and disapprobation, which respectively are due aiid belong to the righteous and the wicked, and which there- fore must necessarily be in a mind which sees things as they really ai-e ; though, I say, from hence we may know somewhat concerning the designs of Providence in the government of the world, enough to enfoi'ce upon us religion and the practice of virtue : yet, since the monarchy of the universe is a dominion unlimited in extent, and everlasting in duration; the general system of d must necessarily be quite beyond our comprehension. And, since there appears such a subordination and reference of the several parts to each other, as to constitute it properly one administration or government; we cannot have a thorough knowledge of any part, without knowing the whole. This surely should convince us, that we are much less competent judges of the very small part which comes under om- notice in this world, than we are apt to imagine. No heart can think upon these things worthily : and who is able to conceive his way ? It is a tempest which no man can see : for the most part of his works are hid. Who can declare the icorks of his justice ? for his covenant is afar off, and the trial of all things is in the end : i. e., The dealings of God with the children of men are not yet completed, and cannot be judged of by that pai't which is before us. So that a man cannot say. This is worse than that : for in time they shall be well approved. Thy faithfulness, Lord, reacheth unto the clouds: thy righteous- ness standeth like the strong mountains : thy judgments are like the great deep. He hath made everythiiig beautiful in his time : also he hath set the world in their heart ; so that no man can Jind out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end. And thus St. Paul concludes a long argument upon the various dispensations of Providence : the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How un- searchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out I For who hath known the mind of the Lord ? Thus the scheme of Providence, the ways and works of God, ai^e too vast, of too large extent for our capacities. There is, as I may speak, such an expense of power, and wisdom, and goodness, in the formation and government of the world, as is too much for us to take in or com- prehend. Power, and wisdom, and goodness, are manifest to us in all those works of God, which come within oui 631 UPON THE IGNORANCE OP MAN. [SER. XV view : but there are likewise infinite stores of each poiu'ed forth throughout the immensity of the creation ; no part oi which can be thoroughly understood, without taking in its reference and respect to the whole : and this is what we have not faculties for. And as the works of God, and his scheme of govern ment, are above our capacities thoroughly to comprehend : so there possibly may be reasons which originally made it fit that many things should be concealed from us, which we have perhaps natural capacities of understanding; many things concerning the designs, methods, and ends of divine Providence in the government of the world. There is no manner of absm-dity in supposing a veil on purpose drawn over some scenes of infinite power, wisdom, and goodness, the sight of which might some way or other strike us too strongly ; or that better ends are designed and served by their being concealed, than could be by their being ex- posed to our knowledge. The Almighty may cast clouds and darkness round about him, for reasons and purposes of which we have not the least glimpse or conception. However, it is sm-ely reasonable, and what might have been expected, that creatures in some stage of their being, suppose in the infancy of it, should be placed in a state of discipline and improvement, where their patience and submission is to be tried by afilictions, where temptations are to be resisted, and difficulties gone through in the discharge of their duty. Now if tlie greatest pleasures and pains of the present life may be overcome and sus- pended, as they manifestly may, by hope and fear, and other passions and affections; then the evidence of re- ligion, and the sense of the consequences of virtue and vice, might have been such, as entirely in all cases to pre- vail over those afflictions, difficulties, and temptations ; prevail over them so, as to render them absolutely none at all. But the very notion itself now mentioned, of a state of discipline and improvement, necessarily excludes such sensible evidence and conviction of religion, and of tlie consequences of virtue and vice. Keligion consists in submission and resignation to the divine will. Our con- dition in this world is a school of exercise for this temper : and our ignorance, the shallowness of our reason, the temptations, difficulties, afflictions, which we are exposed SER. XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 53& to, all equally contribute to make it so. The general obsen^ation may be carried on; and whoever will attend to the thing will plainly see, that less sensible evidence, with less difficulty in practice, is the same, as more sensible evidence, with greater difficulty in practice. There- fore difficulties in speculation as much come into the notion of a state of discipline, as difficulties in practice : and so the same reason or account is to be given of both. Thus, though it is indeed absurd to talk of the greater merit of assent, upon little or no evidence, than upon demonstracion ; yet the strict discharge of our duty, with ^ess sensible evidence, does imply in it a better character, than the same diligence in the discharge of it upon more sensible evidence. This fully accounts for and explains that assertion of our Saviom*, Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed ^ ; have become Christians and obeyed the gospel upon less sensible evidence than that which Thomas, to whom he is speaking, insisted upon. But, after all, the same account is to be given why we were placed in these circumstances of ignorance, as why nature has not furnished us with wings ; namely, that we were designed to be inhabitants of this earth. I am afraid we think too highly of ourselves; of our rank in the creation, and of what is due to us. What sphere of action, what business is assigned to man, that he has not capacities and knowledge fully equal to? It is manifest he has reason, and knowledge, and faculties superior to the business of the present world : faculties which appear superfluous, if we do not take in the respect which they have to somewhat furtlier, and beyond it. If to acquire knowledge were our proper end, we should indeed be but poorly provided : but if somewhat else be our business and duty, we may, notwitlistanding our ignorance, be well enough furnished for it , and the obse/vation of our ignorance may be of assistance to us in the discharge of it. II. Let us then consider, what are the consequences of this knowledge 'Wid observation of our own ignorance, and the reflection it leads us to. First. We may learn from it, with what temper of mind a man ought to inquire into the subject of religion; namely, with expectation of finding difficulties, and with a dispositicu ^ John XX. 29. J)36 UPON TTTR TGNOKANCE OF MlAJs'. [SEB XV. CO take up aiid rest satisfied with any evidence whatever, which is real. He should beforehand expect things mysterious, and such as he will not be able thoroughly to comprehend, or go to the bottom of ^ To expect a distinct comprehensive view of the whole subject, clear of difficulties and objections, is to forget our nature and coniition; neither of which admit of such knowledge, with respect to any science what ever. And to inquire with this expectation, is not to inquire as a man, but as one of another order of creatm^es. Due sense of the general ignorance of man would also beget in us a disposition to take up and rest satisfied with any evidence whatever, which is real. I mention this as the contrary to a disposition, of which there are not wanting instances, to find fault with and reject evidence, because it is not such as was desired. If a man were to walk by twilight, must he not follow his eyes as much as if it were broad day and clear sunshine ? Or if he were obliged to take a journey by night, would he not give heed to any light shining in the darkness, till the day should break and the day- star arise ? It would not be altogetlier unnatm^al for him to reflect how much better it were to have daylight; he might perhaps have great curiosity to see the countiy round about him ; he might lament that the darkness con- cealed many extended prospects from his eyes, and wish for tlie sun to draw away the veil : but how ridiculous would it be to reject with scona and disdain the guidance and direc- tion which that lesser light might afford him, because it was not the sun itself! If the make and constitution of man, the circumstances he is placed in, or the reason of things affords the least hint or intimation, that virtue is the law he is bom mider ; scepticism itself should lead him to the most strict and inviolable practice of it ; that he may not make the dreadful experiment, of leaving the course of life marked out for him by nature, whatever that nature be, and entering patlis of his own, of which he can know neither the dangers, nor the end. For tliough no danger be seen, yet darkness, ignorance, and blindness ai'e no manner of security. Secondly. Our ignorance is the proper answer to many ' Thi3 is what the deepest philosophers of ancient times came to assert. Thus, Aristotle quotes with approbation the phrase t/«of ^raXXi ruyx^it^ •v» uxor a. — Ed. BEK. XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 537 tilings, which are called objections against religion ; par ticulaiiy, to those which arise from the appearances of evil and irregularity in the constitution of nature and the govern- ment of the world. In all other cases it is thought neces- sary to be thoroughly acquainted with the whole of a scheme, even one of so narrow a compass as those which are formed by men, in order to judge of the goodness or badness of it- and tlie most slight and superficial view of any human con trivance comes abundantly nearer to a thorough knowledge of it, than that part, which we know of the government ol the world, does to the general scheme and system of it; to the whole set of laws by which it is governed. From our ignorance of the constitution of things, and the scheme of Providence in the government of the world; from the reference the several parts have to each other, and to the whole ; and from our not being able to see the end and the whole; it follows, that however perfect things are, they must even necessarily appear to us otherwise less perfect than they are K ' Suppose some very complicated piece of wori;, seme system or constitw- tion, formed for some general end, to which each of the joar^s had a reference. The perfection or justness of this work or constitution would consist in the reference and respect, which the several parts have to the general design. This reference of parts to the general design may be infinitely various, both in degree and kind. Thus one part may only contribute and be subservient to another ; this to a third ; and so on through a long series, the last part of which alone may contribute immediately and directly to the general design. Or a part may have this distant reference to the general design, and may also contribute immediately to it. For instance : if the general design or end, for which the complicated frame of nature was brought into being, is happiness : whatever affords present satisfaction, and likewise tends to carry on the course of things, hath this double respect to the general design. Now suppose a spectator of that work or constitution was in a great measure ignorant of such various reference to the general end, what- ever that end be ; and that, upon a very slight and partial view which he had of the work, several things appeared to his eye disproportionate and wrong; others, just and beautiful; what would he gather from these ap- pearances ? He would immediately conclude there was a probability, if he could see the whole reference of the parts appearing wrong to the general design, that this would destroy the appearance of wrongness and dispropor- tion : but there is no probability, that the reference would destroy the par- ticular right appearances, though that reference might show the things already appearing just, to be so likewise in a higher degree or another manner. There is a probability, that the right appearances were intended there is no probability, that the wrong appearances were We cannot suspect irregularity and disorder to be designed. The pillars of a building appear beautiful i but their being likewise its support does not destroy that S88 trPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. fsER. T/ Thirdly Since the constitution of nature, and the methods and designs of Providence in the government of the world, ' are above our comprehension, we should acquiesce in, and rest satisfied with, our ignorance, turn our tlioughts from that which is above and beyond us, and apply om-selves to that which is level to our capacities, and which is oiu- real business and concern. Knowledge is not our proper hap- piness. Whoever will in the least attend to the thing will see, that it is the gaining, not the having of it, which is the entertainment of the mind ^ Indeed, if the proper happi- ness of man consisted in knowledge considered as a posses- sion or treasure, men who are possessed of the largest share would have a very ill time of it ; as they would be infinitely more sensible than others of their poverty in this respect. Thus he who increases knowledge would eminently increase sorrow. Men of deep research and curious inquiiy should just be put in mind, not to mistake what they are doing, "if their discoveries serve the cause of virtue and religion, in the way of proof, motive to practice, or assistance in it ; or if they tend to render life less unhappy, and promote its satisfactions ; then they are most usefully employed : but bringing things to light, alone and of itself, is of no manner of use, any otherwise than as entertainment or diversion. Neither is this at all amiss, if it does not take up the time which should be employed in better work. But it is evident that there is another mark set up for us to aim at ; another end appointed us to direct our lives to : another end, which the most knowing may fail of, and the most ignorant aiTive at. The secret things belong unto the Lord our God ; hut those things which are revealed belong unto us, and to our children/or ever, that we may do aU the words of this law. Which reflec- tion of Moses, put in general tenns, is, that the only know- beauty : there still remains a reason to believe that the architect intended the beautiful appearance, after we have found out the reference, support. It would be reasonable for a man of himself to thiiik thus, upon the first piece of architecture he ever saw. ' Butler does not speak thus with any intention of depreciating the value of physical science. Far from it ; he would regard physical inquiry as one of the best handmaids to a higher science, the knowledge of God and of our- •elves in relation to God. In a material age like the present, it were well if such weighty sentences as these of Butler were kept more entirely before men's minds. They would not then so much devote themselves to the things of time and sense, and allow their thoughts to be diverted from their truest and highest interest — the gaining of virtnous habits here, in order to tit them for happiness hereafter. — Ed. BKB. XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 589 ledge, which is of any avail to us, is that which teaches us our duty, or assists us in the discharge of it. The economy of the imiverse, the course of nacure, almighty power exerted in the creation and government of tlie world, is out of our reach. What would be the consequence, if we could really get an insight into these tilings, is very uncertain ; whether it would assist us in, or divert us from, what we have to do in this present state. If tlien there be a sphere of know- ledge, of contemplation and employment, level to our capa- cities, and of the utmost importance to us ; we ought surely to apply ourselves with all diligence to this our proper busi- ness, and esteem everything else nothing, nothing as to us, in comparison of it. Thus Job, discoursing of natm-al know ledge, how much it is above us, and of wisdom in general, says, God understandeth the way thereof, and he knoweth the place thereof. And unto man he said. Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to depart from evil is understanding. Otlier orders of creatures may perhaps be let into the secret counsels of heaven ; and have the designs and methods of Providence, in the creation and government of the world, communicated to them : but this does not belong to our rank or condition. The fear of the Lord, and to depart from evil, is the only wisdom which man should aspire after, as his work and business. The same is said, and with the same connection and context, in the conclusion of tlie book of Ecclesiastes. Our ignorance, and tlie little we can know of other things, affords a reason why we should not pei-plex ourselves about them ; but no way invalidates that which is the conclusion of the whole matter. Fear God, and keep his com- mandments ; for this is the whole concern of man. So that Socrates was not the first who endeavoured to draw men off from labouring after, and laying stress upon other know ledge, in comparison of that which related to morals. Ouf province is virtue and religion, life and manners ; the science of improving the temper, and making the heart better. This is the field assigned us to cultivate : how much it has lain neglected is indeed astonisning. Virtue is demonstrably the happiness of man : it consists in. good actions, proceed- ing from a good principle, temper, or heart. Overt-acts are entirely in our power. What remains is, that we learn tc keep our heart ; to govern and regulate our passions, mind, affections : that so we may be free from the impotencies oi 6'AO UPOK THE IGKOEAXCE OF MAN. [SER XV fear, envy, malice, covetousness, ambition ; that we may be clear of these, considered as vices seated in the heai^t, con- sidered as constituting a general wTong temper ; from ^Yhicil general wrong frame of mind, all the mistaken pursuits, and far the greatest part of the unhappiness of life, proceed He, who should find out one rule to assist us in this work, would deserve infinitely better of mankind, than all the improvers of other knowledge put together. Lastly. Let us adore that infinite wisdom and power and goodness, which is above our comprehension. To icliom hath the root of wisdom been revealed ? Or icho hath hionii her wise counsels ? There is one wise and greatly to he feared ; the Lord sitting upon his throne. He created her, and saic her, and numbered her, arid poured her out iqjon all his works. If it be thought a considerable thing to be acquainted with a few, a very few, of the effects of infinite power and wisdom ; the situation, bigness, and revolution of some of the heavenly bodies ; what sentiments should our minds be filled with concerning Him, who appointed to each its place and mea- sure and sphere of motion, all which are kept with the most uniform constancy ! Who stretched out the heavens, and telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names. Who laid the foundations of the earth, who coniprehendeth the dust of it in a measure, and weigheth the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance. And, when we have recounted all the appearances which come within om- view, we must add, Lo, these are part of his icays : hut how little a portion is heard of him! Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto jjerfection ? It is as high as heaven ; what canst thou do ? deeper than hell ; what canst thou know / The conclusion is, that in all lowliness of mind we set lightly by ourselves : that we form our temper to an implicit submission to tlie divine Majesty; beget witliin ourselves an absolute resignation to all the methods of his providence, in his dealings witli the children of men : that, in the deep- est humility of our souls, we prostrate ourselves before him, and join in that celestial song ; Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty ! just arid true are thy icays, thou King of saints ! Who shall not fear thee, Lord, and glorify thy name ? THTC EKD. INDEX TO THE ANALOGY. Abstract notions, not to be carelessly applied to practical subjects, 167. Accidental events, 235. Actions, what is implied in, 273. Afflictions productive of the habit of pious resignation, 159. Analogical reasoning, 74 ; how far intended to be here applied to reli- gion, 76. Analogy, the ground of probability in different degrees, 72 ; how it as- sists us in judging of revelation, 211; how it obviates objections against the credibility of future pu- nishments, 104 • suggests arguments sufficient to confute the Fatalist's plea for irreligion, 163, 164; affords no argument against the general scheme of Christianity, 232 ; affords no pe- culiar presumption against the reality of miracles, 214, 215; between the mysteriousness of the scheme of Christianity, and of God's natural government, 228 ; the usefulness of arguing from the analogy of nature to religion, 244, 245; between what we see in the natural govern- ment of God, and what may be con- tained in his moral, 183; affords no argument against the certainty of a future life, 97 ; contirms our appre- hensions of future rewards and pu- nishments, 170; illustrates the scrip- tural doctrine of the Fall, 248 ; the Christian doctrine of a Mediator and Redeemer, 240 ; obviates objections against Christianity which are drawn from its supposed want of univer- sality, 221 ; from its supposed want of wisdom and justice, 229 ; obviates objections against the miraculous- ness of spiritual gifts in the first Christians, 225. Benevolence, divine, towards as, how limited, 111. Body, our existence may be considered without it, 94. Brutes, whether capable of immor- tality, 92. Chance, what is meant by it, 23.'*. Changes, what, things may undergo without destruction, 82. Christ, his office as prophet, priest, and king, 251, 252; the apparent tendency of his sufferings justifies that method of our redemption, 255 ; upon what evidence his divine mis- sion was acknowledged by the Gen- tiles, 304. Christians, primitive, their zeal an argument of the reality of Christ's miracles, 280. Church, visible, the necessity of one to promote religion and virtue, 198. Conscience, affords proof of God's moral government, 11 3; makes us proper subjects of moral govern- ment, 334. Consciousness, does not make personal identity, but ascertains it, 329, Contemplation, unable to produce the habit of virtue, 142, Creature, upright, and finitely perfect; the notion of such an one, 153. Daniel, the book of, 291. Death, the proper notion of it, 83, 84 ; not likely to destroy or suspend our powers of perception, 94 ; may be supposed to open our way into a better state, 95. Desert, idea of, connected with virtue, 336. Different degrees of evidence, in re- Ugious matters, consistent with tha 542 INDEX. justice of God's moral government, 261. Pitficulties in religion; unreasonable to expect to have them all cleared, 314 ; as to the evidence of religion analogous to those attending the practice of it, 269. Discipline, of great efficacy to our im- provement in virtue, 149 ; how this world is peculiarly fitted to be a state of discipline, 154. Doubting (see Evidence); some evi- dence is implied wherever we doubt, 264, 266. Duties, moral, arise from the relations in which others stand to us, 206 ; Christian, the reasons of them evi- dent, 257. Enthusiasm of the first Christians, 282 ; religion not peculiarly liable to enthusiasm, 295. Evidence, probable and demonstrative, 72 ; probable, even a low degree, is a reasonable ground of action, 74 ; the nature of that which directs us, with regard to our temporal in- terests, 259 ; of testimony, where to be admitted as proof, 287 ; of re- ligion of the same kind as that which guides us in temporal mat- ters, 315; external, of natural reli- gion, 196 ; of Christianity, 295 ; of religion, though doubtful, enforces the obligation to behave religiously, i64; why evidence of religion has been left doubtful, 267, 268, 269. Evil, permitted, and why, 182. Existence, necessary, how attributed to God^ 162, note. Fall of man, traced in nature, 136; aflFords no just matter of complaint, lb.; the scriptural account of it analogous to what we see, 248. Fatalist argument against future re- wards and punishments retorted,l 69. Fear and Hope proper motives to religious obedience, 157. Final Cause does not always imply that the end designed is answered, 167. Future Life, the questions concerning it, 85, note ; its importance, 98 ; credibility of, 96, 97; a social state., 148 ; this life a state of discipline for it, 133, 140, &c.; the certainty of it inferred from God's moral go- vernment, 104 ; proof of it as drawn from analogy, 95, &c. Future Judgment implies temptations, 132. Future Punishments, may be presumed from God's rewarding or punishing us for our behaviour at present, 180 ; made credible by what we experience, 102, 103 ; objections against their credibility obviated, 104. General Laws, the course of nature carried on by them, 235. Gifts, miraculous, 225; the manifest wisdom of, 183. God, his necessary existence, 162, note; his government, how exer- cised over us at present, 102; his natural government carried on by general laws, 178, 183; the ana- logy between his natural and moral government, ib.; his moral govern- ment not perfectly executed in this present state, 113; his visible go- vernment over the world exercised by the mediation of others, 240; his goodness, how limited, 111 ; hit moral government accounts for our state of probation, 154 ; objections against his providence, 181; the dispensations of, how to be judged of, 220 ; resignation to God's will an essential part of virtue, 158; the duties to God the Father, whence their obligation arises, 202; those to God the Son, and Holy Ghost, 203. Good and evil, natural, unequally dis- tributed, 260 ; moral, implies good desert, 336. Government, natural and moral, 116. Guilt, the idea associated with that of ill-dewrt, 837. TNDEX. 543 Habiti, how formed, 141 ; how they differ from passive impressions, 142; the great consequence of gaining them in their proper season, 147; of virtue necessary to all, 153. Happiness, mainly depends upon our own behaviour, 119 ; why not given to all, 114. Heathen world, the state of religion in it, 194. History of the world, how regarded in Scripture, 294. Identity, personal, not constituted by consciousness, 329. Ignorance in matters of Revealed Re- ligion, 253 ; of our condition, na- tural and moral, and of the reasons why we are placed, therein, 263 ; concerning the scheme of the natural world should teach us not to wonder at the incomprehensibleness of the moral, 178; objections drawn from, very absurd, 184, 186 ; a just an- swer to objections against the scheme of God's providence, 183. Imagination, apt to mislead us, 84. Improvement of the human faculties, gradual, 148. Inspiration,how vouchsafed to mankind, not known by human reason, 221. Interest, in what sense always coinci- dent with virtue, 158. Irregularities in nature, 237. Irreligion, not justifiable by want of evidence in religion, 265. Jews, a summary of God's dealing with them, and their history, 296, &c. ; their dispersion, how it con- firms Revelation, 304. Kingdom, idea of a perfectly virtuous and happy, 126. Liberty, or Free Will, 169 ; our con- dition implies that we are free, 174. Living Powers, what, 83, note; not destroyed by death, 94 ; their not being exercised does not imply their uou-existence, 90. Life, present, bas reference to a larger plan of things, 180. Locke's notion of personal identity ex* amined, 330. Mahometanism, not received upon the proof of miracles, 279. Man, his nature differs from that (4 brutes, 334. Manifestation of character, one use d temptations, 161. Martyrs, primitive; what argument their sufferings afford of the reality of Christ's miracles, 282. Matter, our being affected thereby does not prove it to make part of oui self, 88. Means, use of, for the salvation of mankind conformable to the course of nature, 235. Mediator, the notion agreeable to the light of nature, 240 ; the Christian doctrine of a Mediator, in what respect mostly objected to, 254, Miracle, a relative term, 214 ; whether the analogy of nature affords any presumption against their reality, 210-217 ; the primary design of them, 198 ; how they confirm natural religion, ih. ; peculiar to the Mosaic and Christian religion, 279; related in Scripture, 281 ; recorded in Scripture, confirmed from the credibility of common history, 299; referred to in St. Paul's Epistles, 278 ; proof of their reality afforded by the conversion of the first Chris- tians, 281. Moral actions, how affected by a com- mand, 230. Moral faculty, see Conscience. Moral obligations, whence their force arises, 202. Moral precepts, preferred to Positive, 205, 206. Morality of actions, 273. Mysteries, as great in nature as izi Christianity, 238. Mysteriousness of the Christian schema no objection against it, 178« 544 INDEX. Nature, light of, insufficient, 194 ; course of, what, 101; carried on by general laws, 183. Necessary existence, how attributed to God, 162, note. Necessity of the Fatalists, does not ex- clude deliberation and choice, 175, 176 ; existence of things by necessity implies an agent, 164, 165 ; does not exclude the justice of punishmant for crimes, 167; nor the proof of Grod's moral character, 172 ; in what re- spect the opinion of necessity may be said to be destructive of all re- ligion, 176; an absurd principle of conduct in common life, 165. Objections, though not cleared up, do not destroy the proof of religion, 184; drawn from our ignorance, absurd, 186 ; against the argument from analogy, from its narrow influence, 315, 316; against the scheme of Providence best an- swered from our ignorance, 224 ; drawn from the moral world, how solved, 181 ; against the credibility of future punishments obviated, 99; against the world's being designed for a state of moral improvement in virtue, 156; the matter of the Christian Revelation must appear liable to, 220 ; against Christianity, drawn from the manner or degree in which its light is vouchsafed, 218 ; against Christianity, from its supposed want of universality, 229. 259 ; from its mysteriousness, 228 ; against the wisdom of it, 230 ; against Christianity itself, as dis- tinguished from those against its evidence, 219; against the scrip- tural doctrine of a Redeemer, 253 ; against Scripture, their frivolous- ness, 218 ; as to its not answering our preconceived expectations, 224. Obligations arising from the possibi- lity that Christianity is true, 185, 264. Origen quoted, 75. Passions, contribute to make cur pre* sent state a state of trial, 151 ; are excited towards particular objects, whether we will or no, 150; how to be regulated, 152. Passive impressions stronger than ac- tive habits, 142. St. Paul's Epistles, what distinct proof of Christianity they afford, 278. Perception may be without external objects, 89, Person, what, 332. Personality, in what sense founded in consciousness, 333. Pleasure attending the gratification of our passions, 115. Positive institutions implied in the notion of a visible Church, 198 ; the great presumption of those who slight them, 209, Positive precepts, how they differ from moral, 207. Practice, by what amount of evidence often determined, 315. Prejudices, several sorts of, 292. Present existence affords presumption of continuance, 82. Presumption, see Evidence. Principles, assumed antecedent to ex- perience, often fallacious, 229. Probability, see Evidence. Probation, how it differs from moral government, 132. Proof, practical, what is meant by it, 181. Prophecies recorded in Scripture, their design, 196 ; concerning the Mes- siah, how understood by the Jews before the coming of Christ, 297 ; the conformit}' between prophecies and events not merely accidental, 305 ; the force of the argument from prophecies is best seen by taking them in a long series, 296. Prophetic History confirmed by the state of the world, and of th«« Christian Church, 305. Prophets, did not fully comprehend all which they wrote,"2S9. Providence, see God. Prudence, requires us to act, thougt INDEX. 545 there is no probability of success, 74. Punishment, its proper notion, 104 ; of the innocent for the guilty, how far it affects the doctrine of Christ's satisfaction, 254 ; instances of vica- rious punishment in the daily course of Providence, 255. Reason, an incompetent judge of God's means, 182; could not have dis- covered the scheme of Christianity, 213 ; an incompetent judge of divine revelation, 262 ; this consideration affords no presumption against reve- lation, 263. Reasoning upon the principles of others, what is meant by it, 317. Redemption, the scriptural doctrine of, 249 ; illustrated by experience, 243 ; further illustrated by analogy, 324 ; why we are incompetent judges of it, 253 ; see Sufferings, Punishment, Mediator. Eeflection, our powers of, do not de- pend upon our bodily powers, 93. Religion, is founded in the moral character of God, 158 ; implies our being in a state of probation, 273 ; why its evidence has been left doubtful, 269; such doubtful- ness does not destroy its obliga- tion, 264 ; the state of religion in the heathen world, 194 ; distin- guished into internal and external, 202 ; natural religion owes its rise and establishment to revelation, 293 ; the great advantages which it receives from Christianity, 196; what credibility it receives from the miracles recorded in Scripture, ib. ; how promoted by the settlement of a visible Church, 199. Remorse, what, 112. Repentance insufficient to expiate guilt, 324; general sense of man- kind upon it, 252. Besignation to God's will, an essential part of virtue, 158. Revelation, necessary to explain the scheme of the universe, 12L ; to supply the defects of natural reli- gion, 194; given at the beginning of the world, in what sense miracu- lous, 213. Revealed Religion [viz.. Christian], 201 ; a short view of its scheme, 233 ; its evidence, part direct — part collateral, 305 ; why left at all doubtful, 326 ; unreasonable to expect to have all difficulties in it cleared, 315; objections against the matter of, 282 ; how far to be judged of by reason, 229 ; the rash- ness of treating it with disregard, 209 ; account of its first establish- ment, 304 ; what strength its evi- dence receives from the conversion and zeal of the first Christians, 282; Jewish and Christian, the degrees of their evidence different at differ- ent times, 259. Rewards and Punishments, in nature, correspond to virtue and vice, 103. Sacrifices, propitiatory, their general prevalence, 252; legal, their de- sign, ih.; the death of Christ a proper sacrifice, ib. Scepticism about the evidence of re- ligion implies a suspicion at least of its being true, 266. Sceptics among us inexcusable, 314. Scripture considered in an historical view, 294 ; the genuineness of Scripture history shown by inter- nal evidence, 276, 278, 279, &c.; and by correspondent facts, and other histories, 281 ; its meaning not always to be explained accord- ing to the common rules of criti- cism, 288 ; difficulties of, no argu- ment of its not coming from God, 75 ; the unreasonableness of ex- pecting to have all difficulties in it cleared, 311; probably contains several truths as yet undiscovered, 227 ; the common objections against it are frivolous, 306 ; the folly of rejecting it because it does not an* 646 DO)SX. swor our preconceived expectations, 222 ; the Jewish history in it con- firmed by known fact, 302 ; its prophetic history confirmed by the state of the world, and of the Christian Church, 305. Self, its sameness does not depend upon the sameness of our body, 86. Self-denial promotes resignation to God's will, 159. Self-love, whether this principle wants to be improved, 150, 152. Senses, their dissolution does not im- ply the dissolution of the agent, 85. Soul, its indivisibility, 86. Temptations, how they serve to im- prove our virtue, 154. Testimony, see Evidence. Trinity, whence our obligation of duty to each Person in the Trinity arises, 202. Trial, state of, what is implied in the notion of it, 132 ; intended for our improvement, and to qualify us for future happiness, 154; may be also intended for the manifestation of our characters, 161. Understanding, our probation with regard to it upon the subject of re- ligion, 263. Unirersafity, objections against Christ- ianity from its supposed want of how answered, 229, 259. Vegetables, no arguing from their decay to that of living creatures, 96. Vice, what it chiefly consists in, 338 ; the manner in which the habit of it is formed, 156; success of, how reconciled with God's moral govern- ment, 121 ; why not always pu- nished, 120. Viciousness, what it is, 336, &c. 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